The End of the Beginning

I started this blog as a way of trying to write about something that had become a part of me, namely my desire to be a mother. I needed a quiet place in blogland to do this, somewhere I could be anonymous, somewhere that certain people from my other site could never find (cough*family*cough). I had to have a place where I could write it all out, detail the E2 levels and document the number of embryos, all while getting the flotsam and jetsam out of my mind, as well as my ovaries. This site was designed to let me hide and work things out, and that failed some time ago when my family mysteriously discovered my site anyway (funny that. Also? Pisses me off.)

I thought about this space during some of my quiet time this week with Nick and Nora. The twins are, in my mind - to steal a famous line - practically perfect in every way. I know every mother says that, I'm next in the line. I just can't believe they're here, that they're real.

I started IVF nearly 6 years ago. After a number of cycles, I have a set of twins that I love with a fierceness that surprises even me. I wish more than I can say that the other women who got eggs of mine could have gotten pregnant. I am floored that "two average quality embryos" from the worst cycle I'd ever had could produce two little wonders like these two. It's all so impossible, yet here I am, looking at two silent sleeping forms.

We're just now home from the hospital. When I started typing this up in the fits and bursts of time I've had since they were born, I realized where I was in my life - at the moment I started writing this I hadn't bathed yet for the day. A bad night with Nick meant that half of me was covered with baby vomit. Two stains showed where some milk leakage had occurred. I had blood encrusted on the bottom of my gown. I was wearing net knickers with a pad that Nora would envy to catch the lochia, something they don't really tell you much about before you have a C-section. My fingers smelled like yogurt, which I ate as rapidly as I could that morning.

And I'd never been happier in my whole, entire life.

I am now showered and changed (thank god!) and the babies are snoozing in the bassinette next to me. They sleep better together. They sleep better swaddled. They both take immediate comfort from the sound of mine and Aidan's voices.

But even more so, somehow it feels like a chapter has ended. I fought and cried and battled and died, and I have two milk drunk muffins beside me who give me a greater sense of peace than a thousand hours of therapy (although the therapy is definitely a part of what makes me balanced enough to have them here, that's for sure). My pregnancy was the worst experience of my life. Arguments, worry, bleeding, fear, hospital stays, needles, blood pressure, kidneys, bladder, more bleeding, breathing, emergency C-sections, the sight of my boy in special care...it was a living hell. And if I only ever got one moment with these two babies in return for 36 weeks of hell, then it would still be worth every single second. The babies have become something that both Aidan and I can't wait to be around, can't wait to interact with. We both light up at the sight of them. We have both fallen in love, and in return, something between us seems to be even brighter than it had been before. I thought I loved him as much as I could possibly love another person before they were born. I was wrong. I'm even more in love with him now, too. 

I cannot have children on my own, but my own personal battle with infertility is over. No matter what happens in this crazy thing called the future, we are not going through IVF again. This is absolutely not a judgment on women with secondary infertility, in fact I have a greater, deeper respect and support for women that are battling secondary infertility, it's just for us I know without question that Aidan and I will not be having any more children. Nick and Nora round out the family in the most unexpected way and I will get down on my knees and thank whatever god lines up for thankage, but this is where my infertility and I part ways.

So I started this blog to try to get to a finish line, and now I'm there. I'm not turning my back on the infertile world, and I'm not walking away now that I've got what I want. As a mere function of time, though, I'm going to stop writing here and will write only on my main site from now on.

If you've been with me on what I unashamedly and sappily think of as the most amazing journey I've ever been on, then thank you. If you want to keep walking with me, I'll be updating on my other site as the babies and I grow up together. Come on over.

If you're still on the path that infertility has put you on, then I love you. I'm so sorry. If you want to email me and vent or come to my other site and comment then I would love to have you. If you can't, if it hurts, if it's too painful, then believe me - I understand. And I wish for you so much.

For all of you, those who have faced down the Needle Brigade with me, those who cheered and emailed and wrote and commented and hoped and prayed and laughed and yelled, then thank you. Thank you and I love you and I will never, ever forget a moment of who I am and what I went through.

Comments

[jv]

Beautiful. See you over there on the other side.

[Jennifer]

OH my goodness. I feel like I just reached the last page of a really good book. I've been addicted to your blog since I found it back in April. I'm due with my first child in November and am so glad to hear that everything is going so well for you and your family. Good luck!

[Veronica]

I'm getting all teary.

Congratulations on your gorgeous babies. I will be reading on your other site from now on.

[Poppy]

Damn...you've made me cry again!

I wondered if you would blend the two sites once the babies arrived. I'm sure it will be much easier to keep up with 1 site than 2. Though I imagine the 1 site will be more than enough to manage :)

I'll following you on over yonder from now on. I'll update my bookmarks and be more than happy to walk this new path with you.

God Bless~

[joy]

Congrats again. And what a wonderful wording of what you have been through ... I have only been here through the end of this part of your journey - but I love your honesty ... your strength ... and I look forward to reading about the next stage of your journey. Thank you for sharing this... and for continuing to share.

[Motel Manager]

Beautiful post! I will definitely be following your adventures on your other blog, and congrats on your babies!

[Tina]

I'm still with my journey but I want to hear about the babies and you and your journey through motherhood..i'll see you on the other page :) You are a beautiful person and I want to say Thank you for your blog and I want you to know that it has helped me through my own failed ivf's. Congrats on your babies!!!!

[Sara]

Congratulations! I'm so happy to hear that you've reached your destination and now the next phase of your life can begin.

[Kath]

Dear Vanessa, a thousand congratulations on the birth of your beautiful children. I'm so, so glad your long ordeal has ended in such perfect joy. I'll be reading your other site from now on, and sending you and your family my warmest wishes for a happy life together.

[wn]

happiness....I'll follow you anywhere you write buddy! Here's to ending this journey and beginning another one.

[Lut C.]

I'm so glad to put you in the 'arrived' section of my blog roll!

[canape]

I have loved being allowed into this part of your life. Thank you for sharing it.

I'm going to update my feed reader now.

[M]

I don't think you can get rid of me that easily - and I truly love the tone of this post. As I love you - honestly...

xxx

(am I allowed to know their real names??)

[CoJo]

I laughed, I cried, I had a great time. I have been following you for over a year- I went through my first IVF at about the same time as your 5th. Your experiences were encouraging and supporting when I didn't know who or how to talk about what I was going through. I miscarried a month after you did. And I crazily got pregnant 3 weeks before you did. So i feel connected. Needless to say I am so extraordinarily happy for you, A and the lemonheads. I wish you nothing but blessings and a long loving life! I am due in 10 days and hope my baby story ends/begins as beautifully as yours has.
Love and happiness!

[Bea]

Well, you've got one hell of a birth story on that other blog of yours. Glad you're finding it all worthwhile.

Bea

[Jen]

Congratulation, I have been with you since the beginning of the year and it is so amazing that you now have your children, they are real. I am still on the benches starting IVF#3 and I can only hope. Good luck to you and your family.

[Radish]

I am so insanely happy for you that this part of the journey is over and your beautiful children have joined the world.

[hopefulmother]

Vanessa, I am so happy that you finally got to write this post. It has been a pleasure sharing our twin pregnancies together, and I hope to continue reading about the journey to come on your other site.

Best wishes!

[watson]

Dear God, please tell me you'll keep posting about the twins, if not -- what will I do without you???

You blazed this trail and now I'm hooked, I read to see what's in store and to laugh hysterically and to consider things in a new light..and since we live too far apart to get together in person, I simply must have my Vanessa fixes.

And so much love and congrats on the arrival of Nick & Nora - YIPPEEE!!!

[Alyssa]

Hi -- Congratulations on the birth of your beauties, Vanessa!!! I just wanted to let you know how much I've enjoyed reading your blog since March -- the first blog I've ever really followed -- and I'm glad to know that you, your babies and the rest of the family are recovering nicely postpartum. It has been a joy to read about your ups and downs and victorious triumphs! When I began my own journey toward motherhood this past year, I hadn't realized that I would feel such a deep affinity with the infertility community, but I do. Maybe that is the beauty of all of this, our expanding solidarities with one another. I suppose I should more properly be considered "subfertile" since the mild intervention I took to get pregnant (thyroid hormone replacement therapy)worked for us in five months. At age 39, I was anxious for things to work out quickly, as all of us seem to be. The nuchal translucency and blood screening scores looked encouraging enough early on in the pregnancy that we decided to forego CVS and amnio, and at 34 weeks, I generally continue to be one of those annoyingly symptom-free pregnant women. But, we have learned that the placenta is placed less than perfectly, which may result in a c-section and even a hysterectomy at the birth, if things do not go well. And, the 30th week ultrasound revealed potential brain abnormalities in the fetus since the head circumference lagged so far behind standard dates and the other measurements of the fetus itself. After a terrifying MRI, more blood work and specialist requests for an amnio and bimonthly ultrasounds (which I've since refused since there's nothing they can do about anything anyway), my husband and I are shaken in ways we have never been before. We still don't know for certain how it will all work out -- there is some possibility that the baby will be born normal, or it may be a special needs child. So, my horizon of solidarity has recently extended to children with developmental difficulties and those families supporting special needs children. However things work out for our child, this newfound compassion, like my emphathy with all of those struggling to conceive, feels like a permanent part of me.

Thanks for letting us all be a part of your journey, Vanessa, and best of wishes to you and your family,

Alyssa

[jenny]

What a beautiful closing. I've lurked on your other site for a while but wasn't sure if I should comment. I'll be sure to visit and maybe even stop the lurking.

[isabel]

I'll be glad to see you on the other side. It must be wonderful to get off this ride, to boot.