Today I saw on Facebook that a friend of my husband had a baby. I actually fought back tears reading the news. Years ago, before I even started trying, his wife confided in me that they were having trouble getting pregnant. It took them nine years to get their baby. Nine years.
I feel my life was changed for the year and a half we struggled to keep a pregnancy. The disappointment, the feeling that it will never happen for us, the pangs when it happened for other people, the tests, the doctor appointments, the rise and fall of testing every month.
I want her to know that all she has been through will one day be something she will be thankful for having endured, because it all led to their beautiful baby girl.
I thought about how I felt when I first brought home Evan, rocking him in his glider at night. I used to think that no baby could ever be more loved or more wanted. But then life happens. Cuddly babies turn to obstinate toddlers, and hard core negotiators. And somehow, that feeling of immense gratitude that glided me though colic, teething, and sleepless nights dissipated. So today, when I saw our old friend's news, I felt the yin and yang of parenthood. Babies are miracles, the greatest gift you could ever dream of- not a guaranteed rite of passage. And babies are hard. Toddlers are harder and if I don't stop and give myself one of those time outs I am always threatening, I will lose sight of how lucky I am to be fighting over bedtimes and sweeping the floor around my 1 year old's chair four times a day. I could just get a Roomba.
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