It’s overwhelming to reflect on these last few years. I say few years because, while my two years as a mother have been transformational and my focus of this post, I can never separate my experience of motherhood from my experience with infertility and loss. It would be like omitting the first chapters of a book–it wouldn’t make sense.
I met my baby when she was just a follicle, via ultrasound, in Dr. Angel’s office.
And prior to that I crossed oceans of grief and loss.
This is all part of our story.
And it’s all too much.
I can only glance at the 5,000 pictures I’ve taken of BG, because my heart feels like it will burst.
I can only briefly conjure memories–both euphoric and pitiful–from these past two years, because my heart begins to ache.
To yearn for those tender moments and exciting firsts I’ve shared with BG.
And to lament my experiences with PPA and and the myriad other ways in which I struggled as a new mother.
It’s confusing as hell.
These two years have been THE BEST years of my life.
And also the hardest. The most terrifying. The most physically taxing. And at times, the loneliest.
Oh, but the love I have for this kid.
She is everything to me and to Mr. MLACS.