Unconditional Love

Every so often I've met a woman who expresses a desire to have a baby because the child will give her 'unconditional love.' This strikes me as wrong in several ways. First, if you want something to love you unconditionally, get a puppy. I've heard tales of way too many toddlers breaking their moms' hearts by declaring that they don't love mom! Dogs: not going to have that problem!

Second, I believe that every child deserves to be loved unconditionally by his or her parents. I know the world doesn't work that way, but I'd like it to, anyhow. As for the child, he or she can feel whatever they want in return.

I grew up with the strong belief that my parents only loved me conditionally. As far back as I can recall, I've known they did not want kids. They didn't even like kids. I was definitely not the exception. Whether intentional, unintentional, inaccurate, or accurate, throughout my childhood I felt that their love only came from meeting certain conditions: perfect grades, perfect behavior, being the child that best matched their wants. Alas, knowing that no child could match their wants made that an impossible task.

I was extremely fortunate because my grandparents retired and cared for me. They gave me all the unconditional love a child could hope for. I am so grateful to them for their presence in my life. . . and I'm also grateful to my parents for all the positive things they gave me that don't fit into this post.

Now, unconditional love isn't the same as unconditional support. If T turns out to be an axe-murderer, or A a Trump supporter, I'll still love them both, but I won't support their decisions. Maybe that's some sort of false dichotomy, but it feels fair to me.

When I look at A and T, I hope they'll know and feel my unconditional love as far back as they can recall. As for how they feel about me, well, my mother in law snapped the photo below of me holding Tess. Given the look on her face, maybe, just maybe, I'm getting a bit of unconditional love in return right now.

Then and Now

As the weeks pass with A and T, I'm struck by some of the differences in how I think now versus how I've thought and what I've experienced with past pregnancies. It's been interesting to me to observe the positives and the negatives, the similarities and the differences.

Overall, I'm grateful that my history isn't getting in the way of enjoying every moment with the babies, although it appears to have impacted my view of the future. Perhaps that's a good thing. I've spent so much of my life living for the future (e.g., "when I finish grad school, I'll . . ..", "when I get a promotion, I'll. . .", "when I have a living child, I'll. . ."). Maybe the true positive to come from all the pain and loss is that the now takes priority over the 'when', and is celebrated and savored in its own right.

What's Changed?

After giving birth to Alexis, Zoe, and Quinn, I'd wake up in the morning and after a split second be slammed by the painful realization that they were gone. It hurt, and it would be weeks before each wakening wasn't accompanied by that realization and pain. I hoped for a future 'when' it wouldn't hurt so much.

After giving birth to A and T, I'm slammed by the alarm waking me up to pump after no more than 2 hours of sleep. The middle of the night wakings are painful because I'm so tired, but the instant memory of why I'm doing this -the now that is A and T - makes it worthwhile.

When pregnant with Alexis, Zoe, and Quinn, I often thought about their future and what I wanted for them. I imagined family traditions and activities we'd engage in as they grew older. I looked forward to creating so many memories with them.

With A and T, I've found myself consciously cutting myself off when I think of plans for more than the immediate future. For example, when looking at the fire pit in our yard, I thought for a moment of the fun they might have hosting parties with their friends as teens, but then I forced myself to stop dreaming that far out. I know the reaction is the result of so much pain due to lost future dreams, and while there's no reason to think we won't have a long future with A and T, apparently my brain isn't ready to let me move that far ahead.

What's the Same?
With Alexis and Zoe's pregnancy, from the moment I knew they were healthy girls, despite the morning sickness, I enjoyed everything. With Quinn, I loved every moment of movement, every ultrasound.

With A and T, I'm enjoying every moment, every milestone. Last week the babies started 'talking' and I'm almost awestruck talking back to them and enjoying it all. Tess is smiling like crazy and I'll do just about anything to get to enjoy one of those smiles. Aaron started grinning this week, just after his sister. I enjoy every second. They've both found their hands in the last two weeks, and I am endlessly enraptured by watching them suck their thumbs or lick their fists. It's amazing and wonderful.

Hysteroscopy #8

Yesterday was hysteroscopy number 8. This was the 'third strike and you're (uterus is) out!' hysteroscopy. My OB just called to report that there were lots of calcifications and other 'crud' in my uterus. She can still see the holes from the clerclage, which I guess aren't healing well. Further, the pathology continues to show infection.

So I do another round of clindamaycin. Followed by a SIS and biopsy. And then we talk about next steps.

I got off the phone and snuggled babies, because, really, what else can you do after a call like that? Fortunately, these two make it so worthwhile!

A, being entirely adorable and happy.

T, making faces

AYFKM?!?

This has been a week of "are you effing kidding me?", but today sealed the deal. Warning, complaining ahead!

People say having kids is expensive. I hadn't quite realized the breadth of those expenses! The day we brought A home, our central heat died. In Minnesota. Two days before a snow storm.

The day we brought Tess home, our fridge died. With all my frozen breast milk inside.

After that, we looked hard at our infrastructure and decided that our decrepit washer and dryer should be replaced before they left us stranded and desperate with baby laundry. So we bought a fancy new set. Delivered Saturday before last. Would you like to guess what died yesterday? The dryer. The brand new dryer. Repair people will be out for their earliest appointment, next week. AYFKM?

Today was my hysteroscopy follow up. We did an ultrasound to check IUD placement. Result? There is STILL RPOC in my uterus AND my IUD has migrated and lodged in my cervix. AYFKM?

OB gave me four options, ranging from " do nothing and hope no infection sets in"  to "hysterectomy." Well, fuck. We're taking the middle approach of removing the IUD and doing another hysteroscopy to clear the RPOC. If this one still doesn't work, we'll talk hysterectomy.

I'm really ready for some good news. Please share your happy thoughts with me as I could certainly use them!

Microblog Monday: Something Ugly

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I've tried to be honest in this blog, even about ugly subjects. I feel the need to address one of the ugliest: gender disappointment. I was open during Alexis and Zoe's pregnancy that I preferred girls, and part of my unmitigated joy during their pregnancy was because they were both female.

When I got pregnant with Quinn, I spent the first 12 weeks convinced I was having a boy. There was a constant,  almost physically painful disappointment associated. I felt gutted that I'd gone from a pregnancy that was everything I could have dreamed of - twin girls - to something less - a single boy. Finding out Quinn was a girl brought the most amazing relief and joy. I sobbed sharing the news with family.

Oddly enough, this pregnancy I didn't feel the same level of worry about the babies' sexes. I had a preference for girls, but there wasn't the almost physical need to have two girls that I'd felt with Quinn. Likewise, there wasn't the deep preference I'd felt with Alexis and Zoe. I have no idea what changed, but something did.

The only time I felt really upset about the babies' sexes was when people would comment on how great it would be to "have one of each." I always wanted to respond that it would have been even greater to have the two girls we initially expected and wanted.

Now that the babies are here, there is zero disappointment. Zero regret about having "one of each" rather than two girls. While I can remember how many emotions related to my pregnancies felt, I can't even bring back the feeling of wanting only girls. I can bring back the fear from past pregnancies. I can bring back the grief over loss and NICU time. I can bring back the uncertainty if I'd ever get pregnant, or the anger over DH's SCSA results. I can't bring back anything related to gender disappointment. My family feels absolutely perfect the way it is.

Sometimes things go horribly wrong and work out in ways that are unexpectedly heart wrenching. I think I had forgotten that sometimes they go right and work out in ways that are unexpectedly heartwarming. I am thrilled that the babies I've got fall under the later category.

Remembrance

Earlier today, DH and I attended the Day of Pediatric Remembrance at the U of M's Masonic Children's Hospital. It's an event held for the families of children treated at the U of M who have passed in recent years. We were invited because that's where Quinn was born. When I RSVP'd, I also mentioned we needed to recognize Alexis and Zoe, and they were included in the program.

Let's just say that the day gave me all the feels.

We saw the social worker and chaplain that we knew from both our recent hospitalizations and from our time with Quinn. They both asked about A & T, and both told us that as soon as they saw my  name on the roster at Southdale, they checked in with Dr. Y to see what my status was. After the service was over they asked to see pictures of A & T. They recognized both the pain of our loss and the joy of A & T in a meaningful way. I was beyond touched, and so, so happy to see these two amazing women again.

It also felt wonderful to honor Alexis, Zoe, and Quinn. The last 14 weeks have been so focused on A & T that I was glad to spend some time on our other girls.

The rest. . . the rest was hard. Grief feels so isolating, so lonely. While DH has been amazing, and I've met other incredible loss moms who inspire me, I've often felt alone in my pain. During the program, each family shared a photo of their child. They ranged from NICU babies to late teens. Every one was absolutely beautiful and full of life in their photos. Being there with other families, seeing photos of their children reminded me of how much company we have. We are clearly not alone. That was both comforting and deeply heartbreaking as we stared at those photos of precious children who are no longer here.

How I wish we lived in a world where a day like this was unnecessary. However I'm very grateful to the U of M team for making this happen in the reality we do live in.

Forgiveness After Loss

I mentioned struggling emotionally while in the NICU. That's not the only way I've struggled. Life after loss is complex. There are so many conflicting emotions. My biggest struggle is how to look at past versus present.

I look at A and T and I love them so much. I can't imagine not having them in my life, getting to see them become the people they are going to be. I am so utterly grateful to get this chance. And yet, if Alexis and Zoe, or Quinn had survived, A and T would never have been born. So being completely grateful for them leaves me feeling disloyal to their big sisters.

At the same time, I can't bring myself to wish that A & T weren't here, because they are and I love them more than anything. It feels that no matter how I look at things, I'm being hurtful to some of my children: either Alexis, Zoe, and Quinn if I'm unreservedly happy about A and T, or to A and T if I feel sadness that I'm not getting to experience raising their big sisters.

I know this is all guilt I'm foisting upon myself, but I don't have a resolution for it. Maybe I don't need one, either. Maybe the reality is that life after loss is complex, and emotions are complex, and it's ok to feel what you feel. Maybe someday I'll believe that enough to forgive myself for those feelings.