Wishing it was nostalgia

I stumbled upon a page for "Historic Photos & Prints of Breastfeeding" on facebook, fanned by a fabulous new mom, and I scrolled through each print or photo in complete fascination. Sure, I see plenty of breastfeeding women on a very regular basis, but these women are mostly nursing newborns. In these pictures, women are nursing older babies and toddlers, and it just looks so awesome to me. I read the comments of other fans, and while praising the moms in the images also reminisce about their own lovely breastfeeding past. And in that moment I wished I could reminisce too.

Breastfeeding was such a challenge for me. Dear son and I got off to a great start, as evidenced by his having the proper number of wet and soiled diapers in the first week, but shortly thereafter the balance shifted, and my supply could no longer meet his demand. And dear son did not hesitate to voice his displeasure. I gave all I could give him, until not a drop more could be squeezed, and it just wasn't sufficient to fill his belly. After 3 months of trying many different methods of increasing the supply, we stopped and our nursing relationship was over.

Looking at those pictures I wish I had been as blissed out as those moms. I wish I had been able to make it to older babyhood. I'm at peace with how my situation played out - I did the best I could, and no one could ask for more. It just looks like such a beautiful experience, holding your child close and providing such pure sustenance. But who knows? Maybe another baby will come into my life, and maybe breastfeeding will come much more easily that time around. But if not, I can still admire the women who are making excellent choices to give their children every thing they can.

Happy Birthday to Me!!

Hooray! Today is my birthday! And how have I enjoyed this incredibly beautiful day, with the sun shining brightly and the breeze blowing gently? Mostly hanging out with my lively son and doting hubby.

Dear husband is cooking my favorite comfort meal: barbecue chicken (which consists of boneless, skinless chicken breasts basted with barbecue sauce and baked), mashed potatoes and corn. Something about that combination of foods just warms my soul, and it's what I feel will hit the spot tonight.

I am so grateful to all of my dear friends who have done their best to make me feel special in the week leading up to my birthday. There has been roller derby, drinking with friends, chocolate, Irish goods, and good movies. Tomorrow we'll add a nice hike to the list. I feel so loved, so valued, so overwhelmingly blessed. I love the life I'm living so much.

Dark times teach us gratitude

After my last post, I received an outpouring of love and support from those I hold dear. Thank you all for reminding me that I am blessed and loved so greatly. It means more than you may ever know!

And so it's onwards and upwards for me. There is still the possibility in the back of my mind that we may, just may, try again in the future, but for now I'm focusing on being well in every way possible. I'm going to the Y at least 3-4 days a week, helping my body to feel good. I'm surrounding myself with amazing people who contribute to my emotional and mental well-being. Spending more time at home with my son has helped so much already. Less stress and more gratitude can only lead to positive things, and whether those positive things include a baby or not, I'm always up for happy change.

So thank you, particularly W.,C., N. and S., for lifting me up in my time of "need". I love you ladies so dearly, appreciate you more than I could ever tell you, and hope I can give back to you in the many ways you've given to me.

Here, here to a weekend of family and my first roller derby!

The Breaking Point

I reached it today, the point at which I couldn't hold my emotions in any longer. Women become pregnant on a regular basis, and most of the time, even after my losses, I'm OK with that. I can remain stoic, remember that this is the cycle of life and that everything happens for a reason. When a good friend told me last summer that she had "gone and gotten herself knocked up" with baby #2, she expected me to be sour, but I was not. I wasn't then and I most certainly am not now as I eagerly await this baby's delivery any day now. When my best friend announced her pregnancy me to me last fall, I expected to be angry and jealous, but I was far from it. Instead, I was filled with the need to be emotionally available to her, to nurture her as she prepared to parent a third child with a new partner in a new life. I thought I was doing just fine, accepting this course of events in stride and knowing that everything was in perfect order.

And then I found out today that another person that I work with will be expecting her third child in October, and I cried. I'm still crying. Not because I worry for this woman because she is an awesome mother with an awesome husband who will give this baby as fantastic of a home as they have their two girls. I'm crying for the dreams I had, for the hopes I held so dear and felt dashed with each miscarriage. I'm mourning my losses again, and I can't help but wonder when this will end.

My last loss was a year ago, and our last failed attempt was three months ago. I accepted that I might only ever parent my son, and I have been continually grateful for that blessing. Not a day goes by that I don't acknowledge how incredibly blessed I am to have such an amazing opportunity. Yet the dreams of what could have been still linger, and every now and then they overwhelm me and I can't help but cry.

I wish that I had only ever wished to parent one child, I wish that being a mom had not been so awesome, I wish that I were more career-oriented and focused on things outside my family. But the truth of the matter is I love being a mom and I live for my family. Doing so fulfills me in ways I never dreamed possible. It's not a sacrifice because I love it. And I just wish that I had the chance to do it again.