Uncertainty

At a department store recently, I thought about buying some sale clothes for next summer for Lexie. I found myself hesitating, in the same way I hesitated when I didn't want to buy maternity clothes too early, and when I didn't want to buy baby clothes until she actually arrived.

And I realized: I still am not 100% certain that she's here to stay. She's been in fairly good health, and gaining weight in spite of GI problems. There's no reason to think she's not going to make it at this point. But I still fear SIDS, and now swine flu lurks just over the horizon. I'm sure I'm not alone in my concern for my child, even among parents of full-term babies, but I do think preemie parents have stared a lot of serious, life-threatening hazards in the face, and it heightens our awareness of all that could happen.

I'm not sure when I'll feel secure that Lexie's going to be okay.

The first time I was pregnant, I purchased a onesie for the baby that never was. It was a silly little thing I'd seen years earlier and I was excited to buy it for our baby. After that first miscarriage, I tossed the onesie in the back of a closet, where it stayed for more than two years. Every once in a while I'd come across it, but I'd return it to the depths of the closet and try not to think about it. I hated having that reminder of how certain and happy we had been, and how little we knew about how long the journey to parenthood would be.

A few weeks ago I finally broke out that onesie and tried it on little Lexie. It was already kind of small, but I did get one picture.



She had just the right Jennifer Grey look here, too.

In the Trenches

Yesterday, we had some friends over to meet their one-month-old little boy. It was also the first time they'd met Lexie.

Their little guy is pretty much the same size as Lexie, who is now over five months old. But he was over 10 pounds (!) when he was born (vaginal delivery!), and Lexie didn't hit 10 pounds until last month.

We'd lost touch with these friends for a couple of years. When I heard they'd had a baby, I sent them a congratulations email and gave our story in a nutshell. My friend wrote back with theirs. They'd lost their first baby, a boy, at 22 weeks to a devastating heart defect, and that pregnancy was followed by another miscarriage before they finally succeeded in having a baby.

Somehow, hearing that they'd had trouble too -- that they hadn't sailed easily into parenthood -- made me feel that we were allied with them, like we're together on some big IF team. It's the friends who've had difficulties that I find it easier to relate to, easier to keep in touch with.

I'm sure that, over the years, the whole painful process of becoming parents will recede into the haze of the past, but right now, it's very raw, and when I'm with those friends, I know we won't find ourselves inadvertently smacked in the face (metaphorically) by some remark made in total innocence by those who haven't been on the IF rollercoaster. Even questions about whether we want to have more kids would have to result in a long explanation.

I could always use the generic response of "You'll be the first to know." But frankly, I'm already tired of using that one from our pre-baby days.

I don't know -- I'm having trouble really expressing my feelings about this. It's not fair to pull away from some friends just because they had an easy time having a family. But then, life's not fair, right? For now, it's nice just to stick with the people on my team.