I never know how to start new blog posts. Why is it that those first few sentences of anything you're writing are always the hardest to get out? You usually know what you want to say, what point you want to make, what emotions you hope to convey, but getting them started is always the tricky part, at least for me anyway.
Tonight, what I am trying to get out on my blog is that I need help, input actually. Recently I learned about an essay contest sponsored by Ferring Fertility, a company that manufactures a few of the medications commonly used in IVF treatments. Two of which were used in my IVF protocol, the treatment that ultimately made my dream of motherhood a reality. Which qualifies me to enter an essay about my experiences for a chance to win $10,000 in educational funds for Snow Pea's future education. I am so excited about the opportunity! Especially since any college fund we could have had for her was spent on the treatments to get her here before she was even conceived.But first I have to actually write the essay. Which is where the help and input I need from you comes in.
I had a hard enough time starting this blog post. Now trying to begin an essay on the topic "If I Knew Then What I Know Now" I feel much the way I do starting a new blog entry. I know I have a plenty to offer on the topic, I just don't know where to start. I have been browsing through my old blog posts tonight, knowing that the key most likely lies in the moments as I lived them, but it is also hard to separate myself and I find myself reliving those moments, crying as I re-read and re-experience each emotion. So I wanted to ask those of you who have been reading or have just read a post here and there even, are there any that have stuck out? Anything that I have written throughout this journey that struck a chord with you and gave you hope? Or anything that has just fallen flat and left you confused? Please don't hesitate to be honest and give any constructive criticism you may have. I promise to respect and value any true (non-troll) opinion.
Here is the website for the contest if you'd like to learn more about it or even enter yourself, http://www.ferringfertility.com/mylittlemiracle/. And if you do enter let me know, I would love to cheer you on! There are 3 different prizes so there's no reason we can't both win, and even if I am not one of the 3 winners, I am already thrilled for every family that wins this prize because I know that for everyone entering and especially for me, the scholarship money doesn't hold a candle to the true treasure that is our incredibly amazing miracle babies. But that doesn't mean winning wouldn't be great. So with a deadline less than a month away, I really need to get started! Thanks in advance for any help or support you can give!
Postpartum, AF is even more horrendous than before, like it's getting back at me for escaping its evil clutches the past 18 months. Ugh.
This past weekend we learned that Snow Pea is allergic to eggs. Poor girl loves them, gobbled them up like candy, but before she had finished her meal hives began appearing around her mouth, chin and jawline. So we did what any reasonable parent would do and took them away then immediately called the on-call nurse at our pediatrician's office. She gave us instructions on what to watch for and administering ben.adryl if necessary and reassured that most kids outgrow this type of allergy but that we should stay away from eggs right now. We were nervous, checking on our breathing throughout her entire morning nap, but honestly her reaction was very mild. The bumps were gone no more than 15 minutes after they appeared and she never fussed or whined to indicate that they were bothering her in any way.
I have still had the incident on my mind though and wanted to follow up with her actual pediatrician to discuss what to expect, what to stay away from and whether we should think about allergy testing. The doctor was nice, helpful and informative and she made me feel guilty as hell. She said that her office doesn't recommend eggs at all for babies under a year, and that introducing them before a year can actually cause the allergy. She also said that this allergy can be very serious and may lead other even more dangerous allergies like peanuts and that she could be allergic for life due to early exposure. So what I heard was "your daughter is allergic to eggs and it might be very dangerous and she'll have to live with it forever and it's ALL YOUR FAULT."
I got off the phone and just felt so terrible. Like I had screwed up, made a huge mistake and jeopardized her health for life. This perfect little girl trusts me every second of every day to take care of her. To change her if she's wet, to keep her from getting hurt, to feed her when she's hungry. And in doing those things for her there are so many decisions to be made: Do I use cloth diapers or disposables? Do I rush in the second she cries or let her try to soothe herself? Should I give her a dose of ty.lenol when she's teething or stay clear of medications? What foods should I give her for lunch today? All of these little moments seem to have a huge weight behind them. And when things go well, when I choose to let her self soothe and she's asleep again in less than 5 minutes, I feel good about the choices I'm making. But when they go wrong or worse, when someone puts their opinion into the mix, that's when the mommy guilt sets in.
I can't help it sometimes. I know I'm doing my best. I know that I love my daughter more than anything and that I am being proactive about raising her but the damn guilt is always just around the corner waiting to get me. When the egg incident first happened, I felt a twinge of guilt but I reminded myself that she was fine and that now we know and prevent anything worse from occurring. But talking to the doctor poked a hole into my mommy confidence. I can still hear her saying "well we don't recommend that at all, but what's done is done". That phrase took from feeling like an involved parent looking out for my child's best interest, to a heap of guilty feelings. I felt like I had made the worst kind of mistake. I felt that when it came to caring for my child's health, I had failed.
I've since talked myself off the edge of the guilt ledge, thanks to a lot of love and support from my husband and my lovely twitter family, but I can't say I won't blame myself if it turns out she does have a lifelong food allergy. And I have to say I kind of resent the world for creating that thought in my head. Of course I know that as her parent, I have more influence on her life than just about anyone else, but I am not the only influence. There are so many variables in the universe that I have zero control over and her immune system is one of them. But somehow everything we do or don't do as parents is blamed for everything that happens to a child. If something is wrong with your baby, the first thing people jump to is what you did to cause it. Your child has reflux? You must be feeding them the wrong thing or not burping them well. Your child has colic? You must be overstimulating or understimulating them to make them cry so much. Your baby still doesn't sleep through the night? You must be spoiling them or not spoiling them enough. It's enough to drive anyone crazy!
So my kid is allergic to eggs. Did I really cause it? Do I really have that much power and influence over her body? Maybe. But do I have to feel guilty about it? Do I have to writhe in sadness, thinking I've destroyed my child's life? No. I need to let myself off the hook a little. I need to remember that no matter how hard I try, I will make mistakes. I don't have to be a perfect parent because there is no such thing. And more than that, there is no definition of a perfect parent. For every "proven" opinion out there there is one in direct opposition with the same amount of research behind it. I've heard from countless people in the past few days telling me that their pediatricians recommended starting eggs and even peanuts before a year instead of after. So who's right? I'll probably never know. But what I do know is this: I am a good mom, this probably won't be my last case of mommy guilt and it might be time to find a new pediatrician.
Happy 2012! I can't believe it's a new year already, and not only that but almost 2 weeks into the year! Just a couple of days ago, Snow Pea reached 9 months. And what a month full of excitement this past one was! She got her first two teeth and while I am sad to say goodbye to her gummy, toothless smile, I love the joy on her face as she munches on new finger foods. She learned to play "So Big!" and will frequently start raising her arms and giggling, patiently waiting for me to fill in the words. She also started blowing kisses and loves the sound of her own voice saying "muah, muah, muah". As for me, I am cherishing every single second and marveling that she has already been out almost as long as she was in. The 9 months of pregnancy feel more and more like a dream that I only believe happened sometimes because I have the pictures and the baby that were created in those 41 weeks. These past 9 months raising Snow Pea on the other hand, feel simultaneously as if they've flown by and as if they have no beginning, like life without her never really existed in the first place.
On the night before she officially turned 9 months, I was thinking about these things, about how much she has grown and changed in this time and about how much I grew and changed during the 9 months before she was born. And then I thought about the 3 years before that, the three years full of hurt and tears, charts and pee sticks, wands and needles, pain and hope. And in that moment a huge realization crashed over me: Snow Pea was about to be 9 months old and soon she will have been alive longer than she was growing in my tummy. But even bigger than that, one day, not today but one day God willing, she will be alive longer than the time we spent getting her here. One day I will be a mother for more time than I spent trying to be one. Even typing it now blows me away.
For some, this may not seem terribly exciting or emotional or noteworthy, but for me it's all of those things. It's the realization that while I will always be infertile and will never have a child without either the assistance of a medical team or the process of an adoption, I have nonetheless survived infertility. It's the realization that although the struggle of infertility nearly consumed three years of my life and has left wounds that will never fully heal, scars that will never disappear, my life is now consumed instead by my amazing daughter and one day soon that time will far surpass the time that came before it. Despite the pain that felt like it might strangle me at times, despite the moments that shook my hope & faith, despite the things I lost and will never get back, I survived. And although I am not exactly the same person I was before going in, I am happy with who I have become. Those three years are some of the biggest in my life and they will forever have an effect on me, but now I have also experienced 9 months of motherhood that have already changed me and effected even more.
December 15 and my 1st post all month? Not to mention 6 days after the actual event I am blogging about. Wow, I think this is my worst case of blog procrastination yet! In my defense though I also haven't been brushing my hair or wearing make-up quite as often these days. You see I am now the mother of an 8 month old. And what I didn't fully realize, is that a baby this age is almost nothing like the one that came before it.
When you're embarking on parenthood you brace yourself for all the typical new baby stuff everyone is obsessed with warning you about: sleepless nights, spit up, colic, and I felt ready. I knew what to expect and I lucked out with a baby that slept relatively well, didn't scream or cry too often and virtually never regurgitated her meals. And as she grew she just got more fun, more sweet. My absolute favorite thing in the world has been her covering my cheek in slobbery kisses right before she goes to bed and sleeps for an uninterrupted 12 hours. Or at least it used to be. Because that is not my baby anymore. Now she has attitude, and plenty of it!
I have always been a teeny bit anxious about what parenting will be like as my kids grow up. There are so many obstacles to face and guide them through. Raising kids isn't easy and there are bound to be moments when my kids don't like me, when they don't want to give me a kiss goodbye or eat the dinner I spent all night making them. I knew it would come one day but I had years until I really had to worry about that, right? WRONG. The only thing my once sweet, happy baby seems to have done for the past week is whine, scream and yell.
Now that she is 8 months old and more aware of the world around and all that it has to offer, she is constantly bored. The things that used to make her laugh for an hour, are now old news after 2 minutes. I used to get a ok amount of items crossed off my to-do list each day, but now I feel like a circus performer frantically attempting to entertain my daughter before she has yet another nuclear meltdown. And boredom isn't the only thing that invokes her wrath. If she's hungry, she will yell and whine until food is produced and if it's not food she likes, she doesn't stop at spitting it out, she screams and blows 'raspberries', spraying the broccoli and carrots I spent an afternoon steaming and pureeing for her all over my face. She does have exceptionally good fine motor skills which she has further honed by eating cheerios, picking them up one at a time with her fingers. But you can't give her one unless you're prepared to give her an entire box, because if they're gone, it's DEFCON 1 and screams are imminent.
And it's not just daytime that's reserved for hysterical screaming. Oh no, now 2am has become a popular time for all-out, scream at the top you lungs cry-fests. The night before last our entire household probably slept 3 hours in between all the tears. I got better night's sleep when she was just a few weeks old and waking to nurse all night. At least then she could eat and drift back off for another solid 3 hours until it was time to eat again. She hasn't been nursing in the middle of the night for a while now, but it's not surprising that she's suddenly waking up hungry again, considering she sprays more of her dinner on to my shirt than ever makes it into her mouth the past few days.
Before you ask, yes we have thought about teething. We're keeping an eye on her gums and I think that it does have some part to play since she has yet to sprout any teeth, but it doesn't seem to be the only reason for her personality changes. Some of it, I think, is just her growing up. And that is so much more difficult for me than being able to blame it on teeth. I'm just not ready for this! She gets annoyed at me now. My sweet, easygoing baby gets mad and whines if she doesn't get her way. And most heartbreaking of all, she stopped giving me kisses. She used to get so excited to plant her mouth on my cheek, she'd smile and giggle and reach for my face over and over again. Now she not only refuses to give me even a single non-smiley kiss, she shrieks and turns her head if my face gets too near hers. It's killing me! I thought this wasn't supposed to happen until they were older and didn't want to look un-cool in front of their friends. It takes all of my strength not to take it personally and cry when I ask for a kiss and she growls and pushes me away. I know it's part of her development and that these things will ebb and flow, but still, it stings.
To be fair, attitude, opinions and independence aren't the only milestones she's achieving at 8 months. She has also mastered the art of clapping! When she started waving just before turning 7 months, I predicted that clapping would soon follow and sure enough it did! Her first real clap was during the 20 minute snippet of The Muppet Movie she saw with us. She was absolutely enthralled by it dancing and bouncing in my lap and then all of the sudden clapping out loud to express her joy. Now she does it to show her appreciation for good book, a nice rendition of "Itsy Bitsy Spider" or the hilarity that is Mommy putting anything on her head that shouldn't be there (Silly Mommy! Blocks don't go on your head but I applaud the effort you're making to keep me entertained.) It isn't kisses but it is incredibly cute and I have to admit love the sound of her tiny hands smacking together. It is one of my greatest joys lately.
And speaking of greatest joys, even at her whiniest, Eliana is still mine. Earlier this week, Chad and I were out to dinner with his colleagues. They were nice enough to move the reservation early in the evening so that we could bring the baby before her bedtime. Eating out with an 8 month old is no easy feat. As we took her turns trying to feed her, change her diaper in tiny bathroom stalls and digging through her diaper bag for any object that might somehow appease her for more than a second, I thought to myself how much easier this dinner would be if it were just me and Chad and how happier I am eating cold food so that I can take care of my amazing daughter than I ever could have dreamed. Yes, I get annoyed at her screams but my very next thought is always how incredibly grateful I am to be hearing them. After years of hearing people complain about their cranky babies and thinking to myself how incredibly thrilled I'd be to have a cranky baby of my own, I'm lucky enough to finally be proving myself right. I seriously love her more than I could ever express. And it doesn't make sense considering everything I just said but I love her crankiness too. I love that it gives me an opportunity to get to know new parts of her personality, I love that mid-cry, I can still trick her into a smile if I time my peekaboo just right. At least once a day I get overwhelmed with love and have to scoop her up and smother her in hugs and cuddles, telling I love her over and over again and lately it's when she's in a whiny mood that my love comes gushing out. She doesn't want to kiss me, that's ok. It breaks my heart a little but it's ok, because she can't stop me from kissing her double to make up for it!
The holiday season is officially upon us and with it comes so many memories & emotions. I get a catch in my throat and a tear in my eye every time I think ahead to upcoming holiday traditions and realize that my daughter is here to experience it all with me. I also get a pang when I remember the holiday seasons before this one. It wasn't long ago that I was in tears all season long as I furiously flipped channels away from commercials for baby's first Christmas ornament and tried to avoid the line of eager little ones waiting to see Santa. So recently, I spent my Christmas crying into my husband's shoulder as we mourned together a "gift" worse than coal when my BFN was confirmed and AF arrived. I will always remember the deep longing I felt this time of year and the sheer pain of feeling like the only woman in the world that wasn't a mother during what was for everyone was "the most wonderful time of the year".
Even now as we trimmed our tree earlier tonight, I could feel the echo of those familiar emotions with each ornament we hung from that time in our lives. It is incredible how much emotion can be tied to an object, where just seeing it can make you feel exactly as you did when it made whatever 1st impression it had on you. When I pulled out last year's ornament, tears instantly welled in my eyes as I remembered how much hope and happiness came when we knew Snow Pea was on her way. And now this year, she is here and I can't wait to find the perfect ornament to commemorate that and how beyond overjoyed we are. Along with this there are so many holiday firsts I can't to witness and experience along with my daughter. High on the list is her first visit to Santa.
I have always been a big fan of Santa. I am a believer. I never worried if the mall Santa's beard was fake because he was just a helper anyway. When all of the other kids in school outgrew him, I felt sorry for them because I knew that since they didn't believe, he wouldn't come to their house and I defended my conviction even when I was the only one left in my class that believed. I waited up every Christmas Eve, heard hooves on my roof and saw glowing red noses in my windows. Christmas was pure magic for me and when I finally reached the point when the real world started to dampen some of the magic I felt lost. I cried to my mom that the magic of Christmas, of childhood was gone and I didn't know what to do. I wanted to be Peter Pan and never grow up, but time marched on and I was growing up anyway. She comforted me and told me her biggest secret. She had never wanted to grow up either but she had to, just like I did. The secret is to hold on to as much magic as possible and it will come back even stronger when you can live it all again through your children's eyes. And I could see in her eyes just how amazing it had been for her to see me and my sister giggle excitedly as we checked for our rewards from the tooth fairy, hunt for treasures from the Easter Bunny and stare in awe at the man in the red suit. That was the moment I knew for sure that more than anything in the world I wanted to be a mom. I wanted to give to my children what my mother had given me- the magic of childhood.
And now here it is. My child is here, and although she is too young to truly understand, I am convinced she already has a sense of that magical spirit I have always carried, and just like her mother, she is already a fan of Santa Claus. This past Thanksgiving morning we had a normal morning routine of breakfast, playtime and nap only this time we had the parade on in the background. she watched a few seconds here and there but mostly kept herself entertained with other things. Until Santa came on. As soon his his float came into view, Eliana stopped what she was doing and looked up intently and his jolly face came on screen she started giggling and waving to him! And she went right back to her book when the parade ended and Santa was gone. It was only him she was interested in. I have to admit I got a bit teary-eyed and excited when I saw her reaction. We haven't taken her to see Santa in person yet, so I am hoping she loves that experience as much as she liked seeing him on TV.
But even if she doesn't love meeting Santa as much as I did as a child, this Christmas is already the most miraculous and magical one I could have ever imagined because I have the most precious treasure of my life in my arms to enjoy it with. I will never forget how heartbreaking my childless holidays were and I will be holding all those still hoping and struggling this holiday season close to my heart. I feel so unbelievably blessed to be finally be a mother this Christmas. It is my childhood Christmas wish come true. And if I could ask Santa for any Christmas wish this year it would be to bring this same hope & happiness to all of you.
I never know how to start new blog posts. Why is it that those first few sentences of anything you're writing are always the hardest to get out? You usually know what you want to say, what point you want to make, what emotions you hope to convey, but getting them started is always the tricky part, at least for me anyway.
