I was looking through my blog this week and realized that the post
I made about our first IVF consultation with the fertility clinic was on May
22, 2017. I would say it seems serendipitous that exactly one year later I
would give birth to Jackson.
I remember walking into the clinic that day and wondering how if
and how our lives would change after our consultation that day.
Yesterday, I looked back through my Facebook memories and saw this
picture posted.
Yes, that’s me.
Yes, I’m clutching the cat for dear life* and am somewhere between
sobbing and laughing.
*Josie was actually purring like a motorboat. No kitties were harmed in the taking of this
photo. Though I can neither confirm nor deny that she may have been used as an
impromptu Kleenex.
This picture was taken about five minutes after I heard the words
that changed my life forever:
“you’re pregnant.”
I came home from work,
shaking like a leaf, already in tears. I insisted the clinic call Steve, not
me. I did not think I could handle the news whatever it was.
I remember walking up our front steps, practically numb.
I got to Steve and I can’t even remember what I said – something along the lines
of “promise me no matter what we will be okay.”
“you’re pregnant.”
I remember that feeling of uncontrollable joy and wonder and amazement.
(NSFW here, but I actually screamed “shut the FUCK UP” in his face
as soon as he said it)
I remember grabbing Steve around the neck and the moment we both
locked eyes, tears for both of us.
I remember rushing to grab one of my many pregnancy tests. I had to
see those lines. I had to see them all – the YES, the PREGNANT, the two little lines. (Yes, I took about
six tests)
I'm trying to remember the before me. But I can't.
I view my life in before/after now. Before Jackson and After
Jackson. Before Infertility and After Infertility. Before Law School and After,
and so forth and so on.
Before those words, I could have told you who I was and what I was
going to be – I was a badass in-court lawyer, I was a nail art aficionado,
gourmet bread baker. I was going to keep practicing law full time and raise my
child.
Right now? I do estate planning here and there and Jackson goes
with me.
More often than not, my nails are bare, bitten, and probably
stained by something Jackson has eaten that day.
There is store bought bread in my cupboard.
I don't know how to balance the feelings of the desperate infertile with the terrified mother.
It’s a struggle these days for me to find the me that is here now.
I have all these titles – wife, mother, lawyer, feminist, bleeding heart, dreamer. But it’s
hard for me to say which one of them is looking back at me.
“In the evening when you see my eyes
Looking back at you, no disguise
I’m not sure who you think you’ll see
I’m just hoping you’ll still know that it’s me. “
Jackson Browne, Call it a Loan.
I don’t know who I think I see.
But I’m starting to realize that it is still me. I am all of
those things. I am none of those things.
And that’s okay.
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If you are suffering
from feelings of inadequacy, failure, or are having trouble bonding with
your baby, please know you are not alone.
It is not your fault.
There is help.
Please reach out.
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