I have to apologize for disappearing from the blogosphere again. My computer died, and I’d been unable to check anything blog related for awhile. I just got my new computer, and I’m so ready to start writing again. I feel like my finger tips have been bursting with stunted opportunities to type and get my thoughts down.
I thought I would write about something positive today…a fellow blogger wrote a lovely post about depression while experiencing infertility and the connection to the joy she experiences each day with her little boy. I loved her wording, so I’m going to copy a little of it here:
I did know that we were missing out on the one thing I had always wanted most in my life. I knew we were missing out on an unexplainable joy that I hoped we would realize one day.
It made me think about my own time in the infertility trenches, and the incredible joy that Bean has brought to my life. I also realized how much she has changed, and how she has become really silly in a way that shows how grown up she is. She makes jokes now instead of just being funny by accident.
I don’t know if that statement sounds strange or not, but basically I mean that Bean has reached a point where she no longer just reacts to the world…she makes herself and others laugh on purpose and she does silly things just for the shear fun of it. She will spin around and around and make herself dizzy, all the time with a big smile on her face. She will play peek-a-boo, flashing a mischievous grin and peeking sneakily around the blanket covering her eyes, cause she knows she is going to get me to laugh. She will lay on the floor, put her feet up in the air, dance around like a crazy person, and then burst out in giggles.
Yesterday, after a long and emotionally draining few hours, I rode to pick Bean up from her second day of daycare. I missed her terribly, and couldn’t wait to see her little face. She smiled at me when I walked into the room, and in that moment every bad thought I’d had over the course of the day just melted away. I scooped her up, smothered her in kisses, and listened to her excited babbling about ceilings fans, flowers and babies (all present in the room, and all things that Bean loves).
My life without Bean would make no sense, none at all, and a part of me knew this even before she was born. I mourned it when I was going through infertility…the life I knew I should have had, and the child I knew was waiting for me. I dreamed about her day and night, and I felt her there, so close but just not close enough. Missing her, and wanting her so badly…sometimes I would wake up in tears and panic, having dreamed she was there in my arms but she was suddenly ripped away.
I wasn’t my best self at that time…not by a long shot. As my fellow blogger says in her post:
I was a bad wife during that time, an unfocused employee, and a selfish friend – because my mind was always on our inability to have a baby (even with treatments).
I was the same way, and I understand now that I had every right to be so. I don’t blame myself for reacting the way I did, and I think that forgiving myself for that time has been an important part of recovering and moving on…a process that started the day I became pregnant with Bean.
Just going back to the moments after my my transfer…feelings of peace, love, and happiness were all that filled me. I can remember laying in the recovery room, listening to episodes of “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me,” on my headphones, laughing, caressing my belly, and just feeling completely at peace. My baby was home, and for the first time ever there was a fertilized embryo in my womb. It was pure joy.
Bean came to this world just like that, and she has been that same joy ever since.