Dear Taylor,

I love you.  There isn't anything more important I have to tell you than that I love you, always.  You changed my life and me in so many ways.  Thank you.  

I am a different parent, a better parent, because of you.  My life taught me planning, competition, organization, and logic.  I think I would have been a good parent.  I would have scheduled our lives together and they would have been amazing. I would have read every book and charted every moment. Your absence has taught me see life differently, though.  Instead, I force myself to slow down and enjoy the minutia of daily life with your brother.  Instead of reading the books that tell me what is suppose to happen, I focus on watching it unfold in front of me.  

I will always miss and long for the moments we never had together, sweet baby girl.  Today, I work hard to focus that energy on appreciating the moments I do have.

I love you, and I hold you forever in my heart.

Love,

Mommy   

Judge-y Parents

The most surprising thing for me about motherhood is how much more laid back it's made me.  Maybe it was the long road to get here, maybe it was the relief of his safe arrival, or maybe I was just wound so tight that the last littler turn just undid the spring entirely.  Whatever it is, since little man has arrived, I've been much more laid back.  I've also been more patient with the world and I think over all a nicer person.  That is not to say that I'm a patient and perfect saint.  I'm just a bit softer I think.

I have historically had a strong opinion on almost everything.  I've prided myself of being willing to change my opinion in the face of compelling evidence, but I hardly ever sat on the fence.  Yes or no.  Right or wrong. Black or white.  That's changed as well.  For us, and for little man, on most fronts, the middle of the road works best.   The only problem with this position is that you get judged on both sides.  "You let your baby sleep in your bed??"  "You make your baby sleep by himself in a crib?"  "You own a stroller??"  "You carry that big baby around all of the time??"  "You exclusively breastfeed?"  "Why would you ever consider solids before 6 months?"

The list goes on.

There are a million ways to raise a child.  It seems that most of them, when used with love and common sense, work fine. I don't understand the need to judge.  If it works for you, I'm glad!  If not, know that there are other options that are equally valid to try.  

I'm grateful for my more laid back personality as I brave the world of parenting.  It allows me to listen and hear with out needing to defend my position or win anyone to my side.  I hope to find a well rounded circle of support that allows me to find the best options for me and my family without feeling the need to conform to a particular school of thought or single parenting philosophy

Changes.

I realized my blog header was no longer really accurate.  Although I'm not feeling particularly creative, I decided it was time for a few changes.  I considered changing my title again.  I decided not to.  I remember the day I changed my blog title last time.  I was miscarrying our third pregnancy.  We were curled up watching Harry Potter....  

My title isn't accurate really.  I don't dwell on dreams the way I did before baby arrived.  I'm living a dream and it's a wonderful dream.  But there are still dreams I long for, particularly the dream of Taylor.  The baby girl whose personality I know nothing about.  I don't know if she would nurse as enthusiastically as her brother.  I don't know if she'd have his amazing eyes.  I don't know what she would like or how she'd respond to her world.  I don't question if I would trade this life for the one where I know those answered.  It's a ridiculous form of self torture that's completely irrelevant.

When I went for baby's first pediatrician appointment when he was three days old, the doctor had heard about a disagreement I'd had with the NICU staff.  I apologized for being difficult, but told him I didn't really mean it.  "You're his mom, it's your job to protect him and stand up for him no matter what."  I'm her mom, too.  As life flows ever forward, I will always be.  I'll hold my missing babies in the protection of my heart forever.       

April Fools.

I officially hate April Fool's Day.

From now on, I'm renaming April 1st "Fa.cebook avoidance day."  Baby's safe arrival has softened the blow of lots of things from shower invites to pregnancy announcements.  But fake pregnancy announcements really get to me.  To be so flippant about something so miraculous and so wanted by so many people seems cruel to me.

I'm sure those who are longing for a partner or recently heart broken feel the same about fake relationship status 'jokes'.

I'm for a prank as much as the next person.  But pranks should be fun and funny and mutually enjoyable.

/rant.

To end on a more positive note, things are going great with baby.  He's healthy, happy, and striving.  Sleep is a struggle, but despite my doctor's recommendation, we aren't going the route of hard core sleep training.  I'm so incredibly lucky to report that feeding is going wonderfully.  We were recently able to donate 200 oz of milk to a milk bank that prepares milk for NICU babies.

A year ago...

A year (and a few days) ago, I found out I was pregnant for the fourth (fifth?) time in my life.  I gulped air, called my RE and tried so hard not to get attached.  My heart raced with every twinge.  My heart broke all over again when I started spotting a few days later. 

Today, my baby boy snores softly in his bassinet next to me.  I miss Taylor every single day.  Watching him toss and turn, I wonder what if would have been like with her and the others.  But the fear and the anxiety that filled the last two years are gone.  It's hard for me to accurately remember how hard his pregnancy was for me, especially the first months of it.  I read a few of my posts recently looking for some information for another blogger.  Reading them I can vaguely remember being there, but those feelings that defined me for so long are almost completely inaccessible to me right now. 

I'm grateful for that.  I'm grateful for 2012, but reading my blog; well, it remembers, even if my sleep deprived new parent self can't.  I would walk that path a million times to get to my son, but I am so grateful for the fog time can introduce to memory.  Not the memory of my children, but the memory of the accute and consuming fear. 

I haven't been writing much lately.  But I'm lurking.  Cheering for those who are still in those dark places... 

Revisiting our RE

While the 'assisted reproductive' services were limited, I'm incredibly thankful for our RE.  He was our third attempt, and we only saw him because he was (partially) covered by our insurance.  After a horrible experience at another clinic, I'd decided we were going to go with an RE a friend used.  When we met him, my husband hated him.  But he hadn't attempted an IUI when I was there for an RX for clo.mid, so he was still the better choice.

My husband didn't even go with me to meet Dr. W.  I walked in with my binder of notes and was ushered into a crazy office filled with Rolling Stones gear and piles and piles of paper.  I had googled the doctor before hand, so his appearance didn't astonish me, but even with preparation  it was surprising.  Part Einstein (think hair), part Rock and Roller, part Doctor.

Our experiences with him and his office were overwhelmingly positive.  We spent the first weeks of our pregnancy holding our breath and listening to Rolling Stones while waiting for the flickering light of our baby's heartbeat in his office.  We are incredibly grateful for his help and support.  While I was pregnant, we found a Rolling Stones lullaby CD.  We obviously bought two.  Last week, we decided to take a trip to drop the other copy off for Dr W. (Baby loves our copy, btw!)

The visit was much more stressful for me than I would have anticipate, but it was wonderful to see Dr. W and tell him thanks again in person.  If we ever decide to try again, it's unlikely we'd return to him.  Our OB said he'd be able to give us all the required medications and support.  But we will always be grateful for Dr. W.

If only Buddhism could heal my heart.

I'll start by apologizing to Buddhists.  I have a very rudimentary understanding of your religion and I am not intending to be offensive.

But tonight, I wish I was a Buddhist.  I miss Taylor so much.  I sense the her-shaped hole in my life.  I am so grateful for our rainbow.  I love that boy with every fiber of my soul.  And I miss the children I'll never hold.  I wish I was a Buddhist because I wish that I could believe that the soul of my lost children came back in my son.  Perfect circle, no room or need for tears.  I read that in a blog once with a bit of envy... But I'm not, and I don't.

My grief is different now.  I sat and stared, still in awe and wonder, at the sleeping face of my baby while I wept silent tears for the ones I'll never see.  I promised myself that when he wakes up, I won't groan and wish for a slightly longer stretch of sleep, but that I'll kiss his forehead three extra times, and snuggle him a little bit closer.

Yes, my grief is different, but it's still here.