I am home all day, shouldn’t I have plenty of time to write? It seems that when I postpone this time it gets waylaid to online shopping at Baby Gap-about all I have the brain power for some days. So it is 5:47am- not so obscene a time to be up and thinking, since I was up and showered for school by this time most days in my old life. Even this exercise is done within earshot of the baby monitor-a beacon of peaceful calm or of cacophonous mayhem, making every word I write a rushed luxury or blatant evidence of neglect (Note: After writing this I did go up to find poor Charlie covered in spit up. This picture was taken just a few moments afterwards. He forgives me much faster than I forgive myself!) Either way, I am still glad to be here in the moments before sunrise to record the thoughts running around my head like pennies in a coke can or wind through the trees-any overused simile will suffice.
“How’s it going,” is asked of us frequently and I often reply that it is going exactly the way the inquisitors think it is going. In fact, it is going quite the way I expected it would, with a few exceptions. One thing I thought about while I was pregnant was the amount of attention that multiples bring when out in public. In reality it is much more attention than I expected. While food shopping, we are stopped at least once per aisle-sometimes with just an “Aww, so cute,” but more often with a barrage of questions about our stats, followed by a personal story from the interviewer regarding their experience with multiples. Within one shopping excursion I met two people who were a twin, three people who always wanted twins and someone who had a friend who had quadruplets-all of whom were autistic-all this before I even left the meat department.
One major downside to this kind of attention (besides that it takes me forever to food shop!) is that my social skills could use some work. A seven month pregnancy of limited social activity, followed by the three month daily pilgrimage to the NICU, followed by baby boot-camp at home, has left me a little shell shocked, tongue tied, and perhaps a little rude. But mostly I am distracted by the feather tickling the back of my neck that whispers, “There were supposed to be three.” While pregnant, I was so hung up about how I would handle the obvious evidence of IVF that triplets bring-the idea that everyone would know my fertility troubles the second they caught sight of that triplet stroller. Ironically, my concern about my public pride has been replaced by a private pain anytime someone asks, “twins?” and I nod in agreement, too overwhelmed by a sense of betrayal to answer aloud. This sense of disloyalty to that lost baby creeps in anytime things are challenging, joyful, calm, hectic. It hangs around like San Francisco fog (something I have only experienced once but I am a little simile happy today). It clears suddenly and brings the lazy sunshine of gratitude for the things that I have, but when it lingers too long it can ruin even the best day. I guess it may always be that way-happy moments slightly tainted by loss but then made happier by an overwhelming sense of grace. It does make me live in a very wide a wake way-something hard to do on just a few hours sleep. So we continue to make our public appearances, each day appearing and feeling a little stronger.
“How’s it going,” is asked of us frequently and I often reply that it is going exactly the way the inquisitors think it is going. In fact, it is going quite the way I expected it would, with a few exceptions. One thing I thought about while I was pregnant was the amount of attention that multiples bring when out in public. In reality it is much more attention than I expected. While food shopping, we are stopped at least once per aisle-sometimes with just an “Aww, so cute,” but more often with a barrage of questions about our stats, followed by a personal story from the interviewer regarding their experience with multiples. Within one shopping excursion I met two people who were a twin, three people who always wanted twins and someone who had a friend who had quadruplets-all of whom were autistic-all this before I even left the meat department.
One major downside to this kind of attention (besides that it takes me forever to food shop!) is that my social skills could use some work. A seven month pregnancy of limited social activity, followed by the three month daily pilgrimage to the NICU, followed by baby boot-camp at home, has left me a little shell shocked, tongue tied, and perhaps a little rude. But mostly I am distracted by the feather tickling the back of my neck that whispers, “There were supposed to be three.” While pregnant, I was so hung up about how I would handle the obvious evidence of IVF that triplets bring-the idea that everyone would know my fertility troubles the second they caught sight of that triplet stroller. Ironically, my concern about my public pride has been replaced by a private pain anytime someone asks, “twins?” and I nod in agreement, too overwhelmed by a sense of betrayal to answer aloud. This sense of disloyalty to that lost baby creeps in anytime things are challenging, joyful, calm, hectic. It hangs around like San Francisco fog (something I have only experienced once but I am a little simile happy today). It clears suddenly and brings the lazy sunshine of gratitude for the things that I have, but when it lingers too long it can ruin even the best day. I guess it may always be that way-happy moments slightly tainted by loss but then made happier by an overwhelming sense of grace. It does make me live in a very wide a wake way-something hard to do on just a few hours sleep. So we continue to make our public appearances, each day appearing and feeling a little stronger.
2 comments:
I do not know you and can not pretend to answer your post in a way I would a friend's. I know Bobby will forever be a part of your life and some days will take more courage than others. I suppose I just wanted to let you know your story has touched me and I think of you often.
Everyday I pray for you Amy and for Bryan for peace and comfort. Bobby will always be your little boy and my faith convinces me that we will see him in the life that will last forever. Until then, you will see him in Charlie's eyes and Nori's smile and feel incredible love for him always in your heart. Nonna
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