Its Mother’s Day weekend, and I have a baby now. I love being a mother to our boy. I think he’s perfect. Nothing about our journey has been easy. I am his favorite person in the world (to be fair, I have the snacks). He … Continue reading Hello from the (M)other Side
An attempt at explaining the deep significance behind our son’s name
We’re just volunteering to be head sheep of this weird little herd in our area, with every intention of pointing to our Shepherd.
Its been a minute, I know.
The last post was nearly 4 months ago, when we heard a heartbeat that didn’t belong to either one of us, but then again sort of did.
I’ve struggled a lot with what this blog and our story would look like once we got our happy answer.
It been a fantastically wonderful difficult hard beautiful gross confusing 4 months.
As a quick update:
We’re having a boy. His name is Truitt Charles Bush. More on his name in another post, because that’s a meaty one.
Our boy is big, healthy, active, and we already see ourselves in him.
I know, this may sound a little ridiculous and probably makes me look extremely hard to please. It is what it is.
Being pregnant is hard. Harder than I was prepared for. If it were just the physicality of it, I’d probably not post about it.
Physically, I am mostly fine. My body, however, was not “made for this” as so many crunchy folks like to say. No judgement to the crunchy, i consider myself partially crunchy (as partially crunchy as one can be after taking the amount of hormones I did and excising weird stuff off my innards with laser beams). If one more person looks at me and says “your body knows what to do!” I am going to give a very detailed explanation of how NO my body DOES NOT know what to do, it is VERY CONFUSED. There is another HUMAN in there.
My migraines are now peaking at 5-6 days a week. I am still able to work full time by keeping a watchful eye on the weather, my sleep schedule (lol at sleeping while pregnant, amirite?) and medicating (safely) often. I am on a strict no-Botox diet until Truitt says hello from the outside (we listen to a lot of Adele, I’m not sorry), and since I’m bellybutton deep into the second trimester, it doesn’t look like they are letting up any time soon. That’s difficult for me, because I feel like a flake. Beyond work, I can’t make a lot of commitments, because having migraines and hurting almost constantly is exhausting.
Beyond that and some scar tissue induced round ligament spasms, I’m a pretty perky prego.
Mentally, I’ve been a mess.
“WHY?! You’re pregnant! It worked the FIRST TIME!”
I know, it usually doesn’t.
“This is exactly what you’ve been praying for, working for, trying so hard for!”
“You must be so EXCITED!”
No doubt about it. The English language is not adequate enough to explain how we feel.
But why us?
I decided to go public with our journey because I didn’t really know anyone who’d been through this. I’d found some random faceless women on some message boards and online groups, and I’m thankful for them. But I thought surely someone I know has done this, been through this. And then I thought maybe I/we could be that someone that someone knew, when they dealt with this. There had to be others. I wanted to find the others that I already knew I knew, I just didn’t know.
Boy, did we.
We have been overwhelmed with the echoes of “me too” we have gotten after going public. People who have told us publicly and in confidence. People who are searching for community. Families who are actively dealing with this hurt and struggle and journey and understand the hardship and just get it on a level that no one else can.
We have found so many great confidants in this journey. People who are public with their journey, people who are not. Several have reached out to us, as we are a bit ahead of them in the journey, just as we reached out to a few couples who have been instrumental in our own journey.
We were made for community. Doing this alone is not healthy, I honestly don’t get how people do it. We need one another – we are good for each other. We would have been lost and overwhelmed without this little community that we scrounged up from the depths of the internet and high school and and friends of friends of friends.
In this community, not everyone wins. Not everyone has the happy ending they set out to find, especially not on the first try.
Sweet friends that I knew that I knew (I just didn’t know) who are dealing with this are seeing more loss, failed cycles, bad news. My heart is so broken for them.
They didn’t get to/haven’t yet heard their heart beat. Or they heard their heart beat, and then have experience the death of their baby.
My heart hurts. A lot.
I feel so guilty that it worked for us. Like I should maybe hide my joy and excitement and annoyance with migraines and pregnancy discomfort because how dare I? These friends still hold such a special place in my heart, and I want so much to follow their journey, hold their hand, be a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear.
But I am pregnant shoulder. My ears still hear my baby’s heart beat. My belly feels his kicks. He is still “mine”, for now.
I don’t have one. This post doesn’t really resolve into a great epiphany of understanding and enlightenment.
I don’t have it figured out. I don’t know that I ever will.
I know that we are not pregnant because I ate enough pineapple, or took the right drugs at just the right time, or prayed hard enough with just enough faith. I am pregnant with a healthy baby boy because of God designed science, and because God has a plan for this person. It has nothing to do with me. It is for His glory alone.
We are living in a weird gray area. Yes, both Mister and I. This is a family journey, not a female journey.
We are over the moon excited about our son. We have a son. I feel him move so much, he keeps me awake, he’s sassy and possibly left handed. He parties all night and is a total grouch like his Daddy at early morning ultrasounds. He is soothed and calmed down by listening to Mister snore. Yes. Snore.
Pregnancy is what we’ve gone through hell and high water to achieve. I am so excited I get to experience it, I love it. I thought it may never happen for us, for me.
Its gross and weird and sometimes it sucks and is hard and it hurts, a lot. The anxiety we’ve both experienced during our short time with our boy is overwhelming, and he’s not even “here” yet.
We are broken over those who are still struggling. When we see a friend get told “I’m sorry…”, again. When another family learns that IUI isn’t enough. When they don’t know why its not working. When they don’t know what to do next. When someone else tells them to “just relax” or “quit thinking about it” or “have enough faith.”
This community is still so important to us. We are still very much a part of it. We are attempting, again, a support group of sorts, beginning next month. I have mixed feelings about leading a group of struggling families as a big ole pregnant lady. This is too important to us to ignore just because we have our baby growing, but its something that must be handled with a grace and dignity I haven’t quite figured out yet in order to be sensitive and understanding to others.
We are overjoyed. We are anxious. We are broken. We are thankful. We are conflicted.
We are gray.
From one specialty clinic to another. Science and God are blowing my mind.
Where embryos and Good Friday meet.
Where Dr. Seuss and Endometriosis Awareness Month meet.