Don't Stop Believing

Infertility was so long, so hard. It truly was just a chapter of my life, but man, in the midst of it, it seemed like the sum total of all of my days, as if it would consume everything about me. One of the brightest spots throughout the darkness were the friends I made along the way. So many are special to me. There's a whole list of friends I'd love to meet one day. The truth is that motherhood makes that kind of travel about 10,000 times harder than it once was. By the grace of God, a few of us managed to make it happen recently and it was so good for my soul!

Six weeks to write a blog post seems like a totally reasonable amount of time, right? As promised, I wanted to write a post about my trip to Indiana, (in September) if nothing else because this was a very long time coming and something I'll want to remember. Seriously, Sam started talking about going to the Georgia/Notre Dame game years ago when the announcement was made. I kind of rolled my eyes at the thought, and then he said the magic words, "you know, South Bend is pretty close to Suzanne." Oh, well, why didn't you just say that?

I tried not to get my hopes up. What are the odds we'd get tickets? But as the months ticked by and Sam became more and more motivated, I started to see this as a real possibility. Earlier this year, we were hoping to make it a long(er) weekend. You see, Suz is just an hour away from South Bend, but my sweet, sweet friend Annie lives just a few hours away from Suzanne. It seemed too good to be true. Take a few days off of work, spend some time in Indiana, travel over to Illinois, spend a few days there...magical. And then the adoption process stole all of our days off of work. Sam literally had one day to give...that's it. Sigh.

So the trip was not all that I had planned. It was the exact opposite of relaxing. Following the car-ride-that-would-not-end, I suddenly feel very different about flying. My aversion is melting away at the mere thought of another 10 hour car ride with Garrison. We were in Indianapolis for a whopping 40 hours, but...

this made it all worth it. I hadn't seen Suz since Garrison was a teensy, tiny, little nugget, which means that I had never met her THREE babies. Guys, that's a lot of change. Like a lot. And despite some serious effort on Annie's part, we'd never managed to meet up at all. Plus she now had twin toddlers that I had never met. It was an absolute joy to see these friends and to see all. the. babies. Seriously, if this weekend isn't just a might middle finger to infertility, I don't what is.

While Sam went to South Bend to see the campus and spend the day being football-y, I hung with Suz and spent the day with the wild ones. In light of our extremely tight schedule, we couldn't make it to Illinois, but Annie drove all the way over, just for the afternoon. You guys, how great is she? And Suz hosted us all like her home is a toddler daycare every day of the week (which it sort of is, but still). Wild? Yes. Exhausting? Yes. Life-giving? Absolutely. Worth 10,000 hours in the car with a cranky, screaming two year-old? Without a doubt!

Next time, the girls should absolutely plan to leave the kids with the boys and spend the afternoon getting pedicures and sharing stories. The one thing I was sad about was there was just not enough time to spend talking with my friends...but motherhood does that to you, right? And I'm pretty sure we wouldn't trade all the afternoons relaxing in the world for the lives we've created.

I'll be honest and say three years ago, I didn't know if this would happen. We were all thick, deep in the trenches. The sh@% was hitting the fan left and right for all of us. It just didn't seem likely we'd all crawl out of the pit. And yet, in the matter of 450 days exactly, we collectively went from zero to six kids between us. These ladies have stories worth making a movie about and it was such a privlege to walk through it all with them.

Infertility was a dark chapter in my life. I didn't handle it with have the grace or belief I wish I had, and yet, I'm so thankful for that season of life...for so many reasons. One of those is the ladies. I'm not sure I would have kept my head without them and it was such a joy to celebrate all that grace has given us.

So, Why Adoption...Again?

Once upon a time, we made a plan. Sam and I said we'd adopt and then we'd return to Jacksonville, Florida for our remaining embryos. And yet, here we are, right smack in the middle of an international adoption. I'll be honest, I feel that tension. The reality of embryos sitting in a freezer in Florida with my name on them is a heavy burden...most days, that's exactly how it feels. But let me back up.

Adopting Garrison was quite possibly the single greatest, most defining event in my life. I feel like an entirely different person now. It feels accurate to divide my life in two, BG (before Garrison) and AG (after Garrison). Now part of that is certainly simply taking on the role of mother. That in and of itself changes every woman whether she expects it and welcomes it or not. Something simply shifts when you become a mom. But for me, it goes far beyond that. Adopting rocked my world on every level. It often feels as if it quite literally shattered my heart. For me, adoption was no longer about family building, instead it became about orphan care. I thought I cared about the orphan before, but now I think about the orphans on a daily basis and my heart breaks for the fatherless.

Another thing that changed for me after adopting was my desire to get pregnant and give birth. Some women adopt and still long for the experience of pregnancy and birth...it doesn't diminish their love for their children who were adopted, but it remains a desire for them. Others no longer carry that dream after adopting. I was 100% sure I'd be in the former camp. There was absolutely no way my desire to carry a child and give birth could ever go away...the desire was just too strong. And then a funny thing happen. I woke up one day and realized it was 100% gone. I say that and I think people thing I'm joking or just trying to be positive. Nope. Dead serious. In fact, I'd prefer NOT to ever get pregnant. For real. The only desire that remains for me is for healing. I still desire the answer to my prayers. I still desire for the Lord to reach down and heal me, not because I want to be pregnant or have a biological child, but because I'd love for that to be a part of my story. Does that make sense? Honestly, what I'd really love is to wake up one day with the knowledge that God had healed me and then I'd never test Him on it. "Cool. Thanks. I appreciate that. Now I'd like to not get pregnant, mmm-kay? Thanks." that's how I imagine our conversation would go.

And that my friends is a really interesting place to sit with four embryos in the freezer. In fact, it's a kind of yucky place to sit. I have these embryos that I feel responsible for, and yet, I don't really want to transfer them at this point. Yuck, right? I told you, it's not a good place to sit. We personally don't believe in discarding them or donating them to research and they are far, far too poor of quality to donate. The reality is that the odds are high that I will not get pregnant from the embryos. We know that and the doctors have agreed. We went down and spoke with the doctors at FIRM almost two years ago and they confirmed that the odds were low. Not non-existent, but low...I tend to lower the percentages of any Reproductive Endocrinologist a good twenty percent, so we're talking seriously low. So why won't I just transfer them and be done with it? Well, because it feels pretty gross to think about taking meds and stepping back on to the roller coaster all to hope that it doesn't  work. Ewww. It's not the same as just hoping the pregnancy test will be negative after unprotected sex, at least, it's not the same to me. It's hoping that the embryos don't survive. Ughh. That's tough. And until I can get my head in a place where I am open and receptive to a pregnancy, I don't feel good about opening that door again. Until I can say that I'm at least open to the idea of a pregnancy, I don't want to step anywhere near the roller coaster that is infertility treatments, let alone strap myself in.

So that's one part of it; I don't really want to be pregnant. The other part is that I desperately want to adopt again. Adoption is absolutely, without a doubt NOT the only way that we can care for orphans. In fact, I feel so very strongly that orphan care does not, cannot begin with adoption. Orphan care starts with orphan prevention. But, with that being said, I do believe in adoption. I believe that "God sets the lonely in families." I believe that believers are called to care for the orphan. And while I do not believe that it is the responsibility of the infertile couple to step torward for adoption, I do believe that infertility is a part of my story so that I would be directed towards the path of orphan care.

Over the last several years, I've followed several adoptive mamas on Instagram and as I thought and prayed and researched, I felt a strong desire to adopt from China, specifically from the waiting child list. We are overjoyed at the prospect of adopting a child with special needs into our home and we are thrilled to bring a child from China into our home and call them son or daughter. Truly, this is our plan A at this point and we could not be more excited for this opportunity!

With that said, we do still plan to return to Jacksonville following this adoption. I don't know what that looks like or how I can move from where I am today to a place of desiring a pregnancy without falling back into the crazy. I'm not sure exactly what steps I need to take to get my head on straight in terms of infertility treatments, pregnancy, biological children...all of that, but I know that I'm willing to take the steps to be ready and I know that we are committed to seeing that our embryos have the chance we promised them over three years ago. For now, we wait and pray that the Lord will bring us to and through the Chinese adoption experience. We are excited for the days, week, months, and even years ahead.

Life Lately

I just knew when in the depths of infertility that I would still blog if ever there was a post-infertility chapter of life. I think for many infertility bloggers, the urge to blog somehow dissolves after kids. There was this need, this burden to get it all out, to write it all down, to share when in the midst of the waiting. And then of course, there's the obvious excuse that life is just a lot more busy once kids enter the picture. I have sort of fallen captive to both scenarios.

This year has been hard. Really, really hard. One of the hardest years of my life, and for those who lived through the infertility years with me, you know that's saying something. It seems that I would have a lot to write about in such circumstances, but for whatever reason, the motivation is just difficult to find. Yes, I'm tired. Yes, I want to simply zone out and watch Gilmore Girls the moment my high-energy little buddy succumbs to sleep. However, to a large degree, the lack of blogging has more to do with a lack of words. I don't even know what to say. How much to share. I still have a desire to adopt again, and on some level I'm afraid to share something that might deter someone from approving us for the adoption process again should they find this blog, so it has been hard to know how much and what to share.

For one, this year has been filled to the brim and overflowing with anxiety. I have dealt with anxiety my whole life, on and off. Some seasons have been worse than others (I'm looking at you middle school years). I have previously experienced panic attacks and knew that anxiety could be pretty awful. I have been on and off of various medications throughout my life since I was about 11 years-old, so I've experienced that process as well. Most of my anxiety was during my preteen and teen years, but I have certainly had bouts with the beast as an adult too. Nothing, and I do mean nothing I had previously experienced prepared me for this year. Anxiety roared into my life like a mighty lion and set up camp. I quickly ran for medication realizing early on that this was not something I would be able to master on my own. Unfortunately, for the first time in my adult life, medication has barely taken the edge off. I've entered into the world of counseling again, and I'm hopeful that there is an after to this episode of intense anxiety, but so far, I'm still stuck smack dab in the middle of it.

In addition, a couple of months ago, my father passed away very unexpectedly. You won't find mention of my father much on this blog. We had a very difficult relationship and much of our past was tumultuous to say the least. However, it is never easy to lose a parent and these last months have been hard on so many different levels. As his only legal child (my brother is his step-son), I have taken on the responsibility of administering his estate. Sheesh. People, hear my plea: Get your crap together. Get a will. Get it sent through probate court. Let multiple people know where you keep copies of your will. Get life insurance. And if you give a flying-flip about what happens to your body when you die, make sure that it's written down and that people know about it. If you have some of that junk, but you haven't updated it in a while, GO UPDATE IT. And for the love of all things holy, help your parents get their junk together. Do not allow your parents to leave you a mess. Do not leave the people you love with a mess. Get your stuff in order.

Between the anxiety of, well my very special brain, and the stress of losing my dad and dealing with his estate, the last few months have just been hard. But there's a lot of really, really, good stuff too. Garrison is almost  22 months old. That's just too mind boggling to really understand at this point. It dawned on me last week that I probably need to start thinking about a birthday party in the next few weeks. But didn't we just have one? It seems particularly unreal to think of him as a two-year-old.

"I eat."

He is BURSTING at the seems with life and opinions. His language has exploded over the last couple of months, so now he has the ability to share much of this with us and it's typically just the funniest thing you've ever heard. He's EXHAUSTING at this age. I have absolutely no idea how his teachers at daycare don't simply drop at the end of the day because I'm so ready for bed the minute his head hits the mattress. I think a large part of his exhaustiveness, at least to me, is his extroverted nature. I am, and will always be, introverted to the depths of my being. I can sit calmly and quietly for long stretches of time and say nothing...I'm not unhappy or sad; I'm resting and soaking in the quiet and stillness. There is no quiet or stillness with Garrison. I assume that's mostly true with any toddler, but he seems to be particularly so. He is on the go--constant movement, constant noise--from the moment he wakes up until he simply drops. The moment he's asleep I just want to sit in the quiet and breathe. However, in the midst of all of the movement and noise, there's a whole lot of love. He's learned to give really good hugs and he gives the sweetest little kisses you've ever seen (it's not really a kiss, but more of a touching of cheeks).

"Mommm, stop taking photos for my senior yearbook already."

He continues to have big, big feelings just as he did when he was a baby. Things are either the best-thing-ever or absolutely the saddest-most-miserable-most-unacceptable-thing-ever. There is absolutely no in between. With opinions like that, you can imagine that his love and dedication to the things that he enjoys is intense. He currently loves his "bee-dee," or his word for blanket. Thus far, he's impartial to which blanket...he wants ALL the blankets. Folding laundry is a joke. He steals every single dadgum blanket out of the pile before I get a chance to hide them. He also LOVES dogs. All dogs. Big ones. Small ones. Mean ones. Old ones. He has never met a dog he didn't love and his love is shown by simply trying to smother the dog in hugs of adoration.

"Outside" is his most favorite place in the whole world.

He is still a tiny little nugget. At his most recent sick visit, he was 21 lbs 10 oz with clothes and boots on, so I'm guessing he's barely 21 pounds. He's starting to get a little picky with food. He's not a fan of many meats these days and he's starting to turn his nose up at some veggies. His favorite food is by far cheese. That's what he asks for first thing every morning. "Eat! Eat! Cheese!" Bless him. So not my biological kid. I hate cheese and he eats it by the fistful. We'll definitely be adding Pediasure back into his diet for the winter to help offset all the sick days. He's also very particular about the temperature of his food. The range of room temperature to cold is acceptable. Anything approaching lukewarm will get a loud exclamation of "hot" and a refusal to try another bite for a good five minutes. Some days I wonder why we cook food at all. He'd prefer leftovers straight out of the fridge.

All in all, I continue to be blessed beyond my wildest dreams. Even in the midst of the really hard parts, life is sweet. My boys are good to me and I'm forever thankful that I get to do this twisty-turny, broken thing called life with them.

Loving the Life I Didn't Choose

For the last five years I've had a pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks during early September. In 2011, it was the day I received my first and only positive pregnancy test and I felt so guilty for the caffeine as 1,000 what-ifs ran through my devastated mind. For the next four years I drank that latte in memory of what might have been. It was a way to pause and remember my first child who was shed from my body far too soon.

This year, I didn't do that. In fact, I barely recognized that the date had come and gone. I was playing on the beach with my son. Our vacation was glorious and deserves a whole post to itself (that I might get together by Christmas). But it was a poignant moment for me to realize that I was too busy loving the life before me to remember the life I wanted. 

I've always struggled with the idea of being thankful for hard things. Well, that's not true. It's a specific hard thing. It's death. To be thankful for death is just a hard concept for me to grasp, especially the death of a child, be they born or still in the womb. Throughout the years, I would hear people say, "I'm so thankful things worked out this way. Otherwise, I wouldn't have (fill in the blank)."  That has always been hard for me to process. To be thankful for the miscarriage or stillbirth of one child which allowed you to later have a different child. I've always clung to my theory of both. I've said I want both. I've refused to be thankful for that first miscarriage even though it eventually led me to my son. I rationalize that I would have wanted both. I would have wanted that first child (and each of the others) and I would also want my son. But if I'm honest with myself, it's very, very, very unlikely that I would have Garrison if I had given birth in May 2012 and everything had gone according to my plan. Sure, we always said we'd like to adopt. But the adoption plan was never for a blue-eyed infant from Florida four years later. 

How do you love the life you didn't chose? For a long time, that was really, really hard for me. There were years where I simply didn't like my life. Sure I was thankful that I was alive, but actually like my life? It was too easy too look around and say, "that is the life I want." I wanted the life I had planned. I couldn't see the possibility of anything good, let alone better. I've learned to love this life I didn't chose. And not in a "this is the best I can hope for," or Plan B kind of way, but in a "I couldn't have dreamed it better" kind of way.

But therein lies this tension. Garrison is mine and I am his because of "unfair" circumstances. Infertility ran over my life like a runaway train and I screamed about the unfairness through the whole journey. My son doesn't know this yet, but his circumstances were unfair too. It's weird to mourn the loss and pain while simultaneously being incredibly grateful that we're all together because of it. It's an odd thing to wish I could remove the pain and hurt that these years have caused while recognizing that without this pain and hurt, the journey would not have led us together. It's weird to think that I would have missed him if I'd gotten what I wanted all those years ago. But admitting I prefer this life, feels like saying I'm glad my first children died. You see? There's this tension. 

I have no neat bow to tie all of this up. No words of wisdom. No answer to the tension. All I can leave us with is this quote from a really fantastic book that I've been reading and rereading, trying to soak in as much as possible from a fellow infertility survivor. Melanie Dale, author of It's Not Fair writes this, "after years of telling God it's not fair, I can now say that I'm grateful for my struggle. I would never tell someone else to be grateful for theirs. We can't tell people in pain to be grateful. That would be the highest cruelty. But over time, after having raw conversations with God and acknowledging the life unfolding around me, I see the beauty of his creation. It's not fair. It's different than fair." So while I learn to live with this tension of desperately loving this life I didn't chose, while mourning the life I thought I wanted, all I can say is I'm grateful. Oh so very grateful for a God who holds this tension with me and leads my family on this journey with love and compassion, strength and security. I'm thankful for the journey and thankful for the one who journeys with me.

Pace Yourself

This post has been in the works for six months. Apparently that's how long it now takes me to think, ruminate, write, rewrite, rethink, rewrite, and edit. Blogger extraordinaire right here. For the last several months I've noticed something about myself and I've spent a few of my available moments of free brain space to think about this interesting (at least to me) thought pattern. You see, I have felt pressure, literally since the beginning of our time with Garrison to do all. the. things. There has been no "or" in my vocabulary. It's always "and." We should do this AND we should do that. We should go there AND we should go there. We need to (fill in the blank) AND we need to. Anybody else ever feel this way?

I've thought about it and thought about it and come up with a couple of ideas as to why this may be my new thought process. Firstly, there are more times than I can count where I've convinced myself that we need to X and Y "because Garrison might be our only child." Can I get an amen? It's crazy the things that I've felt pressured to do, buy, experience just because he might be our only one. Strangely enough, I don't really believe that he will be our only child. If you ask me (when I'm not freaking out about the need to do/buy/see X) I would tell you that I'm pretty confident we'll have two, maybe even three kids. However, I definitely don't know that we will have babies, so along that same vein of thought, comes "because he might be our only baby." Example number one. If you follow me on Facebook, you've likely seen that I became obsessed with photo sessions this past year. Newborn, family photos, sitting photos, standing photos, Santa photos, family photos, first birthday photos. Photo sessions with professional photographers are not cheap and this year our finances have struggled due to daycare + formula + PT and OT appointments + Garrison's surgery, and yet, I would have taken out a second mortgage to have those photos. Wise? No. But I'm terrified to look up and have missed it. He will very likely be my only newborn. There was no way in hell I was missing those insanely expensive photos. Garrison very well might be the only child that will ever learn to sit or stand or celebrate his first birthday with us and I just can't miss it.

A second idea is that I waited so long to do these things with a child, and now that I have one, it's like we must do all. the. things. RIGHT. NOW. For example, I've dreamed of taking my kid(s) to Disney World for YEARS. Like literally the greatest dream come true will be to walk my little kid(s) through the gates of the Magic Kingdom. I might just lie down on the floor and weep. I have greatly struggled with the need to take him this past year. It would have been a financial nightmare and that's about the only reason I've not gone. The fact that he wouldn't remember it, that he might sleep through half the day, that he might not be able to ride anything, and that he'd likely be scared out of his ever loving mind by all the people and characters has not deterred my desperate need for him to experience Disney. Sam has known about my love affair with Disney for years and his answer has always been "when we have kids." We've been together for almost 11 years now...that's a lot of waiting. He surprised me when we completed IVF in Jacksonville with a day trip to the Magic Kingdom because technically, we had kids (be still my heart). It was heaven, but I've still been dying to go back and see it all again. We've joked for years that because of his "rule" I'd likely try to take my six week old to Disney...well he wasn't far off. If finances hasn't stood in the way, I'd have taken that little boy to every single park. In a similar way, I need him to go to the zoo, the aquarium, go to the beach, see snow, fall in love with Harry Potter, etc and I need him to do it all NOW. It's a constant battle to remind myself that no, we do not need to fly to Colorado or drive to Kentucky to follow the snow this winter. And oh gosh Christmas. I needed to start every single Christmas tradition this year. There were a number of times that I considered giving the kid hot (mildly warm) chocolate because CHRISTMAS, you know?

And thirdly, maybe the darkest of all of the thoughts has been the discovery that I in some weird, twisted way have felt like my time with him is limited. Maybe it stems from the adoption process. The fear that any second we'd receive a call telling us to get out of the NICU and head home it was over. Or the days and nights once we were home fearing any 904 area code calls that would say bring him back to Jacksonville, his birth father is coming for him. Or maybe it stems from my gigantic, overwhelming fear of SIDS since the moment we left the hospital. Garrison was/is truthfully at a higher risk than most babies, and somehow that has manifested into this anxiety that has plagued my days and nights over these past months. I thought I would breathe much easier at six months when the risk drops significantly, and to some degree I did. I don't wake up a million times in the night to check the monitor. However, I do become paralyzed with fear, literally too afraid to even go check for fear I'l be too late, when I've slept a long stretch and he hasn't moved.

In a similar, rather depressing, Freud would have a field day train of thought, I've also noticed that for me, the monthly age recaps have felt a lot less like counting up and a lot more like counting down. One month becomes two, and two months becomes three, but in a lot of ways it feels like a slippery slide down to one year where I can't catch my breath or find a foot hold to pause for just a moment. In some ways, that count down feels like a countdown to the end. What comes after one? It's a constant struggle to remind myself that two, TWO comes after one, and there are twelve glorious months in between just like this year. That there will be plenty of time to go explore the zoo, to see Disney, to stay up past our bedtime watching movies and eating popcorn. Because he's mine. Not my borrowed son. Not my temporary son. But my real, forever and ever son. So pace yourself, Amanda, it doesn't all have to happen now, this year, or before he turns one. You've got a lifetime to fill to the brim with love and happiness.

That's where this blog post was meant to end, and then tragedy struck and all my thoughts about forever and ever were questioned. In November a precious mama that I went to high school with found out that her two year old has cancer. Ughhh. And not just any cancer but super rare, super aggressive, terrifying cancer. And then just weeks later, a fellow infertility mama lost. her. son. 13 months. You guys. I was a hot mess of terror. She did an IUI the same month I did IVF and delivered her son within days of my IVF due date. She had all of the milestones that I would have had if our IVF cycle had not ended in miscarriage. After those two events, I just couldn't post this. Because tomorrow isn't promised. Sometimes "a lifetime" isn't all that long. And I was terrified all over again. Any insight or comfort this cathartic use of writing had brought was quickly eliminated by the ugly truth that our days with our children are not promised to us.

I've spent time since then as the clock slowly ticks closer and closer to his first birthday thinking about how to process these heavy emotions and thoughts in light of the truth that my days, Sam's days, and Garrison's days are numbered and we will never know what that number is until our days are done. I still believe the encouragement to pace myself is important. We don't have to do it all, or see it all right now. But I think it's also a fair reminder to remember that these days are precious whether we have just one more, or twenty thousand more. So we should enjoy them. Love them. And live them well.

Eleven til One

You guys, I may spend the next few weeks curled up in the fetal position. Eleven months. ELEVEN months. ELEVEN MONTHS. Be still my heart. I just can't.

Nicknames: Bupsie, Bubs, Nugs, Love Nug, Goobs, Goobie, Goobie Booty, Noodle

Beautiful little Goobie.

Stats: Once again I have really inaccurate stats and for that reason I'm not going to FREAK THE HELL out about the numbers. 18 lbs and 27 inches. For. The. Love. We're incrementally climbing the weight chart and rolling down the height chart like a runaway snowball. But, it's not worth worrying about until I get into the pediatrician for his one year next appointment. He still wears 6-9 or 9 months clothes and size 3 diapers when he's not wearing cloth. And, we may stay here until he's two. But that's cool. I'm getting my money's worth.

Post bath naked time.

This child has nine teeth. NINE. He has the top four, bottom three, and then both of the first bottom molars have come through. He's taking it like a champ because he has seriously been teething nonstop since 7 months. Bless his heart. And bless mama's too because the kid BITES. I'm terrified that my kid is going to be THAT kid at school. I already hear his teachers saying, "Gentle, Garrison" all the time. Ackkk.

Sharpening his toothies on Sophie action while he waits on
his pancakes at Cracker Barrel

Eating: I pretty much let him eat whatever he wants at this point. Baby Led Weaning has produced an excellent eater. Far better than his mama. I think his favorite foods are probably beans, mashed potatoes, and blueberries. All foods I could really do without. Bless him. The only foods he hasn't really had yet our peanuts/peanut butter, grapes, and egg whites. Oh and cake. He hasn't had cake. But he's about to have lots of cake. Sigh.

Pulled pork and baked beans. Yum.

He's doing really well with straw sippy cups. I think he prefers not to have to tip his head back. He's a busy little body and would prefer not to have to rest/chill and lounge with his cup/bottle. So pretty much the exact opposite of his mama. But I'm really proud of him. All of these things that people said he might struggle with due to his preemie status, low birth weight status, or early struggles have just turned into non issues. He's rocking growing up into a (teeny tiny) big boy.

Daddy trying to encourage him to walk sans walker/shopping cart/wagon.

Sleeping: The sleep situation remains wonderful. He's still getting 11.5-12.5 hours each night. Our trip down to Florida sort of through him out of whack for a few days, but otherwise, he's been awesome. Thank you, Jesus.

Sleepy snuggles in the morning are my favorite.

Likes: He likes mom. A lot. Like more than a lot. Like mom is the only human in the world worth acknowledging most days. I can sit like a bump on a log and I'm just the greatest thing ever. Sam has to perform like a circus act to garner that kind of attention. Bless him. Daycare and the nursery volunteers at church have mentioned that he's starting to notice (and become upset) when other moms come to pick up their kids. Poor buddy, Unfortunately for him, I'm typically the last or second to last to get him at daycare and he's stuck in the nursery for two services on Sunday so he sees all the mamas come and go. The past month has been pretty hard on my mom heart. I'm feeling more guilty about leaving him, working, etc. He's so little and all he wants in life is his mama. It doesn't seem like too much to ask for. I keep reminding myself that I'm a better mom to him in the time we have together for my time away. If I was his jungle gym all day, I'd be exasperated. This is good for me. And him. That's my mantra.

Just chillin' in the wagon in the middle of the living room.

Garrison also likes whatever I've told him "no, no" about. Dog bowls...A-mazing. Cat litter...Best. Thing. Ever. Trash can...freaking awesome. Sterling...so great. Everest...best toy. I've almost decided to just let him go. Sure buddy, eat the dog food, flip the water bowl, beat on that 85 pound beast, pull the cats tail, but then I get to the cat litter. Nope. Just no. Gross. I can't. We will continue to say "no, no" and redirect a million and a half more times (this week).

Come'ere Sterling

Dislikes: Garrison continues to dislike being away from mom. I truly do think he's fine once I'm gone. It's the whole me leaving/someone taking him from me that sends him into a fit. Oh, and the reminder that I'm not there by the fact that other moms have come back for their little ones (thanks a bunch, moms).

Garrison continues to hate diaper changes. HATES them. And unfortunately, I'm struggling with cloth diapers for the first time in my wash routine, so I'm not loving diapers these days either. I'd potty train him today if I could.

Riding in his big boy car seat.

Looking forward to: Plans for his first birthday are going well. I'm probably about 1/2 of the way through with decorations and planning. It's going to be a good day. I may just not wear any mascara that day.

These eleven months have been the greatest months of my life. Hardest? Maybe. There were certainly some really, really hard days. But all of the days have been filled to the absolute brim with redemption. The Lord is redeeming my lost years one day at a time. I'd walk through those four years of trying to conceive and infertility a thousand times to have this little love. The love in my heart for that little boy. Gahhhh. I could just squeeze him all day long. He's my greatest adventure and the love of my heart. 

Perfect Ten

The holidays are over. Wahhhh. I have to admit that this was just the best little season. Christmas was hectic as always...it's par for the course when you and your spouse have divorced parents. The number of places to go and people to see just multiplies and suddenly you blink and three days have gone by. But it was a really precious time. Sam and I took some time off of work and linked it up with the holiday time off and weekends and managed to get six days...the longest we've both been off since Sam started his job in 2013. It was glorious. And in the midst of that, my little man turned 10 months old. I can see the writing on the wall now. The next two months are going to fly. His birthday will be here and then he'll be one and then I'll lay down one night and wake up and it'll be time to send him to kindergarten. Ughhhh. And then college. I'm soaking in as many minutes with my baby as possible.

Nicknames: Bupsie, Bubs, Nugs, Nugget

Mom, this is ridiculous.

Stats: So his starts have barely changed, but I learned that his stats from 9 months were probably a little less than accurate. When I took him in for his actual 9 month appointment (at 9 months 16 days) he only weighed 16 lbs 9.8 oz, so my 17+ was just a wee bit off. Again, I don't have super accurate stats but we're going with 17 lbs 5 oz. I was also worried about his height at the 9 month appointment (because he fell totally off the chart) so the doctor remeasured him and puuuullllled on his little body stretching his neck to get an extra quarter of an inch. We're going with that measurement because I am not repeating that at home. 26.75 inches. Those numbers put him at between the fifth and tenth percentiles for weight and under the second percentile for height. I'm satisfied I guess. I mean, I can't actually make the kid grow. He wears 6-9 or 9 months clothes and he's just switched to size 3 diapers when he's not wearing cloth. He officially has 6 teeth now. Four on top and two on the bottom.

Pancakes at grandma's house.
She's silly enough to let him eat in a cushioned highchair.

Eating: Baby Led Weaning has REALLY shown it's power this past month. Homeboy devours food. Looooves food. He wants to eat whatever I'm eating, which is cool unless mom is eating ice cream. He also refuses to be fed. He wants to feed himself. It's obviously messy and on mashed potato night I have to hold my breath so as not to puke on him, but I'm pleased with his love of food and his willingness to eat anything I give him. Thus far, BLW has proven to do as promised, so we'll keep plugging along. I've also seen the truth that as he eats more real food his desire for formula goes way down. We've been struggling just to keep him hydrated. I'm obviously a bit worried about calories and growth...there is just no amount of avocados, potatoes, or cheese that will equal the calorie rich formula. Especially since we fortify to a higher calorie content. The pediatrician gave the green light for introducing meat for some more protein and adding good fats at any opportunity. Garrison now gets real butter on just about everything. She also recommended adding safflower oil to lots of things as it's a really good fat and easy to add a few drops to oatmeal or cook veggies in. 

Thanksgiving 2015. Let it be known that the plan was to wear
 pants. Garrison changed that plan by spitting up on his pants
two seconds after getting ready. Still, he's pretty cute.

We've also been working on introducing a sippy cup. It hasn't been going super well, but Santa brought some sippy cups with straws. I'm VERY committed to the sippy cup because I am VERY ready to kick formula to the curb. I don't know if we will have to switch to something other than whole milk (so as to have extra calories and nutrients) but regardless it'll save a bundle over $25 containers of formula. 

Garrison's first ever Christmas present

Sleeping: Praise the Lord. The sleep situation is back to wonderful. At his nine month appointment I explained the sleep situation to his pediatrician. She pretty bluntly told me it sounded like I'd abandoned sleep training. And I guess I had. What started out as an anomaly became our every night and I was just too terrified to revisit sleep training. It was kind of the kick in the butt I needed to hear. Sam and I talked and agreed on a system. I'm happy to report that three not so fun nights of sleep training have equaled some very solid 11.5-12.5 hour nights lately. Even with the holidays. I can't complain.

Christmas morning. Nom, nom. Little people.

Likes: Cabinets. That's pretty much it. Oh and dog food. The only two things that's he's not supposed to have are the two things he most desires. Ughhhhh. The cabinet situation happened fast. He was using handles to pull up for a while and I wasn't really worried. He was pleased just to stand there holding onto the kitchen cabinets. But then, he discovered that the cabinets and drawers open. Have mercy. By day three of this discovery he'd already pulled out my ceramic pitcher from Pottery Barn (which of course shattered). Cue a rush to order cabinet locks.

The dog food thing is weird. He's obsessed. I literally pull him away from the dog food 20, 30, 40+ times a day. It drives me bananas, but I don't really know what to do about it. I just keep hoping it's a phase that he'll grow out of.

Garrison met Santa. For one brief moment it looked as if they might be friends.
Do not be fooled. Garrison actually hates Santa and would prefer if he never
visits our house. And thus began Stranger Danger. "Where's mama?"

Dislikes: Separation anxiety is still a big deal in Garrison's life. He really just wants mommy 24 hours a day when we're home. Sam can entertain him if he tries really hard, but sometimes dad just doesn't cut it. And even if he's playing contentedly with his dad, if he sees me walk off/leave the room he flips into hysterical mode like lightning. Thankfully, he still likes his teachers at daycare, so morning drop-off is still super easy. The day that changes??? Woe to my coworkers.

Winter = 10x more trips to the pediatrician

Garrison also hates being sick (as does his mom). He's gotten two viruses in the last couple of months. The one at the end of November was a glorious combo of ear infection and bronchitis. That one was not fun simply because of the medications, breathing treatments, etc. He was sweet and snuggly though, so while I hated that he felt bad, I was glad that that he generally just wanted to sleep and snuggle. The most recent was a sore throat...no definitive cause. Maybe a virus. Either way, that one suuuckkked. He screamed non-stop. I was so sure he had an ear infection that I took him in again. Nope. Clear ears. Ughhhh. The phrase "Winter is coming" now strikes real fear in my heart.

Garrison officially hates his carseat. Buckling him in has become a battle of wills. His will is very strong. Once he's in it, it's a 50/50 guess as to whether he'll happily babble away or scream like a banshee the entire trip.

He was certainly my best gift ever.

Ohhh, and diaper changes. What the heck? That child acts like I'm stabbing him with hot pokers as soon as I lay him down. He flips over. Crawls away. Flips over. Crawls away. Flips over. Crawls away. It seems so simple. Me VS 17 baby. This should not be a big deal, but oh. my. gosh. Can we potty train yet?

Riding his Elephant on Christmas morning. I love his little face.

Looking forward to: Well, I can tell you that I'm NOT looking forward to driving with Garrison down to Daytona, Florida. My cousin is getting married in January and we'll be loading up the car and driving some excruciating long hours. I haven't actually looked up how far it is out of fear. However, it'll be nice to have a long weekend again with my little man. Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays have spoiled me.

I'm also looking forward to planning his first birthday party. I'm telling myself to get into the planning so I can focus a little less on the occasion. I can't wrap my head around having a one year old. I mean, wasn't he just a little five pound burrito baby yesterday?

Thoughts on Infertility from the Other Side

This blog has become what I always thought it would be (with a lot less blogging than I imagined). You see, I never set out to be an infertility blogger. I didn't really set out to be an anything blogger. I just started blogging. While a lot of infertility bloggers struggle with the space they've created once they bring home a child, I'm not. Or at least not in the same ways. This space is mine and it's the space I've created to write about my life. In this current season, blogging is HARD because finding time to do anything is hard, let along string together two well thought out sentences that someone might actually want to read. But blogging about my son, his milestones, our adventures...it feels natural. This is the life I always thought I would lead (well except that I was six years younger and twenty pounds lighter in my dreams, but hey).

While blogging about my son and our life together (or more accurately his monthly updates...let's be real) feels normal and good in this space, I haven't forgotten my roots. Infertility is in me, down deep. I'm blissfully happy, overwhelmed at the grace given to me in the form of this beautiful boy, but I am still infertile. Thoughts on infertility don't consume me, but I do still think about infertility. Pretty regularly actually. My thoughts are probably two fold...part from being a mother on the other side of the waiting and yearning for a child, and the other from having chosen adoption to get there.

What are my thoughts on infertility now that I'm a mom? Well for starters that season of my life SUCKED. I may still be infertile, but I'd rather be infertile with a child than infertile without every. single. day. While I may absolutely go through another season of longing and waiting to add to my family, I can't imagine that anything will be as miserable as those first four years.

Secondly, nothing about my body has changed...it's still just as broken as ever, but my outlook on this broken body and the crappy circumstances of infertility is so much more optimistic now that I have Garrison. But I remember those days, the ones where I honestly wasn't sure if I'd ever hold a child and call him son or daughter. That was the darkest season of my life.

While that season is definitely over, I am still infertile. My body is still broken, still not functioning the way that a woman's body should. I will have to make my peace with that or allow it to haunt me, but either way, adopting Garrison or any other child will not change my body. And, unlike the recent upsurge of those surprisingly pregnant after giving birth from a successful IUI or IVF treatment in the community, adoption will not reset or convince my body that it does in fact know what to do. I am still just as infertile today as this time last year when we started the adoption process, and the year before that as we prepared for IVF. Garrison didn't change my broken body. I imagine that in some ways pregnancy and birth after infertility are healing. At least, I always thought it would be. My body's triumph over this stupid condition...adoption does not provide that same sense of victory. I don't hate my body, that's really not the issue. Sure, I wish it was less pudgy, slimmer, with curves in the right places rather that where they currently reside, but I don't look at my body and think FAILURE should be tattooed across my forehead. However, adoption isn't changing the way I see my body...and it's probably never going to. My breasts will likely sag (even more than they do now), but I will never look at them with joy or pride for the nourishment that they provided. I'll likely have a stretch mark or two, but they won't be the sign of a warrior, proud of the life she carried inside. Rather they'll just be the lingering reminder of one too many pints of Ben and Jerry's. I am still infertile both in definition and in spirit, despite the adorable blue-eyed boy perched on my hip.

Despite the almost daily reminders of my infertility, it is not the all consuming presence it once was. And interestingly enough, Garrison is not a reminder of my infertility, which many have voiced as a question to me. I don't look at Garrison and think of my infertility or even his adoption into our family...I just see my son. The daily reminders of infertility are the same things they always were--pregnancy announcements, the fertility friend app on my phone ("Did you know that charting your cervical fluid can help you pinpoint your most fertile days?" Umm, yeah, NO.), the box of used needles from my IVF cycle in my linen closet, the packets of Pregnitude that fall out of the medicine box, pregnant women. They all still remind me of my condition just like they always did. Pregnany belly bumps still hurt like crazy. It's not exactly a knife in the stomach any longer, but it's still a good firm kick. The largest part of my free thoughts go to Garrison and planning and dreaming about the future, but there are still (and maybe always will be) triggers. So yes, I absolutely feel infertile and yes, I still think about infertility pretty regularly; however, I no longer feel completely consumed or trapped by my infertility. I have found my path to my family and it has freed me to dream about growing a large family again.

What are my thoughts on infertility after adoption? I don't think anyone, infertile or otherwise, really knows how they will feel about adoption until they've lived it. It's part of the fear. "How will I feel looking into the eyes of a child that it not biologically related to me?" You can't really say until you do it. "How will I bond with this child who did not grow inside of me?" There are 1,000 different experiences and no one can say how the bonding and attachment season will go until you're neck deep in it. I really struggled with the idea that adoption was a calling and I wasn't sure if I was called...maybe adoption wouldn't "work" for me because I just simply wanted to adopt. Interestingly, adoption is changing me, changing who I am and what I dream about. Adopting made adoption my calling. The presence of infertility in my life no longer seems like the end of my story. It's a big freaking part, but more importantly it's the avenue, the walls of the river, if you will, that funneled me to my family. I still can't say that I would chose infertility, but I can say that I'd chose my son every day, and if infertility is the only way I'd find him, I'd walk that road again just to hold him in my arms.

What are my thoughts on biological children/pregnancy after adopting and becoming a mom? Before adopting, I was 100% confident in me need to experience a pregnancy at some point. I knew that after our first adoption I would return for IVF, donor eggs, or donor embryos because experiencing a pregnancy and giving birth was extremely high on my priority list. Now? It's really not. Would I like to experience all of that? Abso-freakin-lutely. Am I willing to spend the next five years chasing that dream? No, I'm really not. There are other ways to build my family, ways that currently excite me so much more than pursuing round after round of treatment. And this is in no way a slight against those seeking treatment. I get it. I was full steam ahead with ART once upon a time too. What I do wish, so deep down in my soul, is that those who are still waiting and wondering if they will ever hold their child would find the way to that child. Whether that's through medication, lifestyle change, prayer, acupuncture, adoption, fertility treatments, surrogacy...whatever the path is, I hope everyone finds it. My path didn't look anything like I thought it would, and my path continues to change even now. My son is changing what I want for my future, what I want for our family, where I want my money to go, and how I want to spend my days as we build our family.

The desire to give birth to a biological child is still there, but it has very little to do with wanting a child to share my DNA...actually it has nothing to do with that at all. It also has very little to do with wanting to carry a child. As I mentioned, I would like that experience. Very, very much. However, ultimately my desire to get pregnant and give birth comes from a desire for God to heal me. Sara Hagerty writes in Every Bitter Thing is Sweet, "I struggled, instead, with knowing that God could heal me, but he didn't." That's really the whole deal right there. I wrote about Sara's book earlier this year and said that I wasn't sure who I'd be if my fertile years run out and he never chooses to heal me. Will I still love God? Will I be bitter to the depths of my core? It seems much less severe today after becoming a mom, but like Sara, I still wrestle with that question. I want to be pregnant and give birth not because I'm desperate to look into a pair of green eyes with a head full of hair, but rather I yearn to see my God do the impossible in a tangible way.

For me, adoption has been the greatest blessing. Garrison is healing parts of my heart that have been broken for so, so long. I wasn't sure if I'd really ever by happy again, and this little boy is making morning sunrises and the changing seasons and so many other things glorious and new again. He's also changing my heart, allowing me to begin at the very smallest level to look from my own pain, which often causes us to look inward, and begin to look out and see the pain around me. Adopting Garrison is opening my eyes to the plight of the orphan in new ways. Now I cry over orphans and children in foster care...literal tears. It's no longer just a sad story for me, it's a desire to help in a real and tangible way. I long to scoop up the oppressed, marginalized, ignored, and forgotten, along with those who were deeply loved but whose birth family could not provide and bring them home. If I had to guess today, I doubt our family will look like the average family...and our kids certainly won't look like us. I imagine all of the kids will be blended in color, ethnicity, origin...and likely even how they join the family. Donor embryos and adoption (likely international) are the most probable ways for us to continue our family, and I seriously could not be more excited about the opportunities and possibilities before us.

Seventh Heaven

The months just keep passing, no matter what I do. Somehow, my itty, bitty baby went and turned 7 months old. For a thousand reasons I want to freeze time and never let him grow one minute older. This is such a sweet age. We're starting to really see his personality and it absolutely melts my heart. I wish he could just stay exactly like this forever. But then there are a million things that I'm looking forward to...watching his first movie together, reading a book together before bed that he actually acknowledges rather than trying to slobber on the pages, introducing him to Harry Potter, taking him to Disney World...there's just so many things I can't wait to do. The fact that the days speed by faster than ever is slightly less depressing when I think about all of the amazing things he will experience in the coming years.

Nicknames: Bupsie, Bubba, Bubs...we're narrowing it down to a theme here.

Really excited about these monthly pictures now.

Stats: I don't have official numbers this month, but he came in at 15 lbs 3 oz and 25.5 inches long at home…so a little less than a pound and about a half inch of growth in a month. Nothing earth shattering here. Still hanging out around the 5th percentile. He is still in size 2 when he wears disposable diapers and he's still in size 3-6 month clothes. I expect we'll be here for a while.

I'd really like to eat that phone!

Eating: Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd lost weight the way he's been eating. He's been teething since Labor Day. He now officially has two teeth, but man, getting those suckers out was basically a food strike. He was NOT interested in the bottle.

Don't worry about me, mom! Look at my rolls.

We finally started solids. We're trying to go with the baby led weaning approach, but I currently feel like a mega failure in terms of solids. My pediatrician about lost her mind when I said I hadn't started solids at his 6 month appointment...she thought we were very behind. While I know BLW takes a different stance on timing, I am worried that he's behind. I know he would do better and improve faster if he had more practice, but currently we're doing really good to get one meal a day in with solids. I have about an hour, maybe an hour and a half if he naps poorly with him awake in the evenings during the week. Somehow I'm supposed to do physical therapy, eat dinner as a family, give him a bath, read a book, and give him a bottle all within that period of time...it doesn't give a lot of time for him to just play with his food. But he'll get there. I'm going to ask daycare if they can start doing a feeding at school. Thus far he's had banana and avocado in terms of BLW. He definitely prefers avocado (little weirdo). Oddly, he's much better at feeding himself with a spoon right now than finger foods. I load the spoon and hand it to him. He gets it to his mouth right side up more than 75% of the time. So far he's tried oatmeal, sweet potatoes, and apples. We're going to try cucumbers and sweet potato sticks next.

Doubling up on those spoons!

Sleeping: Garrison continues to nap terribly to the point I wonder if it's even worth sticking to the schedule and fighting for naps. Some days, I'm so desperate for him to nap that I just hold him the entire time. This is the only way we come close to 45 minutes or longer. Otherwise it's typically 15-30 before he pops his head up like a little gopher. I can't complain too much though because Garrison continues to sleep well at night. There's typically a night or two each week where he wakes up between 4 and 6 o'clock in the morning...those days are obviously not my favorite. All in all though, I'm so thankful for a baby that sleeps through the night.

A brief visit to daycare during lunch. We decided to practice sitting. 

Likes: Garrison still enjoys bath time, so I think we'll need to find some bath toys soon. He gets super frustrated that I won't let him sit up in the bath, but my little guy continues to be a terrible sitter and the bath does NOT feel like the place to practice.

Give me a kiss ma'! Ooo, and give me some of your HAIR!

All in all, Garrison likes things that he can put in his mouth (mom's hair, cat hair off the floor, spoons, really anything is fair game) and toys that make noise. If it lights up AND makes noise, his little mind is blown and he can't stop smiling...for approximately five minutes until he wonders where his mom is and why she's not sitting RIGHT beside him.

Exhausted and full after his first tailgate.

Dislikes: I think Garrison mostly doesn't like to be tired...that's really when I feel like he's most cranky. Which to that I say, "take a FREAKING nap!" This kid just doesn't know how good he's got it. Imagine getting time painstakingly carved out of your day for you so that you can nap not once, not twice, not THREE times. At no other time in your life does someone so carefully help and encourage napping. He's going to regret skipping all of these naps one day.

Garrison at his first Georgia game.
He was a teeny bit more excited than pictured.

Looking forward to: It's almost October, my very favorite month of the year. We have a LOT to pack into this month. I have plans for a mini session of family photos, taking Garrison to a corn maze, getting his picture taken in front of a million pumpkins (because obviously), dressing him up in his ADORABLE Halloween costume, and celebrating our birthdays. It should be a really great month.

I continue to be simply amazed that this little love is mine forever and ever and ever. The pain and sadness are beginning to pale in the presence of such radiating happiness. He is the best thing about my day and I know that we are so fortunate to call this beautiful boy our son! Seven of the absolute best months!

Working Mom and Daycare

I've been back to work now for four months. Garrison has completed eighteen weeks at daycare. I think that's long enough to have valid thoughts and opinions on being a working mom with a baby in daycare, so I thought I'd share. This is in NO WAY an argument for staying home or going back to work. That's a personal decision for each mom to make and there are so many factors at play in every situation. Instead, I share this for those who might dread returning to work, but feel that they must.

For the last decade or more, I imagined myself as a stay at home mom. Which totally makes sense...I was going to knock out five kids before I was 29. I wasn't going to have time for work, let alone a career. Even in college, I consciously chose a degree that I felt would allow me to work from home. The reality is that we simply don't have the money for me to quit, especially if we want more children. I don't make a ton of money, but we're also not at that place where the cost of childcare outweighs my bring home salary either. Until we reach that place, or we pay off student loans, I'll likely be working. 

There are a lot of things that are really hard about being a working mom (not that there aren't hard things about staying at home), but surprisingly I've found some things to be really thankful for too. The negative aspects of working are difficult to come to terms with. Obviously I waited a really long time to be a mom. It sucks to leave him in someone else's care all day. It's especially hard when I think about the fact that the daycare teachers get 90% of his awake hours. Garrison sleeps until 7:30 in the morning. In the afternoon he comes home and promptly takes a forty-five minute nap from sheer exhaustion. The plan is that he'd stay up until 8:00 pm, but currently we're lucky if he makes it until 7:30 pm. It's just not a lot of time with him.

It reaaalllly sucks when I think about milestones. Miraculously, Garrison rolled over for the first time over the Fourth of July weekend, so Sam and I both got to witness it. I'm not sure if I'd call it lucky, but his first tooth started to come through over this past weekend. While it wasn't exactly fun, I'm glad I was the first too see his little tooth and I'm thankful I was there to comfort him. However, the odds are that some milestones will occur at daycare. When I think about him taking his first steps there rather than towards me, I just want to cry. Or if his teachers hear his first words??? Missing out on the days with him and knowing I'll probably miss a few "firsts" are definitely really hard parts about working.

In addition, it's hard to deal with the differences between daycare and home. While we did not start with any type of schedule at birth, by about 8 weeks, I started introducing a schedule. I truly believe this was the number one thing to help with all of the fussiness. Garrison does SO well on the schedule. He's easier to feed and get to sleep when he's on his schedule. But when there are seven other babies in the room, it's hard to expect them to stick to the schedule exactly. And while Garrison will nap decently at home in the most perfect napping conditions, there is just too much stimulation at daycare. Thirty minute naps have become the norm. It's SO frustrating because I know that he can nap longer, and I know that if he got good naps in the day, he'd be more likely to stay up a little longer at night. But I also know that he's not a good napper…the conditions have to be just right and a lit room with music and crying babies is not optimal for napping. All the sleep training books talk about various things to help your baby, but they all work on the assumption that you are able to let baby nap in his/her crib and control lights, sounds ect. I've had to come to terms with the fact that I am simply not in control at daycare. They have his schedule and do what they can to keep it, but some days are just going to suck under those conditions. That's really hard when I just want a happy (and awake) baby in the limited hours I have with him.

The hard parts of working probably aren't that surprising. I didn't expect the good parts though. For one thing, I really believe Garrison is hitting his milestones when he is because of daycare. If I was home with him, I would feel so much pressure to keep the house up, fold the clothes, do the dishes, etc. There would be stretches of time where I'd leave him to play by himself out of a sense of duty to my home and husband. While there are certainly times when he is playing by himself at daycare, those times feel more engaging. There are SO many things to look at and play with, and his teachers are constantly talking to the babies. It just feels very developmentally friendly to me.

The other positive that I see about daycare is social experiences. Garrison is constantly around other babies and other adults. As someone who was incredibly shy and hated any type of group experience as a kid, I'm hopeful that these early experiences during his formative years will help him learn to make friends. While I am PRO introverts (woo hoo, introverts unite...via text message, over a cup of coffee in the privacy of our own homes), I also really hope that he'll be comfortable in social situations whether he is introverted or extroverted, and I think a lot of that comfort just comes from socialization at a young age.

And lastly, immune system. Man, I would have SWORN that sending my formula-fed preemie into daycare was going to mean ongoing sickness. I was told to expect about one illness a month. I desperately clung to my days off from work, terrified that he'd constantly be sick. Within the first four days of starting daycare, Garrison got sick. Projectile vomiting. Explosive diarrhea. The whole deal. Sam and I could just see the writing on the wall. Believe it or not, that was the last time Garrison has been sick. May 7 was the last pediatric appointment for something other than his monthly checkups. We are shocked, but so, so thankful that his immune system is getting stronger. Once upon a time we had to do a three-minute scrub just to enter the same room as Garrison, and now he shares toys and equipment with seven other babies...I'm pretty sure they share a few germs too.

Lastly,  I am surprised to find that work to be a positive experience for me. My nature would be to stay home if I was a stay at home mom...as in all the time. It would be very unusual for me to venture out for more than errands. I wouldn't sign up for clubs or groups and set up play dates with other moms. I also wouldn't enroll my son in music class for toddlers of baby gymnastics as those things all cost money and I'd feel a strong desire to save every penny if I was staying at home. Knowing myself, it would be hard for me to be anything but a hermit if I stayed home with Garrison. And yet, I would crave some adult interaction. Working provides that for me...a reason to get dressed in something other than pajama pants and my husband's t-shirt, a reason to put on makeup and do my hair, an opportunity to get out of the house guilt free, and an opportunity to engage in conversation with someone who isn't six months old. Working is good for me. While I certainly miss my baby, I feel like I'm a healthier and happier mom for going back to work.

I truly enjoy my job, which I'm sure helps, but I'm honestly surprised that overall, I'm happy with out current arrangement. I do think that as the years go on, I will likely want to find some other arrangement. My mom quit her job after my seventh grade year and was available to pick me up from school or meet me at the bus stop for those years and it was SO important to me. It was a huge sacrifice on her part, but one that truly changed my life. I would really like to be able to take Garrison into school and pick him up each day once he starts school rather than enroll him in some form of after school program. Working part time seems like an ideal situation for me...all of the benefits and very few of the negative aspects of being a working mom. For now, we're comfortable and happy with our situation, but a girl can dream.