Last American Girl Standing

It worked, my dear St. Elsewhere. You read me from afar that I have words that need to be put down. ;)

I'm working within the constraints of a nap that is unpredictable with a long To Do list. Let's see what I can get down in 15 minutes. *sets the clock*

First and foremost, Babel is wonderful. He's amazing, frankly. He's so smart and engaging and adorable and funny and adaptable. He's 15 months now, and besides the hard month of June during the cataract diagnosis, it's been amazing. But even that month was beautiful, hard as it may have been.

The little guy had surgery days after his first birthday to correct strabismus (lazy eye) brought on by the cataracts. The surgery was extremely hard on TH and I, lasting twice as long as it should have, as well as giving Babel a terrible wake up from the anesthesia. We had to wait three months to see the final results, and it has been a long, tepid wait. We follow up with the PO (ped ophth) tomorrow with hopes that we can stop patching and forge ahead. Truthfully, TH and I have both been uneasy with patching this week; it seems the eyes get a little too wonky from the hour of the patch, so we've both agreed to hold off until this next appointment. I feel guilty doing that, but at the same time, the thought of patching right now makes me literally cringe. One week away will not do harm if we're still to continue, so we'll see what we encounter tomorrow.

In the mean time, Babel should probably be renamed Babble. Oh my goodness, does he talk! It's adorable. He reached his first 100 words by 14.5 months. About 20% are in Romanian, as we're raising him bilingual. We practice One Parent, One Language (OPOL), and it's going fantastic. TH is incredibly disciplined with keeping to his language, and it shows. It also helps that MIL and FIL are Babel's favorite people, and he gets to spend a lot of time with them, which includes lots of language. His grandfather just might be his favorite person...but it's a close tie with his father. ((((Boys))))

As for me, I am still at home, living the life of luxury. ;) Right. But a grand gig, it is. I've picked up a shift at the local yoga studio in exchange for free yoga classes, and it's just what I needed. My yoga practice has grown immensely, and I am really considering doing a teacher training in the summer. (I'm also running regularly, and I believe you could actually call me A Runner!) I've also picked up an art class for young toddlers at a local store. It's been a challenge, mainly with the mothers who expect their children to be clean after 45 min painting, but I love it. The kids are so sweet, it allows me to get messy with them, and it allows Babel to spend some time with new friends. All good things.

And, my 15 minutes are up. I will leave you with a few adorable stories. I feel like I am constantly bubbling over with adorable stories. Proud mama, I am.

- Babel's been having a little problem with one of his contacts slipping down (b/c of the strabismus surgery), and he's gotten very good about letting us grab onto his little face and try to move it back into place. He's also become a very good cleaner upper, thanks to TH teaching him "la loc", which means something along the lines of "to put back in its place". (He's learned "away", but "la loc" is the fan favorite. It's funny to see what words he clings to in which language.)

So, last night at the dinner table, I was digging around, trying to get that contact in place. When it finally shifted, Babel declared, "la loc!" TH and I just shook our heads at him. So smart to put those two concepts together! We're constantly in awe while watching him learn.

- Babel loves to read, and he gets so excited for his books now that he says "book-a-book-a-book-a-book" soooooo fast and giggles. It just melts your heart.

- He loves my phone, try as I might to limit his time on it. He was playing the It's A Small World app (which just sings the song to animations), and he mumbled something to himself. I asked him what he said and checked the page he was on, and my ears had heard correctly. He's taken to repeating the last word of things he hears, and he had said "Hope!" since he was on the page that says, "It's a world of hope." He then looked up at me, straight into my eyes, and told me "HOPE!", while nodding his head slightly at me, a gesture I figured out I do when affirming something he's learned. Yes, Babel, your mama sometimes needs to be taught about Hope, the thing with the feathers. Thank you, dear little one.

and leave it be.

Some days, more specifically today, my head swirls around the question about whether or not our family is complete.

In the days immediately following Babel's birth, I made TH promise we wouldn't have to have another child if I didn't want to. What a kind thing for me to do, hormonal and swollen to bits, scarred from birth both physically and emotionally, and begging TH through tears not to make "us" go through that all again.

We've always wanted two kids. I used to hope for twins on the 2nd so I could con TH into a third. All that was pre-infertility, though. What a gamechanger that infertility was, though.

Now, we've been thrown another loop. Babel's cataracts are X-linked; my father had cataracts as a baby, as well. We don't know the mutation that caused the cataracts, but we do know that I'm the carrier. When I let my mind wander, which isn't often, I wonder if any of this has to do with the chemical pregnancies. If we had a boy, which I've always thought would be the case, there's a 50% chance he'd have cataracts, too.

What do I do with that knowledge?

Babel could be facing more surgeries to correct the strabismus (lazy eye) that has developed as a result of the cataracts/removal. I'm currently at home with him, but for how long? We originally wanted about 4 years between children (feel free to roll your eyes at an infertile's timeline...I certainly do), but if I'm going to stay home longer to care for Babel during his patching, eye drops, maybe vision therapy, etc, maybe it's better to bite the bullet and get things started? I've been sailing along without a plan quite happily, but after 3/4 of a year without a plan, I'm starting to need one. Is it selfish to want to know when I'll return to my career? I LOVE being home with Babel. Finances are manageable, but I think TH and I both miss a little more cushion in the budget. I think we both agree that something part-time in my field might be best, but I think we both feel a little uneasy about Babel's care for that part-time work. And how would we handle more surgeries? It was a definite blessing for me to be home for all of the follow-up (and there was a LOT). I know we'll work it all out, but until we formulate the first decisions of the plan, nothing can fall into place.

It was complicated with just the infertility. Now, it feels overwhelming. Give Babel a sibling who may be his closest confidant in all that he'll experience in life? Give him a sibling who may not have the same vision issues? Would one be better than the other? When I think from Babel's perspective, I don't think he'd be concerned. I just see him with a brother, two little boys getting into mischief and growing into tall men that kiss their mother when they enter her kitchen on holidays after a long time away.

Is that my answer? Because in all the times I have tossed these questions and scenarios around in my head, I've never put myself in my son's shoes. What's wrong with me? How did I miss that important perspective until just now?

Babel is nothing short of amazing. Yes, I'm his mom and am biased, but there's just something about him. I've been saying this since he was a fresh group of cells in my belly. Babel has not been upended with the events of the past few months; he's steady, strong, determined, and unfazed. The adults around him, save myself mostly, have been in turmoil. And I think while I haven't been caught up in the emotions of the diagnosis and treatments, I think I'm getting caught up in these family building questions, as the true infertile in me knows how. We're currently half keeping an eye on any potential for a pregnancy and half throwing caution to the wind. Perhaps my answer is to keep things open and to just figure out what we want to do about my working situation. Maybe Babel's companion will help work everything out for us, if we start to work things out for ourselves.

I can't help but feel I would be completely okay with Babel alone, but part of me feels that's selfish. That's the easy road for me. When I think about an older Babel, I see him with his arm around a little version of himself, a companion through the years. Two sweet boys that are the best of friends. I see this image vividly and frequently, and maybe to consciously choose against it isn't the way to go. But when I see this boys, I don't see their faces. Maybe I don't really need to think about their eyes. Maybe I need to listen to what I've been saying for weeks and remember that their eyes aren't going to define them. In that image, they are just there, together, leaning on each other. Isn't that all that matters?

The past two months have been, oh, a bit of a whirlwind. At the end of June, Babel had his first surgery to remove the cataract. We were a little surprised about just how groggy he was following the surgery, but after all the stress, TH and I were very glad to have a long day of napping with the drugged little guy.



Surgery #1 was followed by a ridiculous amount of follow-up appts. In the week following the surgery, we went to the pediatric ophthalmologist (herein forever, "PO"), Dr. Quirky, 5 times. We skipped a day, but we made up for it with two trips in one day due to blood drops coming from Babel's eye.

Yes, his eye bled. Not tears mixed with blood. Drops of blood falling from his baby eye. It was even scarier than the first time I started spotting with the first chemical. TH got us to the city in less than 20 minutes, and that was with a bunch of traffic. It was decided that we watch too many medical dramas, but thankfully, all was well with the little guy's eye. Dr. Quirky, in true just the right amount of quirky form, couldn't definitively tell us why the blood happened, but he assured us all was well.

During all of this, my mom was with us to help out. It didn't work out entirely as planned, but it was better to have her here than not. She was really preoccupied with work she needed to do during the three weeks she was here, and we just weren't very cohesive in sharing care. I don't really know how to explain it; it wasn't terrible, it wasn't great, it just was.

Over the 4th of July, the rest of the fam came and we had our annual BBQ. Babel stole the show and all was well. He was ridiculously spoiled by Uncle Oldest Younger Brother, who is 17 and would set his alarm for 730am to wake up to play with Babel. It was pretty darn cute.

When the rest of the fam left (ie, the boys), Mom and The Belle stayed behind to help out with Surgery #2. It went just as easily as the first surgery, as by this time, we were old pros. We had the same issue with the 2nd eye bleeding, only this time it stayed in the eye and filled the white part of his eye. We ended up with a trip the ER to confirm that all was well, and it was. I think Babel just really likes this hospital. ;)



We started Babel out in glasses following surgery, and they were a pretty emotional ride for the mama. I went through a variety of emotions, most not pretty, while trying to accept glasses as part of Babel's adorable little face. He lasted about 3 weeks in them before we moved to contacts, and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't miss those glasses just a little bit. I had been so worried about the aesthetics of them, whether we'd hear rude comments that a fragile mama couldn't handle, and whether or not I could get used to his "new" face. Turns out that I love that new face just as much, maybe even more, than I love that little face without glasses. When we're out walking now and I'm pushing the stroller, I sometimes have to remind myself that no one is going to comment on how cute he looks in his glasses...because he's not wearing them!


He's been in contacts now for two weeks. After the first week, we had to change his Rx and size because they kept sliding down in his eye (de-centering). He's developed a bit of strabismus in the left eye, the one that was operated on 2nd. They've changed the contacts to hopefully help that, but the change seems minimal. We're now patching his good eye once a day for an hour at a time, something he's not too fond of. The crossing is sometimes very, very hard to watch. TH pointed out to me that I make a little whimper when it's turning in a lot, so my new uncomfortable habit is to squeeze my hands into fists. :/ Not my finest moments, but it's really not easy to see. It makes me want to squeeze the little guy to BITS.

Overall, we're doing pretty well. Babel is mobile and into EVERYthing. He taught himself to crawl at 6 mos, in between the two surgeries. He quickly got himself up by pulling to a standing position. He thinks lots of things are hilarious, and he likes to pant like a puppy when he's *really* happy. I use the phrase, "Not for babies!" at least 10 times a day, but it secretly makes me happy because I know that he can see the things he's getting into, even if they really aren't for babies. :) Yesterday, he was picking at a dirty spot on the floor, and I about kissed him AND the dirt fleck on the floor. He can see!! The 2nd pair of contacts, while the Rx is a little lower than they'd like, seem to be working very well.

TH and I are coping, but we're not always doing it so gracefully. We've completely swapped roles of me being the rock while he has a harder time adjusting to the changes and our new, permanent situation. Things keep getting thrown at us right after we adjust to the "new norm", and I wish I could say we were as strong as we're capable of being.

Babel needs to have his eye pressure checked on Wednesday, which requires anesthesia, since he's too little to hold still for the measurements while awake. If you have some spare good vibes, we could definitely use them. It will still be hard to leave him in the OR for the procedure, even though it's "simple and easy". They are also a little concerned that his eye pressures may be rising and glaucoma beginning, which would not be good. If it is in fact up, it could be from the prednisolone drops he's still taking (and tapering). At any rate, we don't want glaucoma to start, so we would really appreciate some good thoughts in that direction.

I'm still trying to write more often. The days have been one big blur, one week becoming the next with little distinction. Things finally seem to be slowing down, but like I mentioned, once we adjust to the "new" thing, something newer just seems to immediately pop up. We're exhausted and stressed but still head over heels for the little guy, despite all the things that are trying to hold him back. He's having none of it; and if you asked him, he'd tell you nothing big has happened these past few months. Well, maybe not. He'd probably tell you to get out of his way...he has some exploring to do at those toys right behind you...

It's been a busy few weeks in our house. To make a long story short (and maybe some day I will type it all out when I'm not exhausted or covered in baby slobber), it has been determined that Babel has cataracts. He is being seen by genetics, but we are all pretty confident that this is just an isolated case of cataracts and not part of a bigger syndrome. Cue deep sighs of relief from Mama.

To make an even longer story short, my father had cataracts as a baby, and I only found out that this was the cause of his poor eyesight AFTER I called my mother sobbing that my baby couldn't see.

Communication. It's a good thing, no? (But knowing this has done wonders for allowing me to relax about all the testing we've been going through.)

But I digress. I'm actually in a pretty good place about this (much better, than say, my stoic, Eastern European father-in-law, who cannot keep his eyes dry). I am guaranteed to be a wreck tomorrow when we had little Babel over to the nurses for the surgery, but I am ready. They'll take out one of his lenses tomorrow (with the other coming out next week), and it's the first step to getting him better vision. It's no coincidence that talking to him all week about his upcoming adventure has been to get BOTH of us ready.

Let's face it. Babel's a tough ass kid already. I famously say that out of all the babies that could have been, Babel stayed. Babel has always been a fountain of calm. When I would panic in the pregnancy, he'd happily kick me to tell me all was well. He's no different outside of the belly. He makes friends easily with his sweet little face, and he's not a big crier. Well, he's not a big crier unless he's in Month Four of Life (also known as "the crazies"), but since we're past that, he's a-okay again. He just wants to hang out and play. Not too hard, right?

He's not yet six months, but for the past two weeks, he's been up on all fours, rocking like mad, trying to figure out how to move his arms so he can GO. He has a mean downward dog, which he perfected over the weekend. (He also moves through plank!) He loves to stand, started sitting at 5 mos, and is just the sweetest little thing in all of NYC. So you say he can't see? Don't make a damn bit of difference to Babel. He'll snatch that spoon right out of your hands to feed himself, thankyouverymuch.
We do have a road ahead of us, but I think it's only as long and arduous as we make it. It's so much easier for me to keep my ish together for that little face, and as a result, I'm one of the few people who is clear headed going into tomorrow.

This baby is tough. Yes, we're about to embark on a new journey, but we're going to be okay. If I've learned anything, it's that we really are going to be okay.

We watched this movie last night, and TH and I loved it. I thought it might have been too sappy for him, but I was wrong (gladly).

The part I can't shake (spoilers ahead, if you haven't seen it) is when Jamie runs down the bus and in his little affirmation in which he tells Maggie he needs her and they need each other, she tells him she can't ask him to take care of her when she gets sick. (She has Parkinson's at 26.) He simply looks at her and tells her she didn't. He's there to gather her up because she'll never ask, but he wants to take care of her. She feels guilt for sidling someone young and upward-moving with her self-proclaimed Sick Girl status. He loves her enough for it not to matter.

Sound familiar?

I don't have to ask, but I know that's part of the reason TH loved the movie. The guilt I used to feel was like a houseful of bricks on my chest. He never asked for this, but he stood there like the solid man like he is, carrying me more times than I can count.

So, yes, it's Mother's Day, but my God, my day wouldn't be what it is without Babel and TH. Each one of us made today a happy, happy day, one that I am forever grateful for.

As always, I wish each of you still hoping and waiting for a day filled with patience and love. I hope that by this time next year, you'll somehow be holding your child and feeling honored on this day.

XO,
K

Certainly not here.

I don't know what's going on with me. Yes, I have a therapy appointment to discuss it, but Babel has to come with me, which makes it a little difficult to focus on a conversation about why I'm having difficulties reasserting myself into the land of the sexual beings.

Because I don't feel like one. At all. Is this leftover hormones from BFing? It *is* difficult to picture the b00bies as anything but feeding devices, and they *are* tender at times. But something tells me this isn't what's really going on.

Last night, I told TH my 'gina is broken. He dislikes this immensely, but I feel it's terribly true. Nothing feels the same. I feel pain and nothing at all, all at the same time. I get labor flashbacks when it starts to hurt. Or when I don't feel much, I start thinking it's because I pushed a small human being out of there...and then we're back to labor. Oh, were we attempting to have sex? Sorry, but I was just back in L&D in that moment when Babel was trying to make his way out. Or it could be the moment when I was getting stitched up, inside and out, which is the REAL reason I'm not feeling what I should be right now.

Oh, right. I'm supposed to be enjoying this activity. Instead, my mind has me in a hospital room, thinking about the birth of our baby. And stitches. Inside. Not exactly sexually enticing thoughts.

When we were TTC, I longed to be pregnant for many, many reasons. One purely selfish reason included that our sex life might return to normal. Timed intercourse might go missing! We'd have sex only when we wanted to, for no reason other than pleasure or the smell of TH's cologne! Then, when I was pregnant, I felt like a sexual being for a grand total of 3 weeks...the three weeks leading up to hearing a heartbeat and when we were told not to have sex. Yes, we were the couple debating hotly (and googling) over whether or not we should pretend we were the normal, fertile couple and ignore the stupid RE orders of no sex. Yes, that's the only time I was a hot blooded woman during the pregnancy. For the rest of it, I was dry as the desert. No thank you.

The next time I was eager to jump TH's bones? The first week or two after Babel's arrival. Again, during a no fly zone. (And no, I don't think I want it just because I can't have it. There are some CRAZY things going on with your hormones during those two time periods.) Everything was such a hot mess down there that we didn't even attempt it, but my God, I wanted it.

And now we're back to the desert. I want to want it, really I do. But it hurts. And I can't concentrate on what's happening in the present b/c my mind overpowers all rational thought. Or the baby cries, and my milk comes in, which is about the least sexiest feeling on the planet. But most of all, I just feel so disjointed from it. Removed. A little PTSD? Something to do with the extra weight I'm carrying that has stolen my confidence? My fear of getting pregnant again? (Yeah, I know. We need to talk about that one, but I'm not ready to type it out yet.)

That last one is a stickler, no? Oh, the irony. For almost three years, I wanted nothing more than to be pregnant. Now, I do NOT want to be with child any time soon. Strange feelings, believe me. I'm considering birth control of some sort. Makes you want to stab my eyes out a little, no?

I'm not ready to go down the pregnant path again. I don't want to become obsessed with the single most obsessive question: "Am I pregnant??" I don't want to try. I don't want to succeed without trying right now. I want nothing to change about where we are right now. I *LOVE* life with Babel. I'm not ready to think about another. Thinking about tracking my cycle makes my head spin. I'm dreading the return of my period and wondering about how I'm going to handle it. Honestly, I don't know if I'll ever be able to think about wanting another, especially if it means getting back on the treatment horse. I'm afraid to bring that horse into Babel's little world, to throw off the wonderful balance our little family is maintaining. I feel like I owe it to Babel to give him our undivided attention for awhile, and I feel that in the most simplest sense. Everything we just went through took me to the darkest places, and I don't want to see them again and take moments away from Babel because I'm in those places. I almost want to say that I want to forget where we just came from, but I mean that in the sense of having to remember that we'll likely have to go back. Maybe it's a self-preservation? That if I decide I don't want to have another baby, we don't actually have to go back. But then I get nervous (honestly) that I'll become The Woman Who Got Pregnant Without Trying. I wanted to be that woman for MONTHS. Now, she terrifies me. She will throw me off balance and into a world that was shaky and scary. Right now, my feet are flat on the ground and my head in the fluffy white clouds. Keep the darkness away...and hand over the IUD?

It's ridiculous but true. It's definitely something else that weighs on my mind when I think about the sexy time. What if this is when my period will come back, I'm ovulating and don't know it, and I end up being pregnant? Then I'd have to take a test. Oh, no, no, no. No. No. No. I don't want to go searching for a second line. My skin tingles at the thought.

So then I go to sleep. I can't handle the rest.

I went into the city for Book Club last night. Even though I'm loving being at home, I'm positively giddy for a few hours alone to ride the subway, read uninterrupted, talk with some lovely ladies, and eat a meal out. I might even have an alcoholic beverage...wheeee! And when I get home, there's a cuddly baby waiting for me to tell him goodnight. It's win, win, win.

But lately, when I go into the city, I have a new set of feelings to contend with, baby along or not. I feel like a sloppy, frumpy, out of place Mom. I'm still in maternity clothes b/c this weight is going nowhere fast. I have to take Babel in the Ergo b/c our over-priced, hand-me-down stroller is a pain in the ass and completely impractical, so I look like a pack mule carrying him and the diaper bag. The Ergo pulls my shirt up in the back and flashes my stretch marks. (And no, I'm not proud of these stretch marks. I don't see them as hard earned by carrying Babel in my belly. I'm thrilled to have carried Babel, but I am not thrilled about the state of my post-baby body. These don't have to go hand-in-hand in my mind.) I wear Con-verse that slip on without tying with just about every outfit imaginable. Did I mention I still wear maternity clothes? Just checking. Still wearing them, shirts and all.

I see these professional women going about their Rat Race days. They have on grown up clothes, no spit up in sight. They look like adults, and I feel like Frump Mom. We shopped on Madison Ave in the ritzy bits in my Ergo/pack mule/Converse/mat jeans ensemble a few weeks back, and I just felt like I didn't belong. Yes, we have The Status Stroller, but no, I'm not That Mom.

On trips like this, I find myself wondering if I want to go back to work. It sounds fun to have an important job like the one I will get when I'm ready to go back, but when it comes down to it, I'm not ready to give up our first smiles of the morning when Babel decides to open his eyes for the first time (around lunch time). I love days like today where we stay in PJs until the evening, when we're finally all slept out and ready for a walk to somewhere exciting. I thought I'd have a harder time with the loss of my income, but it hasn't really fazed us yet. But those women in suits on their commutes? Sometimes they get me, if only for a moment. Non-stretchy material in their clothing. Heels! Hair washed that morning, not the night before and bedraggled. Bangs that don't need to be pinned back!

But I have smiles. And kissable cheeks. Long walks to nowhere. The occasional yelling match b/c someone has realized that voices have volumes. So, I'm okay...or more than okay. But I do miss normal clothes. And painted fingernails. Just a little.