The Journey to a Little One to Call Our Own

One gal's experiences dealing with IF, pregnancy, the birth of our first son, parenthood, and doing it all over again with our second son... here is our journey.

Friday, December 23, 2011

I Didn't Miss Her One Bit

She's baaaaaaaaaaaaaack.


Over four months after the birth of my little guy, AF showed up. Completely unexpected (but, really, when should have I expected her?). I did a triple-take this morning in the bathroom when I realized what was going on.

To be honest, I am a bit happy she's here. I've been wondering what the heck is going on... my doctor said it would take a few months for her to show up again, but I was thinking more like 2 months after delivering. Also, I am going to start tracking again, hoping that in a couple of "regular" cycles, we'll be back on the TTC wagon again.

But, overall, I didn't miss her at all. The cramps, bloating, tampons... it all came back to me, and after my one minute of happiness faded away, I realized that I get to deal with her for the next week or so.


Welcome back, AF, welcome back.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011


I don't remember being as sad as I was this morning in a long time. Not throughout IF, not with my miscarriage, never through pregnancy, labor, birth, or post-partum.

I cried myself to sleep last night, woke up crying, cried getting ready, and cried in the car bringing Max to daycare.

Seriously, I could not get a grip, and I couldn't figure out why. I mean, sure, it isn't fun to leave your kid, but I knew he would be safe, cuddled, and protected. Were hormones finally rearing their ugly head? Who knows.

It was all I could do to hand him over to Susan this morning. She started asking me questions - how much has he eaten already this morning, have you changed his diaper recently, do you think he will nap this morning - and all of a sudden I got so choked up that I couldn't breathe, let alone answer her questions. Thankfully, Mr. D did drop-off with me this morning and could answer her questions as tears streamed down my face.

I cried all the way in to work, and finally was able to get a grip about 2 miles from my office. As soon as I stepped in to work, I was fine. It was the weirdest thing. Did I think about Max today? All the time. But I wasn't sad necessarily - just wondering what he was doing and if he was having fun. A few co-workers stopped by today, knowing that today would be tough.

I didn't get a ton done at work today, although I did have a pretty good meeting with my boss where she was impressed with my organization and updates. Guess I put my game face on.

I left work around 3:00 and picked up Max around 3:45. He had a great day and knew me the second I walked in the door. About 1,000 pounds lifted from my shoulders as he flashed me the biggest smile I've seen in awhile.

No more tears :)

Monday, December 5, 2011

But She's Not Me

This may make some of my blog followers roll their eyes and think, "Oh, Mrs. D, come on now... get over it."

But, tomorrow is a big day for me. For us. For our family.

Max starts daycare.

I have not been emotional at all through my pregnancy, birth, post-birth... nothing. No tears about anything. But daycare? Waterworks. I've cried about it since I started realizing it was real... my baby goes to this woman's home (who is completely lovely and I know will be wonderful for our little man) and he spends his whole day with her and 7 other little kids.

I am sitting here, bawling as I type.

Do I regret going back to work? Not in the least. I love my work so, so much, and not only do I selfishly want to have a career outside of being a mom, but I know it makes me a better mother (plus, who am I kidding... my salary keeps me working).

But, do I want my son to go to a foreign daycare every weekday, which I know he'll get to know and love but until then, he'll probably think I dropped him at a stranger's home with lots of crazy kids?

No. It makes me cry harder to think about it.

The worst thing is thinking that he might forget who I am. I know, realistically, that he'll remember me as soon as I say, "Hey, buddy!" when I pick him up, but still... will he wonder why his parents dropped him off in an environment that isn't his own?

I know our daycare provider will do a wonderful job cuddling, feeding, changing, and playing with him. Her name is Susan and she has had an in-home daycare for the past 33 years. She is the picture of a cuddly, warm grandma in her mid-to-late 50's. Super sweet, kind, and can't wait to snuggle Max.

But she - our daycare provider - isn't me. She doesn't know that when he gets a little fussy, whispering "I love you buddy" over and over in his ear will calm him down. She doesn't know that he doesn't like when his feet get cold. She doesn't know that he likes to hold on to a pointer finger, but not a thumb. She doesn't know that he needs to be held and rocked while singing the special "I Love You" song Daddy made up 5 times before he can lie down to sleep.

She can get instructed about all of these things, but she'll never do it the way I do.

And that is what makes me sad... he won't be with me.

Send me some prayers tomorrow... it's going to be a long, tearful day.