Tuesday, April 19, 2011

The anniversary

Today is the anniversary of the day that changed my life -- the day that three tiny embryos were thawed and the two that survived were transferred to my uterus. One of those embryos became my son, who is sleeping down the hall as I write this. He is dressed in a baby blue footed pajamas, he is lying on his back -- deep in sleep -- with his little chubby arms up over his head as if he has surrendered to sleep. He is making tiny little sleeping noises as he breathes in and out. He is the most beautiful, wonderful, magical little person I've ever met.
It is almost unfathomable to think that a small group of cells that were frozen for three months grew into this precious baby. It is nothing short of a miracle and I am reminded daily as I marvel at Andrew at just how close we came to never knowing him, to never being parents, to never living this life that we have now.
My memories of that day are now colored by the happy outcome. Still, I remember feeling less optimistic than in the past. I felt -- resigned. I was pretty sure we'd come to the end of the road as far as our infertility was concerned. We'd gambled three times on IVF and came up empty handed each time. The frozen embryo transfer was sort of like a formality. We had to give those three embryos a chance before we could decide to move on to embryo donation or adoption or, gasp, living child free. On the day of the transfer, I remember watching the ultrasound screen. In all my previous IVFs I had willed my body to welcome those tiny embryos, I would think "hello, my babies, I hope you'll stay. I love you very much." But during my FET, I didn't think these thoughts. I just thought about all the times I'd been there before and how I hoped I'd never be there again.
The most poignant memory of that day is when my husband quietly sang to me as we waited in our curtained room. "Here we go again on our own, going down the only road we've ever known." It struck me as insanely funny at the time. But, Greg was right. Heartbreak was all we'd known at that point. Now, we have such joy. There is joy in the middle of the night when Andrew wakes and I can hear him stirring in the next room. There is joy early in the morning before the sun is up and we lie in bed listening to Andrew "talking" his happy morning jabber. There is in taking care of his needs, joy in knowing that he is happy and healthy, joy in seeing him learn new things and unbelievable joy when he fixes his eyes on my face and smiles.
But, of course, I couldn't have dared imagine all this one year ago.
I was hopeful. Hope springs eternal for infertiles, it seems. Why else would we continue to put ourselves through such horrible procedures and treatments? Even so, I did not have the kind of hope I'd had during my third IVF, when it seemed everything was going right.
Little did I know that one year later, I would be a mother and my heart would forever be changed. Believe it or not, I now cry more easily than I did during those heartbreaking years of TTC. The difference is that now, most the time the tears are joyful. I cry when I listen to the radio. I cry when I think of how Andrew came to be. Sometimes, just looking at my baby's sweet face is enough to bring on the waterworks. I am just so swept away by this child. It's like falling in love -- only better. Even some of Andrew's books make me cry. Yesterday, I finally made it through "On The Night You Were Born" without crying. I still can't read "God Gave Us You." I told Greg that would have to be the book he reads to Andrew since Mommy is such a crybaby.
This is a birthday of sorts. It's sort of difficult to classify this day now that I think about it. It's not the anniversary of the day Andrew was conceived -- that was back in January. It's not the anniversary of the day I became pregnant, because as we all know, pregnancy doesn't begin immediately after transfer. Still, it is the anniversary of the day that changed my life -- the day that started this journey. I am so grateful -- eternally grateful -- for the precious gift that is my son.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

A work in progress

So, the new blog is under construction. I'm actually having someone design it for me so that it will be exactly what I want. I'm so excited about it. And, yes, I will definitely let my readers know where to find me once it's ready.
Andrew is doing great. He is now three months old. I can hardly believe it. He smiles a lot, has laughed out loud a few times and has twice managed to roll from his tummy to his back unassisted. He is very motivated to roll this way because he HATES being on his tummy. We go for his three month appointment tomorrow. His reflux is under control most days and though he is a cat napper, he is sleeping well and letting mommy get a lot of rest most nights.
He is such a little wonder to me! I cannot believe how much he has grown and learned over the last three months. And, I cannot believe how much I have learned. I am becoming an expert on all things Andrew and it feels good to be able to interpret his little cries and motions. I feel more and more confident as a mother as each day passes. I love the fact that most of the time when he wakes up and I lean over his crib, he is smiling back at me. His smile is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. I know that for as long as I live, that will remain true.
We are quickly approaching the anniversary of our embryo transfer and I hope that I can write a post that encompasses all the emotions I'm feeling about this special day. Until then, I'll be working on the new blog and playing with my miracle boy.

Friday, April 1, 2011

I've been thinking....

perhaps it's time to end this blog and start a new one. The support I found from my readers out there in blogland was very helpful to me during the last rounds of our infertility struggle and throughout my pregnancy. I am thankful to each one of you who ever offered me a word of encouragement or advice. I pray that you get the miracle you are waiting on. However, I find that I am not always being authentic in my writing on this blog for fear of hurting readers who still struggle. So, perhaps it's time for a new blog. I'm envisioning a blog that is blatantly and unequivocally dedicated to my precious baby and this new life we have as a family of three.