Saturday, June 25, 2011
Reprise
I wrote this post Thursday, but I think it got buried in the readers because it posted with the day I started writing. It kind of breaks my heart to have no comments, so I'm shamelessly drawing your attention to it. Because, well, I could use the virtual hug.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Belated father's day post
I know that fathers day is now receding into the past, but I've been noodling on this post for some time and trying to figure out what I mean to say. Still not quite sure.
Fathers day is hard for me. Always is. My dad died suddenly when I was a kid -- 14 years old. And while I have healed and am a generally functioning adult, his death left his mark. I find that, now that I have a child, I miss my dad more than I have in a long, long time. Maybe it because I sing songs to my son that my father used to sing to me, or maybe it's because I am just sad that he doesn't get to know his grandson (or adult daughter, or son-in-law, for that matter), but I find myself crying more often than usual, and it's hard to blame the hormones when my baby is 5 months old.
After my dad died, my maternal grandparents, who lived nearby, stepped in and became very very active parts of our lives-- we saw them at least every week and they were at every school concert, play, and graduation until I finished grad school. My grandmother died 3 years ago after several years with Alzheimer's, and my grandfather, who was possibly the warmest, most generous man ever, died in March. He died peacefully and quickly, at 95 years old, in his home where he still lived independently.
He died 31 days after my baby was born, and 3 days after B's expected due date. So my grandfather knew he was a boy, knew his name, and knew he was healthy and that i was doing well. He got to see the baby over the magic of video chat, but I had not flown home for our first visit since we were instructed to wait until B had his 2month shots. But my great regret is that I did not make it home with the baby before he died. My grandfather was in great shape, and aside from being old, we had no reason to believe he would not live longer.
So while I had hoped that this year father's day would be a happier time-- after struggling to have a baby for so long, my husband was finally a father, it was hard and I'm still reeling a bit.
Making the day both better and perversely worse was that we had a lovely day visiting my in-laws. My FIL, who isn't the most laid back of guys, spent a ton of time on the floor with the wee one, and it was really wonderful to see him so happy. He has cancer, which is in remission, but still hangs over his head like a sword, and so this baby has really been a fabulous boost to his spirits. I love that this little boy can, just by being there and wiggling and smiling, bring so much joy.
So it was a really nice day for my MIL and FIL and DH, and for me too. But not too far beneath the surface was sadness that my dad doesn't get days like that with his grandson. That i don't get days with my child and my father. And that my grandfather, who gave me so much, never got to hold his only great-grandchild. He would have loved this boy more than the world-- I know this because that's how he loved me, his eldest grandchild.
I'm sad. I miss my dad and I miss my grandfather.
Fathers day is hard for me. Always is. My dad died suddenly when I was a kid -- 14 years old. And while I have healed and am a generally functioning adult, his death left his mark. I find that, now that I have a child, I miss my dad more than I have in a long, long time. Maybe it because I sing songs to my son that my father used to sing to me, or maybe it's because I am just sad that he doesn't get to know his grandson (or adult daughter, or son-in-law, for that matter), but I find myself crying more often than usual, and it's hard to blame the hormones when my baby is 5 months old.
After my dad died, my maternal grandparents, who lived nearby, stepped in and became very very active parts of our lives-- we saw them at least every week and they were at every school concert, play, and graduation until I finished grad school. My grandmother died 3 years ago after several years with Alzheimer's, and my grandfather, who was possibly the warmest, most generous man ever, died in March. He died peacefully and quickly, at 95 years old, in his home where he still lived independently.
He died 31 days after my baby was born, and 3 days after B's expected due date. So my grandfather knew he was a boy, knew his name, and knew he was healthy and that i was doing well. He got to see the baby over the magic of video chat, but I had not flown home for our first visit since we were instructed to wait until B had his 2month shots. But my great regret is that I did not make it home with the baby before he died. My grandfather was in great shape, and aside from being old, we had no reason to believe he would not live longer.
So while I had hoped that this year father's day would be a happier time-- after struggling to have a baby for so long, my husband was finally a father, it was hard and I'm still reeling a bit.
Making the day both better and perversely worse was that we had a lovely day visiting my in-laws. My FIL, who isn't the most laid back of guys, spent a ton of time on the floor with the wee one, and it was really wonderful to see him so happy. He has cancer, which is in remission, but still hangs over his head like a sword, and so this baby has really been a fabulous boost to his spirits. I love that this little boy can, just by being there and wiggling and smiling, bring so much joy.
So it was a really nice day for my MIL and FIL and DH, and for me too. But not too far beneath the surface was sadness that my dad doesn't get days like that with his grandson. That i don't get days with my child and my father. And that my grandfather, who gave me so much, never got to hold his only great-grandchild. He would have loved this boy more than the world-- I know this because that's how he loved me, his eldest grandchild.
I'm sad. I miss my dad and I miss my grandfather.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Yep, it's been a year. (For the record, re: this blog post title, I hate show tunes, and thought Rent was stupid, but I do think that it gives a good sense of the passage of time. So I used it.)
A year ago we put the last of our icicles back in for what we really thought was a total waste of time cycle. I had already done orientation at clinic number two where I was hoping to have more success since I had not managed to get a beta greater than 5 during 2 ivf and an fet. I admit that ivf 1 and fet 1 were both single embryo transfers, but after 4 back in and no pregnancy I was losing hope.
Fast forward to today -- I have a wonderful, happy, cuddly baby boy asleep in his room. I could not possibly feel more luck or grateful, and still surprised. That little ball of cells in the photo tht we gripped super tightly after we went home is a really human being now. The source of the kicks and the pokes and the endless heartburn can smile and laugh and shake his rattle. Despite the fact that I know where babies come from, I still have the hardest time putting it all together in my head. But even if it still seems amazing (and honestly, I hope this sense of gratitude and wonder never fades), I wouldn't want to miss it for the world. I've had a lot of experiences and done a lot of stuff in my 41 years -- professionally and personally -- and this is by far the best and most important thing I have ever done.
A year ago we put the last of our icicles back in for what we really thought was a total waste of time cycle. I had already done orientation at clinic number two where I was hoping to have more success since I had not managed to get a beta greater than 5 during 2 ivf and an fet. I admit that ivf 1 and fet 1 were both single embryo transfers, but after 4 back in and no pregnancy I was losing hope.
Fast forward to today -- I have a wonderful, happy, cuddly baby boy asleep in his room. I could not possibly feel more luck or grateful, and still surprised. That little ball of cells in the photo tht we gripped super tightly after we went home is a really human being now. The source of the kicks and the pokes and the endless heartburn can smile and laugh and shake his rattle. Despite the fact that I know where babies come from, I still have the hardest time putting it all together in my head. But even if it still seems amazing (and honestly, I hope this sense of gratitude and wonder never fades), I wouldn't want to miss it for the world. I've had a lot of experiences and done a lot of stuff in my 41 years -- professionally and personally -- and this is by far the best and most important thing I have ever done.
Monday, June 13, 2011
We're still here!
Wow.
I had no intention of waiting a month between posts, and I have composed many in my head during this time, but somehow I never seem to find the time or the mental space to make it happen (and I haven't been able to pull it off while hooked up to the milking machine, fancy portable iPad notwithstanding). I don't want this to be a summary post, as that doesn't really interest me, so I will hopefully this will be the first in a series of posts that have been in a holding pattern. But seriously, with my recent track record? Who knows.
So what has been going on? I love my little boy more than I ever thought possible. I love the way he smells, the way he holds my little finger when I am feeding him, how he smiles at me when he sees me, and turns his head when he hears my voice. I love his laugh, and most of all I love love love his little voice, since he has been cooing like crazy these last few days. He is so sweet and so earnest and is trying to desperately to communicate. My eyes well up with tears pretty much every time it happens, but I don't want him to think that talking makes me cry (but it does!). I can't really figure out why the cooing just melts my heart, but I think its because it is his individuality coming through for the first time, and I can see how he will one day use that same voice to make words.
Here's a recent photo -- he looks like such a little boy in this picture and he's a bit confused because he just rolled over and is not quite sure what happened....
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