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.

The Sisterhood of Motherhood

Before Garrison came into my life, it felt like there was this members only club, one that nearly EVERYONE got to be a part of, but ironically I could not join. I felt like an outsider forever looking in, pressing my nose up to the glass on the comings and goings of the mom club. Now I'm actually a member of this sisterhood; I'm on the other side of the glass; I can see the inner workings of this group, and I can say this: moms are kind of intense.

I'm sure you've all seen that Similac commercial... the one that had moms boo-hooing for weeks and sharing is across social media. If not, you can see it here.



The commercial first went viral when I was not a mom, when I was still an outsider looking in at this Sisterhood of Motherhood. I remember thinking two things (while not crying in the least): 1- moms can't really be THAT bad because the commercial portrays them as slightly psychotic women with one track minds (i.e. I only care about breastfeeding. Or I only care about baby-wearing), and 2 - I hope it doesn't take a runaway baby stroller to make moms help one another. 

Now first of all, I have to point out that for the last three years of my life, I've lived in this kind of female utopia, at least within the blog world. I know that women are women, whether moms or not, but the infertility community has just been SO supportive of me over the last few years. I know some have experienced hurtful, spiteful comments from fellow infertiles, but I've never experienced it, and very rarely seen it with my own eyes. Rather, what I have seen is a community that is FOR each other, even when we don't necessarily agree. Not everyone agreed with my decision to do IVF, but my sisters still supported me. They loved me for me, and the means by which I tried to start a family were secondary. The same was true of adoption... adoption can be a scary, taboo type of word in the infertility community, and I doubt everyone thought it was the right choice for me to make, but I never heard a word otherwise. I was supported from beginning to end. Apparently this was paradise... in the real world, women often have fangs. 

I also have to add that I was REALLY sheltered from the mom world. Part of that was intentional on my part, as I didn't want to read mommy blogs or parenting books while I was waiting and hoping, and part of it was because I had relatively few really close friends here locally that were moms. So when I was thrown into the deep end, and earned the title of  "mom" in six seconds, I seriously had NO CLUE what was going on. CIO, Ferber, Attachment Parenting, BabyWise... It all meant NOTHING to me. Seriously. I mean I'd heard of "Ferber" sure, but it rhymed with Gerber, and no one hates that, so I had no idea that there was any more to say on the issue. My first (and still only) parenting book was loaned to me the morning I left for Florida. Erika ever so generously packed a diaper bag filled with tons of things I never would have thought to take to Florida. What she gave me was literally all I had at the time. In the bag was her favorite book that helped her with getting her daughter to sleep. I had no idea that this book aligned with a particular parenting strategy, no clue that it was in opposition to other parenting theories. I didn't choose the book because I strongly felt pro one direction or another. Rather, what I heard was my friend, who was a great mom and had already been through a similar process telling me "this book will help the baby (and me) sleep." Well sign me up! That was it... seriously. So you can imagine my dismay when the very act of reading a book stirred up other women (complete strangers) enough to comment. I didn't realize that by reading one book instead of another that I was setting up camp with one group of moms (and apparently giving the finger to others).

My first experience with this came while I was at the hotel in Jacksonville out reading by the pool. It had been a looonnngg day of Garrison hysterically crying for no discernible reason and I was desperately in need of a break. My mom offered to watch him so I could take a breather. I went and sat out by the pool with Erika's copy of The Happiest Baby on the Block, finally finding time to find out what makes a happy baby, because I was obviously FAILING. My baby was the farthest thing from happy. It wasn't ten minutes later when the comments started, "Ooo, you don't want that book; your baby will be so spoiled." And then "I did Babywise (to which I'm thinking what the junk is "babywise?" I'm trying to make him happy... I've got plenty of time to make him wise.) and my baby slept through the night at 8 weeks." It became clear with a little research later that the author of these two books The Happiest Baby on the Block and Babywise are pretty much in direct opposition to one another and that divides women into two camps. There are other books obviously; some are more similar to one, and others are more of their own thing. But all in all, the line gets drawn (on this issue) based on how you respond to and interact with your baby. Camp A FIRMLY believes that you must run (don't walk) as soon as your baby cries and soothe them back into a womb like state because your baby wasn't mean to handle the outside world yet. Your life is drastically altered and basically revolves around baby, BUT these behaviors will help your baby transition into the world and feel safe, protected, and loved. Sounds pretty great to me. Group B takes a very different stance and says that as the parent you handle the schedule and the way your baby interacts and meets the world. They say that by creating a schedule and a cycle of eat/play/sleep, you will help your baby adjust to this new world of days and nights and new stimulation. This group believes that predictability will help your baby feel secure. Also sounds pretty great. Honestly, I see good things about both groups, and don't feel strongly connected to either. But regardless, it's ridiculous to think that someone's choice in reading material lets you know what kind of parent she will be.

There have been several other instances in which I was basically attacked by complete strangers for my parenting choices. My favorite is always the formula deal. I've expressed my interest in and appreciation for breastfeeding before, so while I do understand some of the the thoughts behind these comments, it's just CRAZY that women think they have the right to comment and judge how I feed my baby. "Did you know breast is best, honey? she asks while I try to soothe a hysterical baby in the middle of the aisle in Target by shaking up a pre-measured bottle of formula. I want to say "Well, you see my breast is not best. It's empty. I adopted him. Thanks for bringing up a sore spot as I stand here in front of a wall of confusing formulas trying desperately to ascertain what the hell is different about each one and which will be best for my gassy, grumpy, sensitive little dude"... just ughhhh. I've even had women try to enlighten me about inducing lactation. Seriously? He was like ten weeks old at the time. We're not starting the absurdly hard and long process to induce lactation with NO guarantees that it'll work and NO guarantees that two plus months from now, he'll even understand the concept of breastfeeding. The idea that milk comes out of boobs would be news to him, let me tell you.

Those are instances directed at me, but I've seen so many instances were moms jumped on other moms for their parenting choices. I joined a Facebook group that I knew NOTHING about except that a local friend recommended it. When I was sent the guidelines by the group leader, I remember thinking that she was a little intense, but nothing particularly stuck out in terms of the type of group I was entering. Now when I go back and read it, it's so clear, but to novice me in the first week of parenting it just sounded like a group of moms in my city. What I didn't know is that when you move into one camp, you find friends, companionship, and help in navigating through parenthood... that's the really great part of a group like this. The less desirable thing that comes with planting your flag in one camp or another (at least in my opinion) is that you find a lot of women talking about how "the others" are misguided at best, and bad parents at worst. Really!?!?!

The group I joined believes in "gentle parenting" and apparently that means things like gentle discipline, extended breastfeeding, baby wearing, co-sleeping, and low intervention birth. The truth of the matter is that this is probably not the right group for me. I do believe in gentle discipline, but extended breastfeeding to me would mean a year and I get the feeling that's not what we're talking about here (not to mention, I'm not breastfeeding at all. See above). I do think baby wearing is nice, but use my stroller just as much. I don't want to co-sleep at all. I've never wanted to, but now that I have a squirmy, hot, grunty baby, co-sleeping sounds like hell. And low intervention births? Yeah, when I was a teenager watching a thousand episodes of A Baby Story, a warm bath, bouncy ball, soft music, and massage looked glorious, but the me who has lived through four years of infertility? Yeah, she'd be going with the absolute safest means necessary with every doctor on call or present in the room. Let's just go ahead and have an entire hospital staff on call and waiting just outside the birthing suite in a state of the art hospital with a Level Four NICU team standing by. That's how we'll roll if we ever birth a baby. So admittedly, I don't really agree with everything (or even half) or what's being said in the group, but it's been enlightening (and disheartening) to see the conversations that take place in this private group.

In one situation, a mom, who to me sounded like a first time mom, struggling with a fussy baby, and desperate for sleep, posted asking if anyone had experience with Babywise. I doubt she knew the flood gates that she would open with those few words, but she was all but crucified. It got so heated that the leader had to cut the comments off (which then pissed more people off). The behavior of grown women was so absurd all because a fellow mom asked a simple question. I felt absolutely awful for this mom. I'm sure she just didn't understand that to this group "Babywise" is the exact opposite of "gentle parenting" as many of the women in the group align the practice of cry it out with child abuse. In my opinion, that's a gross over simplification and generalization. I know a lot of moms who have used the teachings in Babywise and all of them are rock stars. Not one of them is abusive. None of them allowed their babies to become dehydrated for the sake of keeping a schedule. They all have happy, healthy children. Calling these friends abusive parents without even knowing them simply because they chose to allow their four month old baby to fuss in his crib for half an hour would be like calling baby wearing moms abusive for risking their child's muscle and bone development by wearing them too much.

Similac made a cute, satirical commercial about a real serious issue to me. Moms are drawing lines left and right and claiming with extreme passion and authority that THIS is the way to parent. The issues are wide and deep and ever so divisive. Everything from traditional weaning vs baby led weaning (or never weaning) to cloth diapering vs disposable diapering. And holy moly, don't, for the love of God, mention stay at home moms vs working moms. Just about every parenting decision appears to be reason enough to go to war if you find someone who does things differently than you. It's frustrating. As a woman, and now a mom, I want us to be better than this.

Truth be told, if I could parent any way I wanted to and everything I tired worked (ha), I'd wear my baby for ease and comfort, but I'd still have and use a stroller because OMG my back and have mercy- boob sweat. I'd breastfeed my baby for nutrition, but also for the lack of a billion bottles to clean. I'd work part time, maybe 3-4 hours a day, enough to allow me to feel productive and have adult interaction while allowing my baby to socialize, and also giving me the freedom to spend more time with my baby (and get more done at home). I'd hold and snuggle my baby for hours everyday, because the snuggly baby doesn't last nearly long enough. I'd have a loose schedule, one that allowed for variation and freedom to go and do, while still helping me predict the day and keep order. I'd have my baby sleep in his own room in his crib, as co-sleeping scares the dickens out of me, and room sharing means tons of baby junk all over my room, and crappy, disjointed sleep for me. I'd let my baby have a paci because self soothing is important to me. I'd cloth diaper because yay Mother Earth and yay my wallet, but I'd also hire someone to clean my house every few weeks because laundry is a full time job. I'm not one type of mother. I feel free to pick and choose the things that I enjoy and that help me be a better mom. 

In general, I think moms are doing the best that they can. Parenting is hard in every stage of life. I have three thoughts on why moms react and behave antagonistically towards one another. First, I think many moms are looking for validation. They want to feel good about the choices they make. When someone chooses differently than they do, they can feel defensive, but really they are just feeling unsure of themselves. I'm guilty of this one. I don't typically respond at all, but I've caught myself numerous times feeling defensive of why I've made choice X and not Y. My second hypothesis is that moms over-zealously want to share what worked for them. They want it to come across as helpful advice, but we all know that "helpful" advice, be that on parenting or infertility is rarely helpful. A good rule of thumb is if the person didn't specifically ask for advice, they are probably not seeking yours. And lastly, some moms are unfortunately just jerks. They are mean, spiteful, and use harsh words towards other moms out of a sense of power and authority. Let's be real. Moms are people first, and in every people groups, there are jerks. Moms are no exception. But in general, I think moms are trying their best; they just fail to appropriately love on one another, especially if that "other" has made different choices.

I for one am claiming now that I will not engage in the "mom wars." If you want to wear your baby twenty hours a day, cool... that's between you, your pediatrician, and your physical therapist. If you want to breastfeed in public until your kid is four, that's fine... I'll probably avoid you during snack time, but in between, we can hang out. If you want to feed your baby formula rather than breastmilk, go forth... many a baby has been fed by far weirder and worse things than a can of formula. Let's call these things what they are: parenting choices. It's not abuse. If we want to talk about abuse, all you need to do is turn on the news and you'll find plenty of real cases of child abuse to get fired up about. Let's decide to use our voices as females, mothers or not, for good. To bring awareness to things that we're passionate about, to help others in need, and to build one another up. There's enough out in the world trying to tear us down. We don't need to do that to one another. Let's agree to help a mom out before the baby stroller rolls away.

Two Truths

My first Mother's Day as a mom is in the books. I must admit, it was infinitely better than years past. I woke up to sweet smiles from my baby (after dealing with a vomtrocious dog at 5am). People were happy to hug my neck, look me in the eye, and finally whisper words they've longed to say. Yesterday was good. But the truth is, there are scars far too deep for Mother's Day to ever be this crazy joyful celebration. I know the pain too intimately to forget even if time does heal all wounds.

There seemed to be 1,000 articles and posts written about Mother's Day this year, and just about every one made me smile. I think it's good to acknowledge the pain, the hurt, the sadness of the day. It doesn't mean we stop celebrating. It means we hold two equally important truths, one in each hand as we approach Mother's Day each year. Truth one: mothers are worth celebrating. Truth two: that celebration, while good, and true, and valuable, will inevitably cause someone else pain. Either she's mourning the mother she never knew, or he's wishing for more time with his dying mother. She may be longing to have her mother back, or he may be hoping to heal an estranged relationship. She may be mourning the loss of her children, or longing to have them return home. For many the day hurts because the one they want to celebrate with isn't available. And then there's those who long to be mothers. Who approach the holiday with trepidation for the comments from others, for the bitterness and sadness that will inevitably arise. Mother's Day is good and mothers are worth celebrating, but that celebration will inevitably cause someone pain.

My first Mother's Day was good. I felt loved, celebrated, valued. But I also felt sadness. Sadness for the babies who came before, who had the opportunity to make me a mom, but in basic terms did not. Sadness for my friends who long for the touch of their mother just one more time. Sadness for Garrison's birth mother. While I'm happy to have my son, it is not lost on me that her loss is my gain. I felt sadness for friends who should be celebrating, but had lost their babies. And those who should have more little ones to celebrate with than they do. And finally, I felt sadness for my friends, my beautiful, beautiful friends who are still in the trenches of infertility or reoccurring pregnancy loss. This day can be so beautiful is you've never known loss, if you have and love your mother, if all of your children are living. But it can also be an incredibly painful day, one that only your bed, a box of chocolate, and the promise of a new day can relieve.

As I said, I read many articles as the day approached, and I think this quote from Melanie Dale at Unexpected summed it up best: "And so there’s the tension. Of wild partying in the Mommy Club and intense grieving over the ones experiencing the pain that I remember too well. And I can’t and won’t resolve the tension, but instead acknowledge them both. I will woo-hoo and weep for all the women." I felt that tension throughout the day. Even within the infertility community there is this tension. For every new woman who slips into the trenches, someone is climbing out. It is good and noble to celebrate those who finally crawl out, while recognizing the pain of those who slip in.

That's it, that's the way we approach and handle Mother's Day each year… dancing with wild abandon for those who get the honor of the title mom, because an honor it is. But in the same moment, it's bowing our heads and turning our faces to see those who are hurting. Melanie closes with this, "while woo-hooing the precious moms I adore, I intercede for the barren with prayers to a God I don’t understand. I exchange knowing gazes and nod my head with respect. The wound is healed, but the scar is gargantuan." For the mamas on the other side of infertility, can I get an "amen"? My wound is far from healed, but I can see that one day it will be… but that scar, it's never going away.

So to those for whom Mother's Day is time of celebration, I hope you felt loved and valued for the handwork that is mothering. I hope you got extra sleep, sweet cards, flowers, and sloppy kisses because you deserve it. And for those who view Mother's Day with fear and sadness, I hope your day past uneventfully, whether in bed with the covers over your head, or out in the sunshine with too many things to keep you busy. But most importantly I hope you felt seen because your pain is valid and real.

Fear and Guilt

Well first of all I feel like I've got to get a few things out of the way. First, thank you all for the love and support as we welcome home our son in the most unexpected way. It's been two full weeks since we met, and everyday just gets better. I know for many of you reading this your heart still hurts. Your arms ache for a son or daughter of your own. Believe me friends, I still remember, so thank you for your love, encouraging words, and sweet gifts in a time where you yourself are not rejoicing. We continue to feel so loved. Secondly, as the last few weeks have been an absolute whirlwind, I'm sure some of you are confused... Since when does Amanda have a son? Don't worry, I think those same things everyday. You can get caught up on the story here and here.

You guys, mom guilt is real. I hadn't even met my son when I first felt guilty. The Friday night that we told the agency we were coming down for him, was a restless night. Sam was out of town trying to be responsible and focus on the continuing education course that his employer had already purchased. Anytime Sam's gone, my sleep suffers, but this night I had quite a bit to think about. I finally went to sleep only to wake up feeling miserably guilty and devastated that my son wouldn't be breastfed. This is in no way a statement for or against breastfeeding. I actually didn't realize I felt so strongly about breastfeeding until that moment. I had done a lot of research and intended to induce lactation if I had four or more weeks notice, but I knew (or at least I thought I knew) that sometimes breastfeeding is just not an option in adoption. And truthfully, a large part of my desire to breastfeed was for bonding and attachment. But that night I woke up and just felt so insanely guilty that I couldn't breastfeed this precious little boy. 

I still feel guilty about it. Just about every healthcare professional has recommended breastmilk for my little guy for one reason or another. Thankfully my cousin had a baby just a few days after he was born and she has donated some, but I still feel guilty that I, his mom, has to rely on someone else to provide for him. Honestly, it's probably a pride thing more than anything else. I've slowly come to see that this is just one of 10,000 things that I will probably feel guilty for over the next 20 or so years. 

Another thing that I'm coming to terms with is that motherhood is full of fears, or at least my experience is. There's obviously the very real possibility that the birth father could still come forward, and if I think on it too long, that fear is crippling. In true ignorance is bliss fashion, I generally don't think about it. But there are plenty of other fears that I do think about. I think most new moms worry if their babies are breathing. I'm no different. In fact, coming out of the NICU may be worse. In the NICU I had a monitor to tell me his heart rate, breathing rate, and oxygen levels. I literally sat for hours watching the green, yellow, and blue lines. Some times those lines were really scary. Alarms would go off. Nurses would come check on him. Now we're off the monitors and there's nothing to tell me if his heart rate is too high, or, more likely, if his oxygen levels are dangerously low. 

In addition to normal new mom fears like "is he breathing," "is he eating enough," or "is he in pain," I keep having reoccurring nightmares where he dies in some awful way. When we were in the hotel, I dreamed the hotel caught on fire and we were trapped inside. The firemen couldn't get to our window so they screamed that I should toss him. You can imagine what happened, I'm sure. I also regularly have images flash through my head of tripping, dropping him, falling on him, etc. I've watched his little head bust open on the concrete in my mind so many times.

In the midst of my self doubt, guilt, and fears, I'm learning a lot, not the least of which is one handed typing. I'm also learning to love and trust in whole new ways. A sweet friend shared this with me, and I'm finding it to be a great reminder every day. She said, "God loves and cares for him even more than you and Sam do and will take care of him." Thankful that that is true. The Lord promises that he knew my little guy long before I even knew he existed, and He has loved him well.

That's all that I can type with two fingers today, except that I'll add this: my dear, sweet friend A found out last Thursday that her fifth transfer failed. She is now out of frozen embryos, which is completely heartbreaking! She is also preparing to switch clinics which is incredibly overwhelming! Do me a favor and stop by her blog and give her some love and support. She's a one in a million and I'm rooting for her until she brings her baby home!

Now that THAT'S Over

Whew! Glad that's over. I was not looking forward to this Mother's Day at all, like at all. In the past, Mother's Day has been mostly okay. I've never had a day where I just cried all day or felt so miserable that I actually had reason to dread the day, but I was. I was really, really dreading it. I woke up Sunday morning thinking, "I really don't want to do this." This being go to church, smile, say "Happy Mother's Day" 2.4 billion times, and hug other people's kids. But I'm the class leader of the best, most awesome, coolest little two year olds three year olds I know, so skipping and calling out on such a big day was not an option.

Thankfully, it wasn't all that bad. I did have a small breakdown while getting ready. The sadness just overwhelmed me while applying eyeshadow, which is obviously a really awful moment for tears. I wasn't sad for me, I was sad for my babies. Five. That's how many babies I've lost. Now granted, I've never seen a heartbeat flutter on the ultrasound screen, I've never heard the thump/chug sound. Hell, I've never even made it to the third beta, but there have been five embryos with a little bit of me inside of them... they were my babies... and now they're dead. I was simply overwhelmed with sadness that my babies keep dying. I felt like the ultimate failure as a mom. My eggs are most likely to blame. It is my contribution to them that's killing them... at least that's how it felt in that moment. Not only do I not have the ability to provide for them and care for them like a mother should, but I am the reason they die... in other words, I'm killing my babies. Really happy, cheerful thoughts for 7:30am on Mother's Day.

I finally pulled myself together, cleaned the goop and tear tracks from under my eyes, and decided further worry with eye makeup was just dumb... it was obviously going to be one of those days. But you know what, that was the end of it. It was really the last moment of "woe is me" for the day. So a little piece of advice: if by chance Mother's Day is your personal form of torture, buy a house three days before.Yep, It's a sure fire way to be waaayyyyyy  too busy to even know what day of the week it is, let alone the specifics of the holiday calendar. After serving at church, we hightailed it out of there and headed to our home away from home (aka Home Depot) and the rest of the day was a blur. There were a few moments in which I thought of friends who were probably having a rough day, but for the most part, I was covered in putty, dust, paint and simply far too busy to wallow in self pity.

So hooray for that! Mother's Day 2014 is over and it's 362 days until the next one. And in the mean time, I've got 2.3459 billion things to do at our new house! (hopefully, those things will be done in 17 days, rather than 362 because that's how long we have to move) Without further adieu, the Greavu home.

 

 

Hooray! Moments after signing our names 10,000 times! It's official!

I promise to show pictures once we're a bit more settled. Currently, there's a cloud of dust so thick you can hardly see your feet. It's doing wonderful things for my lungs, let me tell you. If I'm missing in action over the next few weeks 17 days just know that I love you all bunches but I'm hard at work doing home ownery things like scraping popcorn ceilings and painting cabinets.

Good at Heart

So there was this mild, small, casual affair called graduation last week… you're probably wondering when I'm going to blog about that. Well it's not today. Nope, today I'm going to remind us all that people are good. I might get to that little thing called graduation tomorrow.

Sometimes I forget that people are actually nice. It's a flaw of mine. Always has been. I tend to DESPERATELY love my people, but others…ehhhh. The good thing is that if you become one of my people, I'll bend over backwards to help you, love you, show you I care, etc. The bad news is that I often assume the worst about others. And infertility has not made this any better. Infertility opens up opportunities for people to say lots of incredibly hurtful, extremely painful, exceptionally inconsiderate things to you… but here's the thing, I think 99% of the time, it's out of ignorance. What's my evidence? Mother's Day.

You guys, Mother's Day was really incredible. Particularly my time at my church. I won't say I was dreading it, but I'd hyped myself up to "grin and bear it" as you might say. But oh my gosh, I received so many hugs! And not just a little side hug, not just a pat on the back, but real honest, "I'm not letting go first" kinds of hugs! I was totally prepared to fight back tears all day, but not from people being crazy nice to me! I guess word is spreading through my toddler's classroom. Or maybe parents google their kid's class leader's name? I don't know how they found out, but so many momma's grabbed my hand in the midst of the insanity that is pick-up to say a quick "I'm praying for you". I was fighting tears all morning. It was awesome! And I know lots of infertiles blogged about skipping church or hating to attend church on Mother's Day because it's so gosh darn hard to sit there when the preacher rains love and affection on all the mom's… I'm not going to say that none of that is hard. It's definitely hard. But you guys, my preacher took the time to discuss the fact that Mother's Day is hard for lots of people for various reasons… he even went so far as to comment about those of us who are living with empty arms. To say I was touched would be an understatement.

And I'm not the only person to have had a Mother's Day turn out quite different than anticipated. Erika did too! Erika shared with me that she probably received more cards from friends than most moms. So sweet! So with those two conclusive pieces of evidence, I've determined that people, even abundantly fertile people, are good, kind, caring, etc. I think once people know, once they begin to understand, once they grasp the pain, once they comprehend the do's and don'ts, I think they really want to help. I honestly believe that silence is often easier for people. Being on the receiving end of the silence, or worse the heartless comments, often allows me to stew in my bitterness. I get to use it as further evidence that "fertiles are heartless" or whatever the current feeling is. But when people go out of their way to love on me on a day that's all about them… I'm just blown away.

So to my fertile friends, and well, just all my non-infertile friends (is that a double negative?), I'd encourage you to keep it up. And not just for me (though I do love your comments, words of encouragement, hugs, etc), but for anyone you know who might be struggling with infertility. Believe me, you will rock their world with a simple card or a quick message.

And to my infertile friends, I would challenge you with this: make yourself open and available to the kindness of others. I totally get that some days, the best treatment for what ails us is the bed with the covers over our heads and a box of chocolates. But I also think that we often isolate ourselves out of fear of being hurt. For those of you who are open with others about your infertility… allow them to love on you. And for those of you who are not public with your struggles, for whatever reason, I would encourage you to find someone, anyone, to share your story with beyond your spouse and mom. We all might just be surprised once in a while by the pure goodness of others.

And to all of my friends who sent me sweet words to get me through the day… Your kindness and prayers are such a blessing to me in this difficult time! Thank you all for your excitement and enthusiasm about IUI #4 and Operation Get Amanda Pregnant!

It's Not About Me

Despite what I said yesterday, I'm trying my very best to recognize that today is not about me. It might be someday, but today, this year, it's not about me. So in light of that:

Jesus,

When my heart is hurting and my eyes are burning,

give me strength.

When my thoughts are full of envy, anger, and sorrow,

give me grace.

When I want to hide under the covers and sleep this day away,

let me be your hands.

When no one notices my pain, when no one shares my grief,

allow me to be a light.

Jesus, help me make this day, not about me, but all about you.

Radiate your love though me, because I am not big enough, 

strong enough, or good enough to do it without you.

That's my prayer today. My will alone will not see me through this day, so I'm asking Him to intervene and fill in the gaps where I fail. In the moments where my smiles are forced and my legs are weak, I'm asking Him to step in. I will see so many mothers today, and I do not want each conversation or glance to tear me apart inside… so I'm asking Him to fill me up today with love, peace, patience, and a whole lot of grace.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mommas out there. May you feel loved today.

A special Happy Mother's Day to my momma (the greatest) and both of my mothers-in-law! 

And to my friends with heavy hearts and empty arms: I am abiding with you today. I carry you all heavy on my heart. BIG HUGS!!

Not in the Club

There is a club and I'm not a part of it. I keep sending in my application, but I keep getting rejected over, and over, and over again. It's a pretty cool club. If it wasn't, I would have given up and said screw it quite a while ago. The thing is, it's not a club you belong to based on merit. You can't win, or buy, you can't plead or earn your way into the club. Believe me, I've tried. No. Admittance into the club comes from one thing: You have to be a mom.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. As you can imagine, this day takes on a whole new meaning for infertiles. Not being a mother, I don't know how important this day is to moms, but I have to imagine that it becomes more important to many infertile women than it does to moms. To infertile women, it becomes this symbolic day of our failures. Not only are we not mothers, but unlike a zillion of the moms who just "happened" to become one, we've been working at it, and FAILING at it for a really long time.

In honor of the day, I encourage you, mother or not, infertile or not, to go read my friend Erika's post. She wrote it in honor of Mother's Day 2012, and I believe it still rings true for her today. So I'll wait, go read it now.

No really, this won't make any sense unless you read it. Go read it now.

Done? Great.

Infertiles everywhere are drying their eyes. Erika has a way with words, and this one makes me cry every time I read it.

If you aren't infertile, but you aren't a mom either, I hope that this, if nothing else, gives you a tiny glimpse, a peak through the window, into what life as an infertile woman is like. If you are the friend of an infertile, maybe this explains some of the erratic, irrational behavior. Heck, maybe this encourages you to make a baby today because you don't want to be me or Erika. Regardless, I hope that this helps in some way.

If your a mom, I imagine there's some push-back to this. I read the comments from moms to Erika's post both at the original publish date and when she reposted in December. I know that some moms don't appreciate the "be thankful" message. And I get that. There are some moments, whatever your struggle is, that you just want to rant. Complaining to someone, anyone, makes you feel better. I get that. However, I think the idea to be thankful, even in the storm is applicable to all of us.

I imagine it like this: It's recently become fashionable to complain about something, but then say or write "first world problems". Meaning, I know that what I'm complaining about is a luxury to 90% of the world. I'm griping about the disproportionate mix of espresso to syrup in my Starbucks latte, while the 90% would just like clean drinking water. Saying "first world problems" A- allows you to still complain and B- is a subtle reminder to yourself that you've still got it pretty good.

Erika's letter to new moms isn't a diatribe in which she says that in your exhausted, sleep deprived, shirt stained existence you can never complain or ask for help. It's not that. What she is drawing your attention to is the fact that messy or not, stinky or not, grouchy or not, your child (children) are a blessing. Period. End of story. You have been blessed. So in the quite of that 3am feeding when all you want it sleep, or in the midst or your child's embarrassing public temper tantrum, give thanks that you are the mother to a miracle. Because, let me tell you, the other side of this, the side where you swear you would stay up for five days straight if you could just hold your baby isn't so awesome either.

So in the midst of the flowers and cards and spa days tomorrow, while you are being pampered (as you should) take a moment to be grateful for what you have been given.