Turning Pages

It really began in my mind, with my October-November 2008 IVF/ICSI cycle. 

All I had to show for that cycle was a lonely ultrasound pic of three embryos trouped into my uterus, hoping that they would root in the lining. 

All I had was that one pic which hung around in my purse for a long while. Till it faded, and died.

That image of the pipette shaped uterus with three light blobs is fresh in my mind, and in no want of a physical reference. 

I brought three crows to mark them embryos. 

I was overly confident that my IVF would work. It did not. 

I spiralled into depression. But I had to be the skeleton that hangs to the pothole's lid. 

I came out. 

When I became pregnant with Lol.a, and on my own for that matter, I was overly confident that this would work, and I will have a baby of my own.

She died. 

Oh, there was all hell around it. 

I went back to the chalk-board for I had no more to do but to do it and be it. 

When I became pregnant with Sea.son, I was more grounded. In a way, it was that there was a shaky start to the pregnancy, and the bleeding initially because it ensured I did not go on the high I usually instantaneously achieve at all positive possibilities. 

She came and she thrives.

And I have an almost-15 month old in my house.

Sometimes, and especially recently, when I watch her in repose, I realize that I may be heading towards raising an only child. That no one else would mark the same milestones as she is.

I hope that if she is raised an only child, I will not try to encash all my parental dreams and unrequited wishes from her. If she does have a sibling somehow, I will not spread the seeds of my parental dreams and unrequited wishes with 'your sister does not do this, and you don't listen to me either.'.

(I apologize for using the old names of the babies, I no longer use them, but they are what I think when I think of them.)