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.

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  1. I swing back and forth. In those bad moments with TK, I say to myself, well at least once we are through this phase, I never have to go through it again with another one. And then there are the good moments. Those precious moments when your heart just wants to burst with happiness or with pride or both and then I remember I will only go through this once and my heart wants to burst again with heartache.

    I don’t know if it will help you, but it helps me to know that even moms with more than one kid feel this nostalgia when their youngest grows up. It’s just that they got to do it more than once.

  2. Nostalgia gets me every time. [[Hugs]]

  3. I was talking to my therapist about regret and my worry that if we stop our pursuit for #2 that I will regret not having waited or tried longer or harder. I commented that my life with our son is so happy now and I worry that it won’t be as happy if we stop. Her comment to me was that I need to live in and with the happiness I feel now and no that no matter what we decide, I already AM happy. And, that, even if we did stop our pursuit, regret can live side by side with happiness. Regret doesn’t trump happiness so much as it is an acknowledgement of something we wanted (or did) that didn’t turn out as we hoped. And, that the more we try for something that we don’t get, the less the regret because we can’t fault ourselves for not trying.

    I’ve sat with that for the last couple of weeks and it has lightened my load a bit. We are happy as a family of three. I have my son. We are a family. We are trying to expand our family but if that doesn’t happen then the life we have will not be over or minimized.

    I am here with you.

  4. I was going to say what Summer said about how even moms who choose their family size always feel that nostalgia. I’ve actually several people talking about this recently.

    For what it’s worth, I hear the beginnings of peace and acceptance when I read between the lines on your posts. What I get from you is that you are grieving, and it is a process with some days inevitably being better than others. But that you are embracing the positives and moving forward.

    *Hugs*

  5. Oh you’re right! The interrupted sleep! It is back again here, too, and he is so emotional sometimes in the middle of the night and finds it so hard to settle back down. Thanks for that thought, I hadn’t put it together yet (blame the, er, sleep deprivation).

    But nostalgia. Yes. There’s always that. There would be an element no matter how many kids you had, but there must be an extra element when it wasn’t as many as you’d hoped for.

    Bea

  6. That’s really a great perspective on nostalgia: that it happens even if you have the choice. I don’t know how to live with regret. I don’t know that living and “finding peace” will ever happen. I kind of think that all the living that you do while you try to get over something muffles the feelings a bit, but that they will never go away. Nugget has been hard lately, too. Weirdly, potty training has made him act MORE like a baby. He’s been crawling around and talking in baby talk lately. He will mewl like a cat and want to be held. Sigh.

  7. I had this moment the other day where I was looking at E. and thought to myself, “My goodness you look like a little boy!” And then I cried. Because it occurred to me that even at three months, he is already growing up SO fast and changing so much. And even though I’m coping SO much better with motherhood now that I’m not as sleep deprived, and he’s more interactive, I could suddenly see why people get that yearning for another one.

    And when I am tired and frustrated, I remind myself to hold tight to these moments, to kiss his little head as often as I can, because this might be my only chance to experience them. So thank you for giving me that perspective.

    (I hear you on the sleep changes- E. just learned to pinwheel on his back and seems to be doing it non-stop in his crib at night, so he’s up far more often than what used to be normal.)

    xoxo
    T.

  8. It’s funny because right before I read this post, a photo of my son (who will be 2 in about 3 weeks) popped up of when he was just a few months old and playing on his daddy’s chest and I got very nostalgic and then to read my exact thoughts in your words…

    I absolutely love that you called O an asshole. I know some people would be offended but I laughed…because yes, little boys who say “Stop Mommy” when you try to sing to them (my son does this!) are assholes! 🙂


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