I realize I've spent the entirety of this blog talking about what we so desperately want, another baby. But I want to take a moment to celebrate what we are so lucky to already have, our son, Lloyd.
Before Lloyd, I would cry at the sight of a pregnant lady. I would cry if I heard a baby laugh. I would cry each month when I read "negative" on the pregnancy test. I cried tears of joy when we first found out we were pregnant after years of trying, and cried in despair when we lost that baby 10 weeks later. I cried when we decided to buy one round of IVF instead of using it as a down payment on a house. I even cried once when a pizza was delivered and they forgot to bring the ranch dressing. Basically, I cried a lot. And that's okay.
But this time around, it's different. When I see a pregnant lady now, I feel empathy for her having to waddle around when it's 100+ degrees out. I think back fondly to maternity jeans and look forward to the time I will get to wear pants with an elastic waistband again. I feel joy for that pregnant woman and the adventure she is about to embark upon. And if she has a toddler in tow, I say a little prayer for her - cause this shit is hard. And as much as I want another child, I'm still not quite sure how people do it.
My son is our miracle baby. Out of all the uteruses in all the world, he walked in to mine. Well, technically, he was thrust into mine with a long plastic catheter tube as an Asian woman stood above me, exclaiming "Sarah Krieg, Blastocysts 4 and 6." It wasn't as romantic as it sounds. Still, after all the drugs and pokes, prods and Pitri dishes, he decided to stay. And Dan and I are forever grateful for that.
It's sometimes difficult to remain grateful when, as I type this, my son who is supposed to be napping, is instead screaming "Poop Mama. POOOOOPPPP" from his bedroom. He is the little boy who cries "Poop" because he knows this means I will come in to change him. But the second I enter the room, he turns on all his boyish charm. He showers me with kisses, plays with my hair, offers me a backrub. Anything to get me to stay. By the way, of all the diapers I've checked at naptime, he has never had a dirty one. It's a tactic, and a damn good one.
This kid. We love this kid.
Yesterday while holding hands as we walked through a park, he pulled his hand away and said "uh oh Mommy, boo boo." As I looked down to where he was pointing, I saw the yellow jacket fall from his arm. The sting was already beginning to swell. Lloyd didn't shed a tear. He just looked at me and said, "Boo boo buddy please.”
For comparison, I cried when I stepped on a Lego this morning.
Sure, there are days I go without showering and week(s) I go without washing my hair. I'm the last to sit down to the dinner table and the first to get up. Even today, I was in such a rush to get dressed that I didn't realize that I had grabbed an old worn-out pair of maternity underwear from the drawer, put them on and threw on a dress. Later, walking the aisles of Target, toddler free (a major mommy treat!), my knickers literally slid off my ass, down my thighs and ended up around my ankles. I rushed to step out of them and throw them in the nearest trash can.
And then I giggled as I wandered down the home aisle, commando, feeling equal parts embarrassed and free, wondering who saw that on the security video.
Speaking of video, one of the many joys of motherhood is sharing your passions with your child. It just so happens my kid is a big fan of belting out show tunes, as is his mama. So, without further ado, I give you our first-ever Mother/Son duet. And yes, we did make a music video – “Let it Go.”
So that right there. That is why we want this so bad. We've done it before and we are damned and determined to do this again.
If after watching that, if you feel moved to "let go" of a few extra bucks, feel free to donate to our cause or share our story. And as always, thanks for the love!
PS- To be fair. I just checked on Lloyd (’cause I'm a sucker), who was still screaming "poop." And guess what? He had, in fact, pooped.