One year ago today, Strawberry and I woke up early on a Sunday morning and drove into the city for the IUI that resulted in Curly. It was mostly painless (I hate the speculum) and we stayed in the exam room for a good 20 minutes afterwards. It was our last vial of our first choice donor. Afterwards, we headed to a little French cafe and had cappuccinos and strawberry and nutella crepes. We had lied a little bit to our RE to get the IUI appointment since their policy was to do them a full 24hrs after a + OPK at the earliest, and we were beginning to think that my surges were very fast and our previous attempts had been too late. Still, we were feeling realistic about the process and had even purchased and shipped 3 vials of a new donor to our clinic for the next 3 tries. So when someone in TTC land asks me what we did differently the cycle that worked, I tell them we bought several hundred dollars worth of sperm that we wouldn’t ever use.
Today, I woke up and peeked in on a sleeping boy. He’d managed to get his right arm out of his new, larger swaddle and had it thrown up beside his head. His eyes were closed and his long dark lashes were resting on his soft plump cheeks. His cupid bow lips were slightly parted and puckered, as though he were sucking in his sleep. I caressed his soft fuzzy head and he stirred slightly before I picked him up and nursed him. Afterwards, as I changed him and gave him his medicine, he smiled at me sleepily. I reswaddled him, placed him back in the crib, kissed him on the cheek and quietly stepped out to start my day.
Here I sit at work, thinking of the boy I’ve left behind, thinking of how my life has changed, thinking of the things that I miss, and thinking of the new things that I love. This was supposed to be a post about how we were seated at the “baby table” at a wedding this weekend, but I think I’ll leave it as it is, to mark my feelings on this sunny August morning.
I know that for those of you who do not yet have your babes this will be an especially painful post, and I am sorry for causing you pain. But I also fervently hope that your day comes soon, and that a year or so from now you will be pausing to reflect, just as I am.