Every night I go to bed, I have thoughts swirling in my head. Things to do. Scrapbook pages I want to create. Gifts I want to make. Skills I want to learn. And, of course, daily happenings that I don't want to forget, but invariably will by tomorrow morning, only to pop up in a random thought weeks down the road. So, here I am. I may use this blog daily to empty my head and heart before cuddling up in my duvet, or as it may be, I may write in it once a month. Who knows. It is for me, but perhaps something I write or learn may spark a fire in someone else. Perhaps it may quiet a mind or make you feel like you are not alone out there. It is for me. But perhaps it is for you.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Mama-Nico Nap Time

I love you. So much.

Okay, I get it.  I get why people have no problem with their babies sleeping on them.  Why they treasure it, in fact.  No, just a few weeks ago I didn't understand it.  All I wanted was a minute to myself...to eat, to wash my face, to put your bottles in the dishwasher so we would have some clean ones for your next feeding time, and perhaps to sneak in a little writing.  People kept telling me to enjoy it while it lasts but all I could think was 'Will this ever end?'

I have always been someone who needs personal space and alone time in order to be healthy and relaxed.  I need time to process my thoughts and express them through the written word in order to maintain a sense of peace.  Having a baby and a five-year old is not conducive to reflection beyond 'How can I keep these two munchkins happy?'  At least it isn't yet. 

My focus has been to enjoy Nico as I know he will be our last baby, and oftentimes I am successful while other times I wonder when he will reach the stage where he can sleep in his crib and not on me.  However the other day I got a form from the Pacific Centre for Reproductive Medicine (PCRM) that asked what we wanted to do with our frozen embryos.  Bam!  That helped me to focus the second I opened the envelope and realized what was inside.

Our journey to parenthood was a long, often foggy road.  After extensive testing and no reason as to why we could not conceive 'naturally', we went the route of In Vitro Fertilization.  It gave us our incredible Kai.  Fast forward four years and we returned to do a frozen embryo transfer with embryos from our IVF cycle, and Nico arrived soon after.  As anyone who has done any form of assisted reproduction knows, it is not a simple procedure.  Pills, injections, ultrasounds, blood tests...and this is just the start.  Emotionally and physically it is challenging, especially when the success of these medical procedures seems the only path to achieve one of my life long dreams - to be a mother.

So when I opened the envelope and knew it was time to say good-bye to our remaining embryos (by donating them to scientific research rather than incinerating them, which was definitely NOT an option), I felt like I was beginning to grieve.  My husband felt a sense of relief and I felt sadness.  Now, I know giving birth to another child is not in our future and am fine with that, but somehow giving up those embryos feels like each one was a little bundle of possibility that I am turning the light out on.  It feels like I am having a miscarriage again but this time it is my choice.  I am secure in our decision but still need time to let go.

So this is why I am holding so tightly to my little Nico and reveling in the little sighs he makes in his sleep and the warmth of his body on mine.  This is why I lean over the change table and exchange sweet smiles with him every chance I get.  My boys are my everything and I am so thankful that they both love to show affection and hold me close as well. 

1 comment:

  1. Ah Christine, wiping the tears :) I too remember that moment when I knew I would never have another baby. Like you, I didn't really want any more, heaven sakes - I had four and that was enough :) But still, it was sad saying good-bye to that part of my life. Even though it's a choice all of those things you spoke of still nibble at your brain and your heart. Hold them close - the time goes fast!
    Love, Mom