16 August, 2010

three years

i realized last night that i'm not quite sure how i have anything left to give of myself. it was three years ago last month that your dad and i started trying to become parents. it took us three months to conceive your brother. i was pregnant for five months. they were an easy and exciting five months, for the most part.

but ever since coooper's birth and death, my life has been a non-stop expulsion of energy. i've been spending my energy for two and a half years.

just after cooper was born, i spent months trying to figure out what caused his prematurity. i read. i googled. i went for acupuncture. ayurveda. workshops. journaling. grief support group. i spent all of my energy trying to find out the cause. and to be ok with the result.

then there was the infertility, which overlapped with the previous spending. blood drawn. tests. meditation. yoga. ultrasounds. shots, pills, suppositories. planned sex. chinese herbal teas.

all of this time obsessing about every little thing that crossed my lips.

then, ivf. more shots and suppositories. and ultrasounds. and bloodwork. egg retrieval surgery.

and then there was you.

my pregnancy was wonderful. i loved carrying you in my belly. but i was stressed. i ate obsessively, drank water obsessively. acupuncture appointments. more disgusting herbal teas. ultrasounds. worry. little sleep. herbal supplements.vitamin supplements. what can i eat safely? what should i eat for your benefit? will i lose you, too?

then there was the low-lying placenta. avoiding certain yoga poses.

then you were breech. seven weeks of trying to help you turn. i tried everything (i listed the long list on an earlier post, so we don't need to revisit that). so let's just say that everything i did or thought was about turning you. for seven long weeks.

and then there was the cesarean. and the healing. physical, not mental, because that hasn't happened yet. that is a whole post of it's own. i will brave that one soon. i hope.

then the breastfeeding. that took a good three months to get down. oh, and you cried a lot, too. so every second was spent either bouncing or walking or nursing. and i cried a lot.

and now you are you. you are my baby. and i am your mom. your attached mom. super attached. i have you with me nearly every second of every day. and i love it. i would not have it any other way. all of my energy goes to you.

it leads me to wonder how i have anything left. (i do.)
and it makes me wonder how anyone can expect me to. (they do.)

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