1 year later

I am overwhelmed today with the beauty of my daughter. 

We celebrated her 1st birthday a few weeks ago.  It was a beautiful celebration of life.  We invited our "village."  The amazing amazing family and friends that have surrounded us as we have been raising our daughter in her first 365 days of life.

And more tears have fallen in the past couple of weeks then in all of the first year of her life.  They are tears of.... I don't know... probably a mix of joy but also probably some tears of grief and  relief.

Her 1st birthday was much more than a celebration of her 1st year of life, it was much more than a celebration of the amazing village that loves her and has loved her even before she was born.  For me, it was the anniversary of the end to the darkness and the beginning of a new chapter.  And the beauty that flows out of this new chapter is so hard to fathom, it brings me to my knees.

I have said it here before, and I will say it again-  holding a child in my arms is not the cure all for all of life's woes, nor does it erase the pain and woundedness of years of loss and infertility, but the profound joy that trickled into my world like a ocean wave the day she has born has only continued to multiple.  the joy is uncontainable.

Her birth for me was the end of a very dark journey, one that I wish no one knew.  But a journey that forever will be my story and will be part of the fabric of who I am.  The days, weeks, months, and years of longing often brought me to the edge wondering if I could take it any longer.  The waiting upon waiting...without knowing how it would end broke me in ways that I shudder to remember.

And yet, I did not break.  Instead, who I am today is a delicate interwoven story of strength, joy, and gratitude that well up from those near broken places in me.

I know without a doubt that infertility gave me a gift-  a gift that allows me to hold my daughter with a bit more intensely, knowing how long she was longed for.  It gave me a gift of awareness that no matter how frequently and easily others seem to announce they are pregnant (again), that I know that every life that comes to be is a miracle too big to comprehend.  And it will take a lifetime I think to even begin to comprehend the miracle that runs into my arms each day with slobbery kisses and wonderful hugs.

Doing it all over again

When we were going through the dark and ugly journey of multiple miscarriages-  there were several times my husband and I said, "we just can't do this again."

And through the month and years of IF, I would look back on the road behind us after month after month of TTC failed-  and I would say to my husband "I don't know if I can keep doing this."

As much as I longed to be pregnant, and as beautiful as it was to finally experience it, I felt rotten, miserable, horrid for almost the full 40 weeks.  And I said over and over again to anyone and everyone "I just can't do this again."

And now, now that I have smelled, and held, and kissed the chubby cheeks of Baby girl, all I can say, all I can think about is that "I want to do this all over once again."

She is 5 months old and there hasn't been a week (or day...) that has passed without me thinking to myself that I want to do this again-  and soon.  I want another child.  I want to be pregnant again.  I want to give birth again.

I never thought I'd be one of those moms that wanted children close together-  but it is almost all I think about.

But I have gotten a little bit cocky, I think.  I think about it, and plan for it-  as if it is an absolute.  And nothing is for certain in this long long road of IF.

we have two frozen babes on ice.  And I am certain those emb-babies are what are contributing to my cockiness.  I KNOW we have two more tries.  And given we got pregnant and had a RLB with just one fresh IVF cycle, my logic assumes one of those frozen babes will be the magic ticket to number two.

But the doubt is there.  the grief still bubbles slowly and quietly up.  I know there are no guarantees.  I know I have no control.

I dont' know how I'll handle if one of those two don't stick.  I haven't begun to let it sink in that this may be the one and only in my arms.  But I'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

I'm hoping come Fall, or for sure early winter, to try for #2.  DH still needs some time to warm up to the idea of doing it that soon-  so I am being patient to let him sit with the idea.

But one way or another-  I want to do it all over again. I do.  It is worth it to me the risk of more heartache. So worth it.

It is April.

It is April today.  The month of March is gone.  It came and went without fanfare.  For the first time in 5 years, March came...and went...and I didn't even notice.  It wasn't until today, as I flipped open my April calendar that I realized the significance. 

There were no tears shed this March.  None.
There was no grief that left me gasping for air.  None.
There was no emptiness. None.

There has not been a March in the past 5 years that wasn't gut wrenching.

March 2008 we grieved the shock and devastation of our first miscarriage, March 2009 brought out second miscarriage, March 2010- the agony of more trying and waiting and nothing.  March 2011-  we finally saw our first heartbeat, and we cried, and held our breath to see what would come.

March 2012-  came and went without a second glance, and it can only be that that emptiness is healing, and with healing comes contentness.

I know I haven't written in ages.  I know I owe you a birth story and pictures.  I still think of this space all the time.  I don't know what to write most of the time.

I don't want to sound like having a baby is a cure all.  I don't want to imply that our daughter in our arms washed away all the agonizing years of infertility and loss.  I don't ever want to in any way discount that the past 5 years were absolutely gut wrenching-  and I would be doing a disservice to myself and anyone who has walked that road if I were to in anyway imply that a child, and only a child heals those wounds.

But...

I never thought I would ever be able to pass through the month of March without a second glance.  I always thought it would tear me apart in some way. 

But it didn't.  And the joy I feel being a mom surpasses anything i could have ever imagined.  It is that good.