Good news, friends! I got word a couple weeks ago that this post will be published on Scary Mommy on April 30th. That’s exciting! As both a mom and a writer, it feels really huge. And also really terrifying. I haven’t talked “publicly” about my miscarriage very much, and though I’m not opposed to it because I think it NEEDS to be talked about, this post kind of puts my heart out there in the biggest way. Yikes!
Being published on Scary Mommy is terrifying in another way, too. I write anonymously on this blog (for the most part). I will be published on Scary Mommy with my real name and have requested that there be no mention of my blog. As far as I know, there won’t be. But my question to all of you is, should I password-protect the most personal posts on this blog, just in case?
I really don’t care if anyone knows about my infertility journey or reads about my CM and vajayjay or whatnot. I’m an open book when it comes to that! But should I protect the posts that mention friends and family? I’m particularly thinking of some posts that involve my sister and former friends Lillian and Kat. (Long-time readers of this blog will probably know what I’m talking about. For those who do not, you can click on “my sis” and “friends” in the word cloud on the right to get an idea of what I mean.) I did a lot of whining…complaining…bitching. I had a lot of hurt feelings and I poured it out here. I’m not proud of a lot of it. But do I need to protect these posts? While I think my feelings are valid and mostly understandable, I don’t want to hurt, embarrass, or shame anyone unnecessarily. What is the likelihood of someone stumbling across this blog by reading my piece on Scary Mommy, given that there should be no mention of Waiting to Expand there? Am I just being paranoid? My husband thinks there is merit in keeping this blog fully public and says I shouldn’t waste my time because it’s doubtful anyone will find their way here anyways. I’m undecided. Does anyone have an opinion about this? Thoughts? I want to hear what YOU think!
Yesterday, we invited two old friends of mine into our home for a few hours. And by “old,” I mean that, with the exception of my cousins, these are my very oldest friends. I’ve known them most of my life. That said, I haven’t seen them in twenty years and we’ve kept in touch mostly through the magic of Facebook, which basically means not at all. I’m a naturally shy and reserved person and felt a mix of fear, nerves, anxiety, and sheer dread as I awaited the arrival of, essentially, two people (and their spouses) who were now strangers to me. And so it was a relief to realize that somehow knowing someone in your earliest, most innocent and precious years connects you for life. There was no awkwardness or discomfort; we talked for nearly four hours straight and could have kept going, if it were not for the bedtimes of my children.
As they walked out our front door to return to their hotel, it occurred to me that, had I not moved hours away from them before the start of middle school, we probably would have remained dear friends for all of my life. It’s a little sad to think what I may have missed out on.
Do you keep in touch with your childhood friends? Are you still close to them now?
Friends, I try to never let more than a week or two go by without checking in here, but I’m finding that’s getting harder and harder. I’m busier these days and also, apparently, I’m running out of things to say. Poppy did just turn six months, though, and as soon as I get his 6-month photos back, I’ll do a post to update you all about our insanely sweet, social, smiley, and silly baby boy.
Today, though, I wanted to share a comparison photo of our three little ones. I posted this on Facebook and thought it would be fun to do the same here:
That’s Cupcake on the left in 2011, Skittle in the middle in 2014, and Poppy on the right just a couple weeks ago, all of them taken around the age of six months. See the resemblance?? I’ve always thought Poppy looks more like Cupcake did as a babe, but in this side-by-side, I feel he looks more like Skittle. And, at the same time, has his own unique look.
What do you think? And for those of you who have more than one child, did your babies look alike in infancy? Do they resemble each other now?
Six years ago today was a very dark day. We had been struggling to conceive our first child for well over a year. I had just learned that a close, childhood friend had given birth to her son just days before. I was about to take a pregnancy test that I knew would be negative. And it was time to finally accept that the Clomid wasn’t working and we needed to try something else.
I didn’t know then what was in store. I couldn’t have know then, on that dark, lonely day, that I would give birth three times in the next six years. I was sad and scared, desperate and distraught. And yet, everything was about to change. Because six years ago tomorrow, I would get a positive pregnancy test. My very first. For the first time in forever, I would see two lines on that pee stick instead of one. What a glorious moment.
Tomorrow is the anniversary of a day of celebration. A celebration of so much hope, anticipation, and joy. But today? Today, I remember what it was like before. Before this all began. The heavy heart. The quiet house.
Six years ago today, I was in so much pain. I will never forget that.
On Saturday, our family of five drove three hours one way for my niece’s birthday party. Cah-razy. But it was a fun event at a cool pizza parlor that had bumper cars, a bouncy house, a ginormous play structure (I can’t even adequately describe to you how BIG it was or how HIGH those slides were) and a small corner filled with a bunch of toys for the littlest ones.
My two-year-old, however, wanted nothing to do with that corner and, instead, really, really wanted to play on that play structure that was “recommended” for four and up. And at the same time, there were so many big kids there and it was such a confusing maze inside, she was scared to go alone. So we asked her five-year-old sister if she might be willing to take Skittle along with her and wouldn’t you know it, she said yes with such gusto, that alone was shocking as she is the type of kid who typically says no to any request we make on principal alone, I think.
And then we watched as those two sisters spent the next two hours climbing up and sliding down that play structure together, working as a team to help little Skittle get from one tall platform to the next (Cupcake would go first and then slide her arms under Skittle’s armpits and pull her up), relying on one another to find their way through the maze of colorful steel pipes, trusting each other totally. It brought tears to my eyes to see and made every squabble over who would hold my left hand and which DVD we would watch on the drive home worth it. For those two hours, they were sisters, partners, and best friends. It was the most beautiful thing.
It was this day, ten years ago, that my husband and I went on our first date. We shared two classes that semester, my final one, at college and he chased me down after History & Structure of the English Language to ask me to Starbucks. I was not looking for love — and in fact, was actively trying to avoid it — and had spent nearly every day for the last two weeks (or more?), attempting to find alternative ways to walk to/from class so that I wouldn’t have to talk to him, who was nothing if not blatantly obvious in his intentions. But he was bold and he was persistent and I was too nice to say no, so I obliged. And the rest, as they say, is history.
It’s been quite a decade. We have gotten engaged, gotten married, adopted a dog, suffered through months of infertility treatments, moved to another state, bought a house, brought three new lives into the world, and said good-bye to a tiny embryo that never got the chance to live. We have traveled to Alaska, Hawaii, Oregon, California, London, and Australia. We have graduated college, ended old friendships, began new ones, lived through week-long power outages, told my mother about the abuse I suffered as a child, paid off our student loans, quit jobs and started new ones (many, many new ones), and purchased two new vehicles.
I’m thankful for it all, the good and bad and most of all that my husband saw my value and worth — my potential — all those years ago, long before I ever saw it myself.