It helps to know that when I’m deep in laundry and diapers, there’s another mama out there doing exactly the same.
It was a Friday night with a forecast of a full moon, lunar eclipse and comet. All three of these universal occurrences pulled my body into an 18-hour labor.
Prior to having my son I dreamt of play groups and mommy-and-me classes. I expected breastfeeding to be a breeze and I expected my son to take a bottle like most babies do.
Enjoy the extra cuddles in the middle of the night. Laugh at the milk spilled on the kitchen floor.
I may not ever forgive my OB, but I hope I forgive myself one day. And I dream of a future where empathy is a non-negotiable standard for professionals in the health and medical industry.
I wonder what will happen when someone asks them why they have 2 mums. I wonder about the time when one of them asks how babies are made and I hope we can answer proudly and tell them about the Greatest and Most Generous Man in the World.
I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. While I excelled in school and had fleeting thoughts of this and that; I never found my passion to pursue and turn into my ‘dream’ job.
As we looked around and saw other families grieving, we realized it was okay to be sad. It was okay to cry and just be in the moment.
Infertility temporarily changes a person. It can make you selfish; it can make you shamefully jealous; it can make you irritated when friends complain about their own kids…
I hope you never have to become a faceless, nameless, shoved-to-the-side statistic. I pray you never have to feel the tear in your heart as you read debates clumping you in with the likes of Charles Manson and Hitler.