What Thanksgiving means to me

I remember wanting a baby so badly -- almost irrationally -- and the absent second line blankly mocking me. I remember feeling a twinge in Target or at work or in bed and thinking, Oh, what if I'm pregnant! I wasn't. I wrote a post in my head about getting knocked up on our honeymoon. I wouldn't get pregnant for another 11 months. I remember being sick in October 2007, really, nauseously sick, and thinking, I'm pregnant, I have to be. Although I can't be BECAUSE IT IS PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE but I MUST be. I must be. I remember the first negative test* and the first Clomid prescription (and the second and third) and all the friends who called with their own good news and the juxtaposition between, Oh god, you're going to be a good mom and Oh god, I want to be a mom, too. I remember secretly smiling one day in a staff meeting because I was oh so sure I was knocked up and we were going to have a Christmas baby and WHAT FUN, ANOTHER CAPRICORN! We have an Aquarius.

It took us one solid year from the time we tossed the birth control pills out the window and giggled over our decision to become parents to the time the second line finally, finally, finally appeared.

One year.

I consider us lucky.

For others it takes many years. It takes thousands of dollars. It takes their sense of optimism and chunks of their soul and their relationships, too. We have a baby. We got our dream. We're one of the lucky couples who got through the tough stuff relatively unscathed and were handed a healthy, baby boy. (Damn, boys are fun.)

But I still remember. I remember how hard it is to walk around with your hand on your belly, wishing, praying, hoping there's something beneath that hand. I remember the silly, crazy fears that the Coke I drank or the brisk walk I took or the belly-sleeping the night before would hurt my mom chances. I remember all the wild, unreasonable thoughts. I remember drowning the pain and writing love letters to a baby who didn't exist. I remember name hunting and rhetorical-question asking and seething envy when a pregnant woman walked by. 

I promised myself I'd never forget, and I haven't.

If you are standing now where I was standing then, I have this to say:

You have every right to be irrational. You have every right to glare at the people who tell you to take naps! and vacation! and just enjoy your time together! because it's not as if you aren't doing all that, but wanting to be a mother trumps all that, it just does. It's OK to get drunk off cheap champagne because you can and you hate that you can and you want to smack that choice in the face. It's OK to look at sex as a means to an end. It won't always be but it's OK that for now, it is. (Oh man, the stories I could tell.) It's OK that you buy baby clothes and shove them into the back of your closet. It's OK to overcompensate with friends because it's either that or scream and sometimes screaming doesn't make your friends like you much. What I'm trying to say to you is that whatever you're doing or feeling is OK, no matter how uncomfortable those things make the people around you. You should feel whatever you're feeling. The women who went before you remember, and we're here if you need to talk. We think you'll be a fantastic, beautiful, just-perfect mother. We can't wait to see you fill that role.

We also know that saying "just you wait!" and "it'll happen when you least expect it!" is hurtful and sometimes good intentions don't feel good.

We remember, and sometimes the only thing real and honest to say is this:

It sucks, it really, really sucks.

It won't always.

**************

*Two years ago, on Thanksgiving, I took my first pregnancy test, certain it'd be positive. It wasn't. I remember swallowing the turkey-and-cranberry ravioli I made later that day (surprisingly tasty!), thinking, "I guess I can have wine, too." Then I cried. Thanksgiving will always remind me of our journey to meet Kyle, and no matter how beautiful motherhood is, I still remember the difficult journey to get here. I've always been disappointed with women who disregard the trying-to-conceive community once they're no longer a part of it.

Comments

[Shauna]

I seriously could not have said it better myself! Me and my husband went through hell adopting two sons, and that feeling diminishes so much but will never go away. We are now trying for a baby and am really feeling it again now, not that it is the same stuff as adoption, but isn't that feeling of wanting a baby SO bad the same no matter what?

[Drew]

The hardest part was when my really good friend came and told me she was pregnant. "If you got pregnant too, we could do so many fun things together during our maternity leaves," she told me not knowing we were already trying. It took us almost a year from that day before the second line showed up. A year that won't just go away now that we have our baby girl. That year will forever stay in my memory as the year of trying and trying and trying and crying and crying and crying.

We don't even do Thanksgiving, but this year I am grateful for the sleepness nights and the worries and all the tough things that comes with being the mother of the sweetest baby girl. Awfully grateful.

[Heather]

Man. In the 14 months that followed my decision to throw my birth control pills away, some 20-odd of my friends, co-workers and acquaintances got pregnant, I had three miscarriages, and lost my marriage along the way. I will never forget how it feels, either. Even now, now that I *AM* on my journey to becoming a mother...I remember so vividly how it felt that I DREADED telling two of my college friends, because they are both trying, and one just had a failed in vitro. DREADED. That pain was still so real. The jealousy, the overwhelming fear of, "What if my body just never ever works the way it's supposed to? What will I do?", the heart-wrenching realization that I had a partner that would never understand the pain I felt, and would always judge me for being jealous and crying and "thinking it's a race". I, too, am very, very thankful this Thanksgiving, and really looking forward to being able to say, "I AM pregnant" when I LOOK pregnant after gorging myself!!!!

P.S. I am now OBSESSED with that ravioli recipe!!!

[Christina]

This may seem odd but I find this post to be beautiful.
It took us 7 months with Nathan, no meds just a ton of highs and the lowest of lows- the two week wait to nowhere. The tears, the constant obsessing, OH A TWINGE- please, I did it all, I couldn't help it. It was who I was for that time, all I could thing about. Sadly, it is so normal. And it does suck, and hurt and blow. And in the "end" I could never forget the path- never.
Thanks for writing this, I really loved it.

[ellbee]

Thank you.

As my husband and I approach that one-year mark and that second line obstinantly refuses to show up, I take comfort in your words. Pretty sure I've commented about this before, but since we're still "in the closet" about our attempts and failures, it feels good to be able to let it out. Cycle day 6, and I have high hopes for this month... 12th times a charm, right?

[Jen L.]

Fantastic post! My best friend is due with her own little miracle in late December after a 2-year love/hate relationship with Clomid. I remember hearing so many of the same things come out of her mouth while they were trying to get pregnant. I'm so glad you got your sweet Kyle. Thanks for sharing your story. It's going to help someone out there.

[Angella]

Perfectly said, Jennie. Perfectly said.

[Katy]

Thank you for writing this.

[Sara @ Belle Plaine]

Thank you. I also will never forget the year it took us to get pregnant with Noah and all the heartache I felt each time I saw one line instead of two. Now that we're beginning to think about Baby #2 I'm fearful of going through it all again. It's painful whether it takes 2 months or 2 years.

[Nat The Fat Rat]

Beautiful. Oh my gosh this rang true for me. We are at the one year six month mark of all of this, exactly. You nailed it. A friend emialed me and recommended this post, and it was just what I needed today. LOVELY.