Today is the one-year anniversary of my embryo transfer. Rich and I have been talking a lot lately about the place we were in at this time last year. It wasn't a place I want to remember.
When you're an infertile, you of course see children and pregnant bellies everywhere. It feels like God is purposefully kicking you in the teeth, day after day, by placing that pregnant mother with her two toddlers ahead of you in line at the store, or by sending you baby shower invitations for women you hardly even know. But around the holidays, the kid influx literally is everywhere. It's on your tv. It's all over the mall. It's in everything you see. And read. And hear. The holidays are about children. And you? Well, you don't have any. And you can't have any either. I haven't forgotten that feeling.
While I was going through my IVF cycle this time last year, I wasn't hopeful. Not in the least. Ask anyone I was talking to at that time and they'll tell you I fully expected it to fail. I defined negative thinking. And while I tried to remain as distracted as possible while I waited for the results for that painful two weeks following my transfer, I wasn't. I cried. I retreated into a black hole. I avoided anything and anyone that had anything at all to do with children. I wasn't pleasant to be around.
What a difference a year makes.
My IVF cycle worked. It was a Christmas miracle, and as hokey and as corny as that sounds, yes, I believe it. And this year when I trim my tree, and unwrap the ornament that Dawn sent me last year shortly after I announced my news here, I'll have my three-month old "bun" by my side. I'll experience Christmas through her eyes this year. And next year. And the year after that.
To say that I feel blessed doesn't quite cover it.
When you're an infertile, you of course see children and pregnant bellies everywhere. It feels like God is purposefully kicking you in the teeth, day after day, by placing that pregnant mother with her two toddlers ahead of you in line at the store, or by sending you baby shower invitations for women you hardly even know. But around the holidays, the kid influx literally is everywhere. It's on your tv. It's all over the mall. It's in everything you see. And read. And hear. The holidays are about children. And you? Well, you don't have any. And you can't have any either. I haven't forgotten that feeling.
While I was going through my IVF cycle this time last year, I wasn't hopeful. Not in the least. Ask anyone I was talking to at that time and they'll tell you I fully expected it to fail. I defined negative thinking. And while I tried to remain as distracted as possible while I waited for the results for that painful two weeks following my transfer, I wasn't. I cried. I retreated into a black hole. I avoided anything and anyone that had anything at all to do with children. I wasn't pleasant to be around.
What a difference a year makes.
My IVF cycle worked. It was a Christmas miracle, and as hokey and as corny as that sounds, yes, I believe it. And this year when I trim my tree, and unwrap the ornament that Dawn sent me last year shortly after I announced my news here, I'll have my three-month old "bun" by my side. I'll experience Christmas through her eyes this year. And next year. And the year after that.
To say that I feel blessed doesn't quite cover it.
How amazing and what a year. 2006 DID bring a miracle, just like you said you hoped on New Year's last year.
You and Rich are the sweetest and most fantastic parents ever. Isabella is a lucky girl.
(And also, geez I've been reading this blog forever. Craziness, it's been over a year.)
It's funny you posted this. I just posted on my bog because today is the one year anniversary of me starting my blog...and I said the exact same thing- what a difference a year makes.
Yes what a difference a year makes. I am very glad that you got your miracle for Christmas, I can't think of a better Christmas gift.
Last year was the perfect Christmas miracle, and this year, the perfect baby under the tree! :)
And maybe this year when I stay at your house you'll give me regular coffee instead of the covertly disguised decaf of last year. No more "my xmas with a secret", yes? ;-)
Thats awesome. Its fantastic you have a little "bun" now to cuddle and hold as a Christmas gift.
Congratulations on reaching this sweet anniversary. What a wonderful Christmas miracle indeed!
Thanks, all. I really appreciate your sweet words!
I'm so glad you get to enjoy this Christmas without all the fretting and the secrets. And I can't wait to see more funny pics of Isabella, replete in holiday wear.