An Anniversary of Sorts

On this day one year ago my whole life changed forever. January 1st, 2015- the day I found out baby Pigment existed. I won’t find it on any timehop though. The fragility of the teeny life inside me was too delicate to share. I’m sad now that I couldn’t allow myself to celebrate. We sat scared for months with baited breath willing this child to grow.

It wasn’t long before we clued our innermost circle in to the delicate dance of waiting and hoping. For that reason every time I spoke the words “I’m pregnant” it was followed by a tentative “but it’s early” and “let’s just wait and see”.
I went to the doctor to check progesterone and HCG levels every few days for two weeks. They put me on a twice daily dose of progesterone almost immediately. I felt certain to shouldn’t get too attached to this child.
After I began the progesterone they wanted me to come in to see how my levels had changed. I was waiting for that call when I attended a yoga retreat in the deep Appalachian mountains. No cell service. I ended up missing the call on the drive and couldn’t call back, leaving me an absolute wreck for a weekend I had intended to be for healing and peace. I journaled that weekend my worst fears. I wept with strangers and begged my body to hold onto this precious child.

The first trimester after a loss is excruciating. Every twinge is suspect. I hadn’t yet learned to trust my body to alert me if something was amiss and so there I sat, on the edge of my seat, for three whole months.

We first saw baby Pigment at 8 weeks. We breathed a little deeper that day. Being caught on the razor’s edge of not wanting to miss all the firsts and not daring to get attached left me exhausted. Or was that the tiny healthy baby boy rapidly growing inside of me? I’ll never know.

As I type now, 15 lb baby asleep in my lap, I’m astounded. He is pure magic. Parenting is without a doubt the hardest and still somehow most incredible thing I’ve ever done; and we’ve only just begun.

I have a hard time writing about being a mom because all my words feel too common. This experience is changing me in every moment and yet all I can ever find to say is this:

I had no idea.

I had no idea how deeply I would love him. How innately I would want to care for his every need. I’ve spoken before about my fears of being my mother. She made parenthood look so arduous. Every task a burden or a chore. I recall with crystal clarity being asked to do things she didn’t want to do to care for my infant brother that I delight in today . I am not her. Her inability to delight in motherhood was hers alone.

And so, on this auspicious anniversary, I’m elated to say that it was all unquestionably worth it. 2015 was a year of triumph unlike any other.

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