Of Course

I was trying to look back a few pages so I could properly credit this next question but I accidentally wound up in my archives. So I spent some time reading old posts about the beginning of my last pregnancy (the good one. see also: Caroline; Edward) and I got to the part where we had a suspicious looking nuchal translucency prior to scheduling CVS. I sat here and cried as I read it. I can remember having that ultrasound. I can remember the certainty that one of the babies carried an unbalanced translocation. And I can remember how stupid I felt for having ever dared to be optimistic in the first place; for somehow forgetting that I was doomed. And then there was the waiting - there was always more waiting - and finally the amazing unexpected unbridled joy of good test results and the hope which came crashing down like snow off a mountain. I just cried like I have not cried in... I don't even know how long.

If I have not said this before I should have: I would do it all again. I would relive every moment of the past nine years to bring Caroline and Edward into the world. No question. And I only hope that I would spend each second of that time recognizing how lucky I was to even try.

Two nights ago I had Edward's nice round head pressed under my chin; his long body curled on my chest. He was snoring, of course, and I fatuously contemplated what a sweet snore he has - part grunt part wheeze pure melody. Like the Country Bunny in my little gold shoes I have already decided that Edward will be my musical child and he will sing to me with his hands clasped together; soft, sad ballads in which the hero is pierced by arrows and the maiden throws herself down a well. As we sat there in the dark, Edward and me, I told him, "I waited for you I waited for you I waited for you ."

It took nine years. It was hard. You keep your head down; you keep your chin up; you remember that so many people are suffering more than you are and you feel ashamed; you learn compassion; you feel grateful and you feel anguish and you hope for better days to come.

My children are perfect and I would not change a moment that has passed.

Comments

[Anna]

You are brave and amazing and I continue to be so so happy for you.

[Lisa]

After 5 years of wanting, 15 months of trying and one miscarriage I realize how damn lucky I am to be 31 weeks pregnant with my son. I used to see pregnant ladies and feel bitter and pissed off, now I just realize that no one knows what a person goes through to be pregnant. You never know if the woman who is heavily pregnant went through years and years of loss and infertility or if she's just lucky and got pregnant the first month. I hope to soon tell my son as he's curled on my chest "I waited for you" too.

Beautiful post, now ya got me crying. LOL.

[Dawn]

Beautiful. You are a wonderful mother who treasures her children for the miracles they are. Love reading you!

[dee]

If I wasn't already convinced that you are a wonderful mother, I would be now.

[Lisa V]

Beautiful, Julia.

[Lisa]

I cried then too. And now. So happy for you / your joy.

[Lisa C]

This is perhaps the loveliest post I have ever read. Thank you for sharing it all with us - the fear, the despair, the disapointment, the beauty and the joy.

[charmingdriver]

First, I totally feel for you weeping at archives; I pretend my don't exist for the most part.

Second, this is the best post ever. Ever.

[Kim]

Hey Julia - Just wanted to comment that I, too, am enjoying your frequent posts! It's crazy to think I've been reading your blogs for seven years now, back to the iParenting days! I know what you mean about that quiet time when they sleep against you - as ours are now 6, 4, and 2, those days seem so long ago! But blessings to you all...(and to the previous Anon poster re: Steve, she obviously just doesn't get sarcasm meant in the most loving way, of course! haha)

All the best, Kim

[Geohde]

Frequent reader, rare commenter.

Just a beautiful post.

J

[Sheridan]

And you made me cry too. I feel like I am only a relatively new reader at about 4 years, but, my, what you went through in those 4 years!!

I'm just so happy for you. You deserve every one of those beautiful moments.

PS I love, love, love the regular posts. You are sweet to spoil us.

[WendyP]

Thank you. Oh, how I long to be where you are.

[E]

I am so blessed with my son, now 6 years old. But I have now given up on trying for another.
All the miscarriages and failed IVF have left me with is no hope.
And I am just so tired of putting us through it all again.
I salute your courage and I congratulate you.
Well done. You beat it.

[cbrm]

I'm on the train trying REEEALLY hard not to cry. I had one of those epiphany moments in the wee hours of the night - nothing like it in the world.

[chris]

i have an embarassment of riches (4 bio and 1 romanian import) and i treasure them in that same way. the next years will fill you with amazement at what *different* people they grow up to be. blessings!

[Joy]

Beautiful. Thank you.

[Sally]

Like Lisa C said, lovely.

[Allison]

Beautifully written and poignant. Now I'm crying at work (which I try to avoid).

[LMM]

You made me cry too...
I had a similar moment not long ago with my now-9-month-old daughter who continues to be a joy and a miracle and a revelation every single day. It was worth three years and three miscarriages. I just wish I could reach back and tell the me of 2004-2006 that it would all be OK and all be worth it.

[Amber]

this reply was supposed to go on your redbook post, but it wont work so I am posting it here. hope that's ok.

I only have one son who will be 5 in August. I wanted more. alot more. but after 9 fresh cycles and 4 fet's...and the wonderufl people of The Grove saying you dont have to go home but you cant stay here, I finally realized this is what I am getting. One beautiful boy. and I am thankful.

While playing with all the other children in our neighborhood one sunny saturday, I realized that I am the only one with only one child. ugh.

a few hours later, when the little beasts were darting onto the street, my son followed. He knows better. I calmly called him over to me, and there, in front of my (fertile) neighbors said the following "AJ, you may not go onto the street. I know A, B, C, D, & E are in the street but you are still not allowed. I am sorry. But if something happens to one of them, their mommies have a back up kid. I only have you and I cant risk it. "

[Amber]

I waited for you I waited for I waited for you.

yep, my feelings exactly.

[ksmaybe]

yes. just yes.

(and a few tears being blinked back. I am at work dangit.)

[wendy]

That is about the sweetest thing I've ever read.

[Elizabeth]

I remember when you made the post screaming that they were normal, normal, normal. I cried then and I'm crying now.

[ALH]

Thank you so much for this. I am still on the dark side of the street, but everything you say is true: it teaches you so much about yourself and about other people.

[G]

Thank you for this post. Beautiful.

[Aurelia]

I cried then and I'm crying now, oh I know how you feel, every time I hug Julius, every time I think back on all the miscarriages and the REs who said I should give up, that it would never never happen.

They are so worth it, aren't they?

[sarah]

Delurking to say over the past 4 years I've read your blog several times over. You deserve all the happiness in the world and much, much more.

[Samantha]

While I can't know exactly what you're feeling, it's certainly in the same ballpark. After 4 years, 3 IUIs, 2 IVF's, 2 FET's, and 2 miscarriages, we successfully had one son this January. I remember when he was just 3 days old. My in-laws were over at the house, being jackasses about something or other (along the lines of that I shouldn't feed him right away when he was hungry and we should make him cry it out at night. At 3 days old, but I digress...). I carried my son upstairs away from the BS, looked into his giant, dark eyes, and said "thank you for being here," as I burst into tears.

He's 6 months old today and the fact that he exists still fills me with amazement.

By the way, I have this (no longer) secret fantasy that my son will hook up with Caroline one day. I know she's a wild thing and will undoubtedly have a thousand suitors, but I still like to consider the possibility.

[MrsWaltz]

Oh, my.
That was beyond lovely. Uberlovely. Really.
I'd say more but your eloquence evades me and besides, I have to go home and hug my children now.

[Sarah]

when I had my first, and hopefully only, miscarriage on the 4th of July, one of my first thoughts was of you "If Julia can live through 11, I can live through 1". Thank you for never giving up, and inspiring many of us who are walking a similar road.

[Lee]

"I waited for you I waited for you I waited for you ."

Reading that made me cry, cry, cry.

[stephanie]

I have a habit of going back and reading my post from that or this day a year ago. It is a great reminder where I had been and how far I have come. It keeps me thankful for the blessing of the journey I have taken.

These babies are true miracles and blessings. Thanks for the reminder...I never want to forget our blessings!

[Julie]

Oh yes. Sitting looking at new photos of my beautiful older daughter and my sweet new baby and thinking how I would never give up the painful years of uncertainty and paperwork and procedures that made this family. Thank you.

[Kim]

Goosebumps now...

I was thinking just this morning of how I found out these guys were going to be okay. (Don't ask - I was thinking about my old cell phone.) I was in Kansas City for a church conference, and I had been basically alone in California all summer; my only tether to sanity was through the internet. And I had left my computer in California because I was with friends in KC. Anyway, I did figure out that I could check websites on my dinky little phone, and so I checked yours. There was nothing, and nothing, and then I remember being in the middle of this huge conference center and seeing "NORMAL" pop up on that tiny little phone screen. I was so very happy for you, and for the 13s, and I did, I cried.

I am so thankful that you never gave up.

[Alex]

Another regular reader and commenter here crying happy tears for you.

You have taught me so much, mostly that I am no judge of what another person should choose. I watched you persisting and wondered how you did it (and I did not and do not think I could have endured what you did), but your beautiful words always made it clear that you were sane, lucid, and pursuing the path that -- given the alternatives available -- was the right one for you.

I always knew and never, ever doubted that you would (and should, if it came to that) do it all again. Still, it is lovely to read your words.

[Sarah]

I'm sitting here with my sweet two week old son crying over my laptop. " I waited for you" is a common refrain. In the dark of the night I hope he feels how much we wanted him and how much he is loved.

[Christine]

I realise I'm pregnant, and therefore prone to it, but didya have to make me cry?

Melting into a big puddle of mush here.

[JuliaKB]

This is a lovely, lovely post. I am glad you have them, and I am glad you had that moment there with Edward. Your happiness since their arrival has been palpable, and so so wonderful to see.

I am a little sad that you have ever felt ashamed. I know some people who should feel that way, but you? You have had so much hurt, and you have dealt with it with so much grace. Others may have suffered more, but that doesn't make your suffering less real, your pain less deep.

On the exact flip side of this (and man, I hate to do this here, but I sat around for over an hour trying to decide whether to respond to this part, and I just can't keep it shut, even though I really would've rather preferred not to have this on this lovely post), I just can't believe Amber's comment. I can't find the words for someone who retells this story, so proudly. For someone who seems to have decided that she, by definition, has suffered more than anyone else, and that her child is so much more precious than anyone else. Apparently, in her book my son's death is no big loss, since I do also have a daughter. Although I am curious to know whether my daughter's loss, of her only sibling at the time, does count as tragic enough?

[Jenny]

I think all of this feel this way about our hard-won children, however they came to us. But you put it in a particularly beautiful way, Julia, as usual. :) Thank you for your beautiful post!

[MaggieO]

I first found your blog about a year and a half ago when my son was born and I started to read the mommybloggers for a sanity check (I hope you do not mind being characterized as such...you are my favorite of all of them). I went through all your archives, and I have to confess: I didn't think there was going to be a good ending to your story (beyond, of course, the wonderfulness that is Patrick). In the words of your beloved Miss Austen, "I am happy to be wrong." So very happy! It is still almost surreal to me to look at those two sweet babies. I really admire the way you were able to persevere without letting infertility take over your life and make it miserable. I know from experience that is tough to do, and I haven't gone through nearly as much as you have. I'm glad you got your happy ending, and I'm hoping to get to read your writing for many years to come!

[Betty M]

Beautiful as always. Sometimes I do wish the road hadn't been as hard - I still resent my fertile sisters - but then I see them there and I know that I wouldn't want it any other way.

[Crystal]

Well, I'd say the 98% is the twin thing. I'd say average would be 2nd child erodes 25% of parenting edge, but that number rises exponentially when you have two, because you have less sleep, less time, less sanity (the oppressive kind, but WAY more of the creative kind, good trade off, no?) and more baby love.

Now me, being the nutter I am, was MORE protective with Michael. Perhaps because I had secondary rather than primary infertility, and was considerably older. Also possibly because he was born in the car, they assumed a woman being transported to a county hospital named Crystal MUST be a crack whore, tested him for every substance known to man, and wanted to keep him in the hospital, "just in case".

We were the second couple to check our child out AMA in a 12 hour period, they called social services on the last family. They threatened to do same with us, but since we were licensed foster parents (and the darlings of the placement workers to boot, the rep you get for taking the kids bound for institutional placement I guess) they didn't get far with that BS. HMO came to their money-grubbing senses, said hey, um, we'll take the kid thank you, kept him 2 nights and sent him home, fit as a fiddle.

At that point I was in overprotective overdrive, and was letting folks hold Michael in 10 second bursts, all of which his tactile defensive self was not putting up with.

In short, you get a lengthy stretch with this baby when you pry him from my rigor-mortised hands.

A year later and a peaceful, uneventful homebirth and I was much more relaxed with Drew. Then again, he wasn't glued to my hip the way Michael was. To explain, Michael is not regressive form of autism, but classic, symptomatic from day 1. To say he he he is a bit... regimented in his desire for sameness is to say the tower of piza has developed a bit of a tilt. Drew's much more laid back, and everyone's best friend. And frankly after just over 12 months of having a rapidly growing human growth glued to my person.... want to hold the baby? Sure! Here's a few diapers and bottles, have him back by dinner.

Hence the swing baby, where Drew spent his first 5 months.

Fertility struggles sure have a way of humbling a person....

That said.... I'm still a bit over protective. There are still things I just can't compromise on, even though I see the benefits of the other side of the issue. There's always the dreaded risk/benefit ratio in my head, and while I have great admiration for benefit, I have a very low tolerance for risk. So life has decided to wrest control from my grasping claws more than once.

It's a problem. :)

That said.... Feh. I still fall back on a study quoted decades ago on Oprah that 98% of people claim to have an unhappy childhood. Or something like that. It's a losing battle. As long as you don't breach your conscience too severely, the rest is up to them, right?

One thing I have learned with the cancer and autoimmune stuff is I want my kids to be happy. I'm learning the best way to ensure that is just to model it for them. That's been humbling in itself. Skeptical, jaded, smartass me.... trying just to feel the joy, experience the abandon.

Not sure how well I succeed, but it's been comedically therapeutic. Meaning it's humorous (says my family) the extent to which I can make a complete ass of myself. I'm happy to be of service.

[Laura in L.A.]

Oh, Julia. Today is the five-year-anniversary of the day that my first RE told me that I would never have a child with my own eggs. (I was 38.) Five years and donor eggs and $100K and 3 miscarriages later, I still have no baby. But your post reaffirms that I am not ready to give up yet. "I waited for you I waited for you I waited for you." Amen.

And yes, I cried with you, and prayed for you, and checked your blog like a madwoman when we were waiting for results. I get chills just remembering the day of "NORMAL!" Thank you for sharing your life with us. I know you inspire me.

Love, Laura

[Natalee]

This post was an arrow (of happiness and hope) through my heart. Like many others, I cried then, and I cry now. Love you, Julia. Thank you for posts like these that remind me, even after 9 years, to not give up hope.

[Colleen]

Wow. Just ... wow.
You are amazing.
So happy for you.

[jana]

I remember those posts, too. I squealed with joy when you posted the "normal normal normal" one, startling my husband and daughter. I am so happy things worked out this way for you all.

[CA]

Same thing Sarah said up above. After years of wanting and waiting to have kids, my first pregnancy ended in miscarriage earlier this year. Too soon to tell if it was a one-off or if it points to larger problems, but either way I was devastated. One of the ways I got through it (and continue to get through it) is thinking of you and your three beautiful, perfect children. If Julia could get through all she went through, I can get through this. And I have faith that someday I will tell mine

I waited for you.

[Nicky]

Just beautiful. You have me crying into my morning coffee at work.

I also remember those posts and I hoped hoped hoped that it would end up alright. I couldn't have been happier for anyone to have their babies.

I haven't started trying for babies yet but like many commenters I already think, if Julia could cope with her miscarriages, I can cope with whatever comes my way. You're an inspiration, whether you want to be one or not.

Now, more baby pics, please! :-)

[Brandee]

yes, that's just it. I waited for each of mine too. I'm so glad the waiting is over.