Winter Wonderland

Standard

As we lead into Christmas the busy-ness and stress is beginning to peak. Lots of little last minute things to do, baking and cooking, and preparing for lots of bouncing around for family visits before packing up and heading to the mountains for a few days with hubby’s family.

This time last year we were holding the secret of our brand new pregnancy, and this year we get to celebrate with our chubby, near four month old. Last year we got our Christmas wish in a successful FET, it was the best and only thing I really wanted and this year we get to enjoy our first Christmas as a family of three. We are truly lucky, because many with our same wish are still waiting. 

Admittedly I am feeling much more festive this year than Christmases past (even last year, as before our BFP we were in the throes of a very stressful on again off again FET cycle). I can’t wait for Christmas morning with my little family, baby snuggles with my daughter. It still seems weird to say that; my daughter. When does it get less weird? I do most of her day to day care, and spend nearly 24/7 with her but the reality that she is mine is still more than my brain can absorb. But my heart, I feel it there. Perhaps logic just takes a while to catch up. 

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, wishing you and yours the very best. And if 2015 wasn’t your year, I am sending love and light your way and hoping for a better 2016. 

Advertisements

#Microblog Mondays: You are Your Mother’s Child

Standard

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

                    **************

I understand the sentiment of the phrase “you are your mother’s child” but I’ve always thought it a bit silly. This weekend, it was exactly what popped into my head. We took baby C to see Santa this past Friday and luckily, hubby had a day off work so we went as a family. Of course we put her in a cute outfit to get the obligatory “first Christmas” photo. If she’s afraid of him in future years I won’t be the parent who plops the screaming child on Santa, when they’d clearly rather be anywhere else (though I will admit those photos are kind of funny, in a twisted way).

I held her in front of Santa for a minute while so she could see him, and while he asked what her name was, and how old she was before handing her over. The photographer had a bell and a puppet to get her attention and while she did look right at the camera, there was no way she was going to give us a smile. She wasn’t scared or crying, so we took what we could get, her looking surly (and adorable). 

She does give smiles, but honestly usually just to me, slightly less so to my hubby (poor guy) and occasionally to strangers. But otherwise she is a rather serious girl. She observes, and takes it all in; just like her overly analytical mom. Apparently my grey-blue eyes aren’t the only thing she’s inherited. 

#Microblog Mondays: The Butterfly Effect

Standard

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too. 
                    **************

While in the shower yesterday the date hit me; it was Dec. 13. That fateful day one year ago when our baby girl began to grow inside of me. I was a ball of anxiety for the week that preceeded my BFP (and for a good lot of the time afterwards too, but that was the first big exhale). I look at this chubby little 3 1/2 month old, sleeping in the other room and my breath still catches.

The learning curve of parenthood has been steep and difficult but oh so worth it. And really, I can say the same about our infertility experience I suppose. It was a rough road, but had we not gone down that path we would not have this precious little girl. I kiss her fuzzy head and breathe her baby smell and know that I would do it the same all over again because that specific embryo created this specific baby; and she is our daughter, the one sent from the universe specifically for us. 

Life is interesting that way, like a butterfly flapping its wings halfway around the world, one minor deviation can ripple out in innumerable and immeasurable ways. So I wouldn’t change a thing. 

#Microblog Mondays: I Am a Puddle

Standard

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too. 

                **************

I’ve always been a pretty unemotional person. Not that I don’t feel them, but I don’t show them. Ok, and I didn’t always feel them as strongly as others may have. My heart of stone has served me well at protecting myself in some occasions. Infertility really got to me, but you would never know it because I kept it in (or spilled it all over my blog).

Since my daughter was born, it seems that the stony exterior that protected my heart has crumbled. Initially, I could have blamed it on the postpartum hormones, but I think I have to admit it’s more than that. I have a little person that belongs to me, and I to her. 

I think through the course of dealing with infertility I closed myself up more, because it was easier than dealing with my emotions. Well the floodgates have opened. Just the other day, there was a commercial on for a sick kids foundation and I could not handle it. I cried, a lot, at a commercial. Like, not just welling up, “oh that’s sad”. Like big fat tears rolled down my cheeks, I started sniffling and when my husband looked over at me I sobbed; “it’s just so sad!”. I couldn’t imagine our little daughter in a situation like the one depicted in the commercial. I feel all the feels now. And it turns me into a weepy puddle. My baby girl has thawed this ice queen. And now for your viewing pleasure, The Commercial

Don’t watch it if you don’t want to cry. You’ve been warned