Life through stroller eyes

Never before walking the streets of my beloved city did I notice the frenzy. I always felt invigorated and stimulated by the hustle and bustle and rush of energy out on the streets. The noises, tastes, smells and people are the life blood of Manhattan.

Now strolling around with a baby you notice a whole new world of dangers. Will we make it over those pot holes and cracks? Does everyone really need to smoke on the streets? Do you really have to scream on your cell phone? Can you not blast your horn right next to me?

Perhaps a little over protective of my 2 month old, but I am navigating the world with this tiny baby that I have to keep alive and not damage. I am sure my heightened ear capacity has something to do with my over sensitized brain right now. I hear every peep, cry, eek, gurgle this baby makes, even when I am deep in slumber. But that's what seems to be happening as you become a unit with your kid. They are an extension of you.They go everywhere you go. They are your side kick until they don't want to be anymore. I am certainly a test study that genetics have nothing to do with this.

So I have become that mother with the stroller who is stopping up traffic on the sidewalk, bumping through chairs and tables at restaurants, crowding a bathroom to change a diaper, and scowling at those predators who threaten her young. This was a person I once despised. The amount of rage I had seeing a stroller is immeasurable. As I might have suspected, have I joined "the club?" I now smile knowingly at other parents. I chuckle at other crying babies and rambunctious toddlers. I exchange ages, names, and stroller preference with women in bathrooms. Jesus.

When I think about what I can write these days, it's precisely things I was never interested in reading. So my apologies to fellow infertiles still in the trenches trying. I hope you still visit me. For other mothers, I hope that we learn to love our mothering experience despite all our infertility baggage. It's a challenge but I try to remember I had to dig really deep into my soul to invite this baby into my life. My choices were hard and I still sometimes yearn for the biological child I tried so hard to have. But this doesn't make me less of a mother. Already my world is changing in the most subtle of ways, even down to how I walk the streets of my home.

To work or not to work.

I have heard it all before. Can you have it all? The age old dilemma for women after having children is that internal debate to either stay at home or be out in the work force. Sometimes you don't have a choice. Sometimes you do. But either way, it's not easy.

For years infertility stole any impulse for my career. I would turn down jobs because of IVF. I would take a project but wished I didn't have to work and could just have a family. I put off taking a heavy stressful full-time job thinking I can't get maternity leave after just starting a new job. In the midst of all the shots, doctor appointments, and pregnancy losses, I lost sight of what my career was going to be. It wasn't my priority.

Now after 2 weeks of working on a freelance project, I am beginning to think about how I can balance motherhood and work. I keep hearing how there is this divide among mothers - those who work and those who do not. There are judgements and insecurities about both decisions. I hear complaints about women who can't imagine not staying at home and providing made-from-scratch everything for their child. Others take offense to working mothers who condescend to stay-at-home-moms.

I have decided to remain Switzerland on this subject. I have yet to enter into the larger mommy world because we are still staying at my parent's house and our baby is so young for it to be relevant. Isn't it just important to do what makes you happy? Maybe there is too much gray in that idea, which is ultimately why maybe women never quite feel satisfied with these options. It's not just about my happiness now, it's about my daughter and my husband too. Before it was expected that women stay at home. Then it was expected that you work too. Now it seems really up to you which way to go. The judgements and subtle jabs that women give each other only really come from a feeling of not being able to do it all. When you are at home all the time you might feel like your career is slipping away. When you are working you might feel you are missing precious moments with your baby. No win situation.

My plan is to find as many cool parents who are chilled out and open-minded. There are parents who judge or compete or preach or brag or compare children. These types of people just make you feel bad, so I plan to stay away from these parents as best I can. The last thing I want is to question myself, especially with all my infertility baggage. With so many levels of concerns about your baby - a) keeping them alive b) making sure they develop healthy and strong c) nurturing them for the person they will grow to become, you just have to do what feels right to you.

So my newest challenge is riding the roller coaster of making decisions about my career while trying to be the best mom I can. Again, better than the roller coaster ride of IVF. Luckily, part of what infertility has taught me is to tune out the noise. It has taught me well that the definition of motherhood is an infinite amount of things.

My tribe is all around me

Like I have said before, I wish there was a secret handshake for infertiles. Just some way of knowing we belong to the same tribe. But funnily, as I dawn the cap of donor egg mother via gestational carrier (quite a mouthful), I have unexpectedly run into tribe members all around me.

The day that A. had her final OBGYN checkup that sparked her delivery, one of the nurses in the office came up to me and said, "I was a surrogate for twins." We shared experiences and she wished us luck.

At the hospital where we delivered, the nurse who checked me in and did all the administrative paper work welcomed me and immediately told me she had done several IVFs and then adopted. It was an immediate comfort zone in the midst of this crazy anticipation for delivery. An angel in disguise, she stayed with me, shared her story, showed me a picture of her son, and even the next day brought Mira a present. She said to me, "I know how long this journey is and what this means so I wanted to give you a present." Unbelievable kindness.

When we took Mira to her first pediatrician appointment, the nurse who took all her vitals and did the PKU test told me she used traditional surrogacy for both of her children. "I am the adopted mother and the birth mother is called 'Poo.'" Once again, blown away that someone so random could understand our experience.

Finally, a last minute work project came up and I needed to get a baby sitter quick. We found a great young woman who just graduated from college. As I sat with her one day, she out of no where told me she was adopted and her parents brought her home when she was 5 days old. I shared with her that our baby was carried by a surrogate.

So maybe there is some crazy energy we all put out there that draws us together. Our tribe is unknown most of the time, often criticized and judged, sometimes pitied, all of which makes us very private. But I love, despite all that, that we find each other.

One month of motherhood

Today Mira is one month old and I see now why everyone says it's all a blur in the beginning. In some ways it seems like eons since she was born and other ways it feels like it just happened last week. Time is moving in its usual stealth way. I suppose that's what it's always going to be like as we watch our kids grow.

The one thing I can say for sure is all the horror stories of infant care are just "horror" in the fictional sense. As I suspected, infertility is way more of a horror show than any crying, pooping, and lack of sleep. Not to say this is all so easy but in no way is it as bad or as crazy as I was warned. Perhaps I will feel differently in a few months, but for now I keep feeling like the luckiest person.

When I think of how many steps and how many people it took to make our baby, I feel more certain that she should be very proud of her birth story. When your child is born via surrogacy or donor, we as parents ponder a lot about if, when, and how we will tell them. I have had my share of panic attacks about how am I going to tell her. How many "nice ladies" do I have to explain to her for Christ's sake? But as I see her thriving and growing, I think more than ever that her birth story will instill strength, not shame or alienation. I hope as a young adult and eventually as a grown woman she will carry that with her. We can truly tell her she was a miracle and that sometimes the more complicated the recipe the more delicious the result.

The promised land

I've been looking for a time to sit down quietly to ponder and write about this amazing ride, but as one would expect, a baby takes up a lot of time. How do I even begin?

I suppose I should start by doing a little rewind to 2 weeks ago. When I last posted, I was resigned that A. would not deliver for a while. I settled in with a new knitting project, bought a paint by numbers set, ready to wait another week for our baby to arrive. However, at A.'s next OBGYN appointment, the doc decided to stretch her cervix. Boom, that did it. Suddenly those two weeks of preparing and twiddling my thumbs went out the window. We were told to meet her at the hospital in an hour. In a nutshell, the delivery went incredibly well. A. was amazingly strong and calm and collected. I, on the other hand, felt light headed and was terrified I was going to faint at the sight of blood. I imagined what a complete embarrassment it would be if I passed out before seeing our baby born. My husband had already warned me to repeat our mantra, "K.I.T.!!-- KEEP IT TOGETHER!"

Nothing could have prepared me for the melt down I would have watching our baby born. It was truly incredible. The flow of tears came relentless down my face as I couldn't believe what A. had done for us. I couldn't believe this baby was mine. There are really no words to describe this.  

Now fast forward to day 2 after delivery and the adrenalin and shock finally were subsiding.  I can honestly say that there was a clash of intense emotions. When you have a baby via donor egg, you prepare and prepare and stress and stress over how you are going to feel when you see your baby. I can only describe it for me as a really strange mix of total bliss and deep loss. On the one hand you are gaining this amazing new life, and on the other hand you keep searching for yourself in the baby and know you won't find it. Granted, understand that this is all purely physical. When a baby is born there is not much else you can see about the person besides her physical attributes. So I found myself feeling sad I couldn't find anything physical of myself in her.

Soon this emotional tug of war was interrupted by pure logistics. When doing surrogacy out of state, the baby being born is just the first step in this orchestral feat. Next we have to get the baby home. In this case, my parent's house where we planned to stay for a couple weeks while our apartment gets renovated. As word came in that a huge historic snow storm was about to hit our destination, we had to pull it all together to jump on a plane and get there before we were snowed in. For all the years of fuck-ups, this was pay back time. It all went beautifully smooth -rescheduling the tickets, getting the birth certificate, getting to the airport, flying on the plane, and driving to my parents. We beat the storm, for once. Finally the universe is cooperating.

Now fast forward to today. Our baby girl is two weeks old, and that clash of emotions has been fading. It is so true that once you take care of your child that you begin to see her as her, not all the baggage you have been carrying through years of infertility. I am sure there will be many more bumps in the road because of the fertility choices we've made, but that's the name of the game.

It got me thinking about what this blog will be moving forward. There are plenty of good parenting blogs out there so have to think a little harder about what I want to continue to write about. But there is time. Let's just take it moment by moment. As she naps beside me, I can only think of how exciting it will be to watch her grow. I have reached the promised land.

She's here!

Introducing Mira, born February 2, 2010 - 8lbs 8oz! We are all doing great and just been too crazy to post. Will hopefully be able to post more later this week when I am less in shock! For privacy reasons I am just posting her little foot, but she's 100% cute. Thank you all for waiting so patiently with me. She's finally here.

Day One

Tomorrow is our official due date, but as I said, I think we are going to go past that. The saga continues. If by next week A. has not delivered then her doctor wants to induce. So either way we hopefully will be seeing our baby soon. This will be my last post before the long awaited announcement of the birth of our child. I won't bore you with the uncertain amount of days ahead of me. Just check back for the "baby is born" posting.

But doing this countdown has really let me think carefully about my identity as an infertile and what I can pass on to those just beginning this journey. This whole experience has really changed my life. It's given me a perspective and a certain understanding of myself that I am thankful for. Ultimately, the ability to set yourself free as an infertile person comes down to YOU. That's right, numero uno. Here is my number one all time top way to practice the art of being infertile.

TOP TEN WAYS TO PRACTICE THE ART OF BEING INFERTILE:

10. Arm Yourself with Information, But Accept the Unanswerable.

9. Find Other Infertiles.

8. Tune out the noise.

7. It's okay to be angry.

6. Keep Trying.

5. Fulfill Another Dream.

4. Limbo is your middle name.

3. Remember Love.

2. Protect Yourself.

1. Forgive Yourself.

When I think about how important it is for me, after years of pain, to be the strongest person I can for this little baby, I can say without a doubt that I must forgive myself. As an infertile, we experience a sense of failure like no other. We are brought up believing that as a woman our body's innate role in life is to conceive and bear children. We are suppose to be on autopilot when it comes to this. Even for me, as a woman who firmly believes that our femininity is so much more beyond fertility, I feel a sense of betrayal that I was unable to accomplish this biological role. We try and try and try and we fail and fail and fail. At it's core, we battle feeling like this is all our fault.

But of course this imprisons us, puts a weight on our shoulders that is too heavy to carry for the rest of our lives. This whole top ten list has really culminated to an entire program of reorienting yourself. Not only do we have to keep re-strategizing on how to build our family, we also have to re-strategize how we see ourselves.

It's become clearest to me as I approach actually being a mother. When life extends to another life, whether you biologically created it or sought help to create it, this new life is now your responsibility. One becomes two. Now all the regrets and all this anger and all the self-deprication has to take a step aside for this new person who needs you.

Forgive yourself for the miscarriages. Forgive yourself for the Big Fat Negatives. Forgive yourself for putting your career first. Forgive yourself for getting married later in life. Forgive yourself for not trying earlier. Forgive your uterus. Forgive your fallopian tubes. Forgive your eggs.

Forgive yourself.

Peace out ladies.