8 weeks together

Today this little guy is 8 weeks old:



We are doing fine here. He's settling in nicely, gaining and growing like he should be, and is more of a joy every day. We're settling in too, as parents. I love the fun of playtime and bathtime, and I'm finally learning to recognize when naptime needs to happen (and help it to happen, like right now).

Despite the six years I spent waiting and hoping for a child, I was pretty unprepared when I finally got my chance. A big part of it was that I was scared to think/read about what it would be like after the baby got here, because I was terrified something bad would happen at the last minute. Even when they were tugging him out of my body (probably the wierdest feeling of my life) I could hardly believe it was really happening. And then, there he was. I always said I'd believe he was really coming when I saw him with my own two eyes, but even after I saw him, I still found it hard to believe for a while. Like, for a month or so. Yes, the baby was in my arms, but I had a hard time believing it. So strange.

And like so many have said, getting here doesn't erase what happened before. I know this isn't news to anyone reading this blog, it can't be. But having him here now, I can't help but think that my first one would have been five years old in a couple of months. And my MIL doesn't help matters. It's like now that we have a baby, she thinks that all the years of insensitive remarks and actions are just erased. I have forgiven, but I don't think I can forget. It's a long story, and one I can't get into now, but the feelings haven't gone away.

The other thing I think about a lot now is whether I'd do it again. Yeah, I know it's soon. But if we do want to do it again, we don't have long to wait. We started trying when I was 31; I'm 37 now. Those odds aren't great for having another, if we wait for long. So I'm thinking about it.

Before he arrived, when I was pregnant, I felt like we'd have to try again. I even said so in Julie's comments. Now that he's here, I just don't know. I didn't love pregnancy and I doubt I would love it if I got to do it a second time, but that's not why. The C-section was fine, my recovery was really easy so that's not holding me back. The breastfeeding... god, if I got to do it again I'd try once more, but I'd try not to be so devastated if it didn't work out.

But the main thing holding me back now is that I don't want to have any more miscarriages. I just don't want any more. Five miscarriages plus the "vanishing twin" -- six embryos, pregnancies, babies, however you think of them -- that's a lot of lost potential. And now that he's finally here, the thought of losing another one suddenly feels even worse than it did before. I mean, of course, before we succeeded, I had more of a drive to keep going until we made it happen. I grieved every one we lost, but I was determined to keep on going. Now I just don't know.

Of course, this is how I feel today. Tomorrow could be totally different. Either way, the thought of going back to treatment is daunting. Not that we'd start right away, but within a couple of years for sure.

In the meantime, he is great. And he's plenty. I am just so grateful he's here. I wrote thank-you notes to all my doctors with the birth announcement. It was a lot of doctors. RE, OB, diabetes doctor, therapist, and my non-stress test nurse. A thank-you note was a very small thing compared to the size of my gratitude. I hope they all realized that.