Chronicle.August 10, 2011 at 3:27 pm | Posted in Infertility, Moving On. | 8 Comments
I’m feeling nostalgic lately.
Maybe it was because my friend D had a baby this past Sunday. Maybe because O is so hard to deal with right now, throwing nutties here and there and everywhere.
Yesterday I went back to the early posts from when O was first born and read through them.
Ack, so much I had forgotten. That feeling of relying on EVERYONE else because I didn’t know anything about my baby – like I was imposter mother. I remember feeling everyone else knew more about my baby than I did.
(Because, uh, they DID.)
I don’t miss the sleep deprivation. Even now, when O has woken us up overnight for the past THREE nights*, I get annoyed that my sleep is interrupted. And I’m tired and grumpy the next morning.
But it’s not like those early days. I had forgotten that I was up every two hours with him early on.
I’m still sorting through my feelings over quitting treatments. More often than not, I feel at peace with it all.
But then there are the nostalgic days, when I remember the tiny weight of him sleeping on my chest and that sense of peace when it was he and I, rocking in the chair in his room.
How lilting his little cry was way back when, how it brought me to tears sometimes because he was so little and helpless.
That’s where I am right now. In the nostalgia.
O has become a little boy. With strong opinions, and wants, and needs. He is obsessed with all things baseball, and trucks, and tells me what to say (and what NOT to say).
We play hide and seek, and he helps me do dishes and feed our cat and put away laundry.
He orders his own food when we go out, and he insists on “paying” for snacks on his own.
And yes, we fight, too.
But he’s growing up. He’s my little boy, and the baby he was is gone.
And as exciting as it is to see him grow, on the nostalgic days, I find it hard that we’ll never get to experience infanthood again, to see our baby grow into a little person. To experience nursing now that I know what to expect.
And it’s so odd. Because I’m in this weird place where yes, I’m okay with being done, but I’m really not, either.
I have no real conclusion for this post. I still want to wrap it up in some neat bow and say “I’m AT PEACE!” and be done with infertility forever.
But there IS no conclusion. And though I am so much better with Moving On than I was even a few months ago, I still have a ways to go.
*I KNOW this is related to milestones – he always has sleep issues when he learns something new. Potty training is going exceedingly well, he’s done SO great, but I’m convinced it’s part of the woes of Age Three. I think being potty trained makes him feel proud to be a big boy… but it’s scary because the world is such a big place. I’m convinced this is part of why he’s such an asshole right now.