My very first blog ever was about what can happen in the span of one minute. That one minute changed my life in ways I could never even imagine at the time. I broke in that minute and remained broken for many minutes that followed.
One year ago today, a different minute changed my life. It it surprised and healed me. I wrote about it at the time although very few people knew what I was talking about. It was the minute we discovered that my pregnancy with George was viable.
I’ve gone back-and-forth about putting all this out there. It’s interesting how women internalize their struggles with fertility. There’s a shame to it that is ridiculous when you think about it. I kept it all to myself for a very long time. But looking down at the baby now in my arms, I want to shout from the rooftops that it can happen…for anyone.
Between McKenna and George, we desperately tried to get pregnant again. After our second loss, we started seeing a fertility specialist. After our third loss, he confirmed what my heart already knew: another baby would not be happening for us. Given all the test results he had in front of him, McKenna never should have been born. Between my poor egg quality and my age, a healthy pregnancy was the slimmest of possibilities. He encouraged us to dote on the child we had because she was probably our only miracle. I truly believe she was a gift from my Mom. He told us that we needed to be very prepared for the real possibility that another miracle may not be in the cards. The numbers he tossed out to us were heartbreaking.
Then a month later I found myself crying in a Mariano’s parking lot thinking about my grandma’s pancakes. I just knew I was pregnant but was certain it would end in tears as the last three had. It was the very first craving George threw my way.
We were scheduled for an early ultrasound a couple of weeks later. That one minute at 8:22am confirming a viable heartbeat changed our family forever. It was the first of many minutes of tears and smiles.
And tears and anger.
And tears and laughter.
And tears and more tears.
You get it. I was a hormonal 40 year old pregnant woman: tears were the norm.
The next 35 weeks were a whirlwind of emotions until George arrived. He was everything we hoped for and more. He is the happiest, most mellow, chatty baby in the world. We couldn’t love him more if we tried.
He’s our second miracle. Lightning can strike twice.
I am writing for the Two Writing Teachers March Writing Challenge