(Please don't read me if you are in a rough spot meeting your Take Home Baby. This might smell a little like ingratitude. I promise it isn't intended this way, but I remember my desperate times. Words like these would make me want to punch someone.)
Sleep. My love.
Husband? Sure, he is ok, but I would much rather take a nap with my true love, Sleep. I find in the growing complexities of toddler management and making this baby, Rocco slips down the list more with each passing day. Bless his heart.
I remember this place. You think delivery will bring you all the comforts of sleep. Then the baby shows up and you would give anything for one more night of baby-in-the-tummy cause sleep is ANNIHILATED when a little one shows up.
All my love and support to all the new Mommas out there struggling with the dream come true.
This fantasy is some hard ass work, isn't it?
It doesn't mean you still wouldn't sell your sibling for a child of your own. You and I have bled from our bones for these babies.
Needing a lot of support doesn't diminish our love for the babies, these babies who are here with us or those babies who were taken too soon. It doesn't mean we are not the Super Moms we imagined.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Mad ravings caused by a giant uterus
Rar.
I am impossible to please.
In early pregnancy when I started showing, I was pretty self conscious about my belly button. It was like a giant cave. I could hide a Twinkie in there. It would have been a perfect fit.
Now my button is starting to pop.
It feels perverse.
It makes me really, really self conscious. Belly erections.
I feel like a perv.
I am impossible to please.
In early pregnancy when I started showing, I was pretty self conscious about my belly button. It was like a giant cave. I could hide a Twinkie in there. It would have been a perfect fit.
Now my button is starting to pop.
It feels perverse.
It makes me really, really self conscious. Belly erections.
I feel like a perv.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Inviting historical figures over for dinner
Remember that question? What famous person would you most like to join for dinner? Alive or dead.
The first time I remember answering this question I ended up feeling pretty stupid with my choice. I said Jane Austen. The person who asked me the question picked Jesus. Jesus. Well, not sure how you beat that one. I think I picked a good one, but you sort of feel like a heel when you don't pick Jesus.
Yeah, I am not putting my donor on par with Jesus - but I wouldn't pick her for dinner either.
Melissa? This one is for you.
I had a heart squishy post a while back about how much I love donor eggs. Melissa asked questions about choosing a donor and defining the relationship. I am amazed someone succeeded in finding something I don't talk about here. I like to get all my donor thoughts down on paper so I can refer to them later.
It was important to me to find a donor who would allow our child(ren) to meet her when they reached the age of 18. It makes my hands a little sweaty to think about it. Absurd, really, but I bet when it happens it will be a time where I put on a Brave Face for DE child and inside I am scared skinless. But who knows. Maybe by then I will be so damn old that wisdom will have taken residence in my heart.
The option to meet the donor was not part of the standard contract. Our lawyers worked with donor's lawyers to discuss the idea. This is how the communication works. Everything is routed through the lawyers and agency. Our donor accepted the modification to the contract and proposed a change of her own.
Our donor has 2 (healthy! beautiful!) children of her own. She asked that her children have the right to contact our DE child(ren) upon the age of 18.
This broke my heart wide open. I sat there in the conference room on speakerphone with our lawyer, tears streaming down my face. I could only speak with that thick, teary voice. Of course we would accept the proposed change.
Bam. Any reservations I ever had about DE were put to bed right then and there. Another mother who understands what this is all about. Her biggest concern was her children. Just like me. She and I were both looking out for our little loved ones. I look forward to the day I meet her and I can tell her how much peace her request gave to me.
She offered another connection. She offered to meet Rocco and I before the contracts were signed. I said no thank you, dinner with Jane please.
I don't know why. I don't think about it much anymore. I believe I was terrified she might do or say something that didn't match the dreams in my heart and head. Shallow much, Roccie? I know.
I am also ashamed I never gave The Donor Gift. Oh, the process that many recipients travel through to find Just the Right Gift. I could never relate.
I never sent one. I never sent a card. What the fuck is wrong with me? I am ashamed I never did it, but I understand why I did not send it at the same time.
I could explain it all away, but it is weak. I like to pretend I couldn't find the right words. I have the card and draft note in my bag. I carried it around every day. Still carry it. Never sent it. Just never reads right.
What if I give her the same willies I was afraid she would give to me??
Sometimes I am so practical it seems heartless. I just think if I were a donor I would analyze the hell out of whatever came my way. I have an amazing talent to find flaws in the flawless, just ask Rocco. I figured since I wouldn't want a donor gift I would not send a donor gift.
I will probably bring a nice little something when we meet in 2029. I think I will be able to find it by then. She has my heart, gratitude and prayers of thanks in the mean time. I think she is spectacular but I never knew how to tell her.
The first time I remember answering this question I ended up feeling pretty stupid with my choice. I said Jane Austen. The person who asked me the question picked Jesus. Jesus. Well, not sure how you beat that one. I think I picked a good one, but you sort of feel like a heel when you don't pick Jesus.
Yeah, I am not putting my donor on par with Jesus - but I wouldn't pick her for dinner either.
Melissa? This one is for you.
I had a heart squishy post a while back about how much I love donor eggs. Melissa asked questions about choosing a donor and defining the relationship. I am amazed someone succeeded in finding something I don't talk about here. I like to get all my donor thoughts down on paper so I can refer to them later.
It was important to me to find a donor who would allow our child(ren) to meet her when they reached the age of 18. It makes my hands a little sweaty to think about it. Absurd, really, but I bet when it happens it will be a time where I put on a Brave Face for DE child and inside I am scared skinless. But who knows. Maybe by then I will be so damn old that wisdom will have taken residence in my heart.
The option to meet the donor was not part of the standard contract. Our lawyers worked with donor's lawyers to discuss the idea. This is how the communication works. Everything is routed through the lawyers and agency. Our donor accepted the modification to the contract and proposed a change of her own.
Our donor has 2 (healthy! beautiful!) children of her own. She asked that her children have the right to contact our DE child(ren) upon the age of 18.
This broke my heart wide open. I sat there in the conference room on speakerphone with our lawyer, tears streaming down my face. I could only speak with that thick, teary voice. Of course we would accept the proposed change.
Bam. Any reservations I ever had about DE were put to bed right then and there. Another mother who understands what this is all about. Her biggest concern was her children. Just like me. She and I were both looking out for our little loved ones. I look forward to the day I meet her and I can tell her how much peace her request gave to me.
She offered another connection. She offered to meet Rocco and I before the contracts were signed. I said no thank you, dinner with Jane please.
I don't know why. I don't think about it much anymore. I believe I was terrified she might do or say something that didn't match the dreams in my heart and head. Shallow much, Roccie? I know.
I am also ashamed I never gave The Donor Gift. Oh, the process that many recipients travel through to find Just the Right Gift. I could never relate.
I never sent one. I never sent a card. What the fuck is wrong with me? I am ashamed I never did it, but I understand why I did not send it at the same time.
I could explain it all away, but it is weak. I like to pretend I couldn't find the right words. I have the card and draft note in my bag. I carried it around every day. Still carry it. Never sent it. Just never reads right.
What if I give her the same willies I was afraid she would give to me??
Sometimes I am so practical it seems heartless. I just think if I were a donor I would analyze the hell out of whatever came my way. I have an amazing talent to find flaws in the flawless, just ask Rocco. I figured since I wouldn't want a donor gift I would not send a donor gift.
I will probably bring a nice little something when we meet in 2029. I think I will be able to find it by then. She has my heart, gratitude and prayers of thanks in the mean time. I think she is spectacular but I never knew how to tell her.
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