I had a conversation in the car today. It was kind of a one sided conversation but I am pretty sure one day she’ll understand what today really meant. It went something like this:
Me– Today you are going to meet a lot of people. You will probably be passed around like a doobie at a Grateful Dead concert, but don’t worry they have all held you before. Some when you were only a cell, and others in spirit.
Jellybean– Silence
Me– Did you know they were your first baby sitters too?! It is a lot of them. You were so special, that it took a small army of folks to watch you grow in those first few days.
Jellybean– More Silence
Me– {Wiping Tears} You see Jellybean, the amazing people you are about to meet create families. They make dreams come true. They are the ones, my love, that helped bring you to us.
Jellybean– Starts crying. Loudly… Pretty sure it wasn’t the sappy exchange we just shared. She was either hangry, (hangry- adjective, when one is hungry and then turns into Bruce Banner when they do not eat.) had a righteous poop, or hated the “Fancy” song I was listening to on the radio.
Big things were happening today. In order to get Jellybean’s last name changed, I needed to make a quick trip to my alma mater, our fertility clinic. Currently her last name is different from ours… crazy surrogacy laws. In order to change this, our attorney needed an original copy of the chronology of the transfer for us to have a new birth certificate.
A flood of emotions came over me as I walked the “Green Mile” pushing Jellybean in her stroller. It was a long narrow hallway. One that I had worn a tread in through our years of appointments. Not many fertility patients come back with their miracles to proudly show. I also probably pissed off a few of those that were now holding the waiting torch in the lobby. Sitting on the same couch I wore the thread count thin on year after year. I know I was highly annoyed when I would see a woman with a baby at a fertility clinic. “How dare she step foot in here,” I would think. Doesn’t she realize I am hurting to the core and the shear sound of a crying baby will send me into a fit of rage or a tidal wave of tears depending on what injection I was taking at the time. Instead, I sulked and internalized the feeling that she was bogarting all of the baby dust. Fast forward to now, my how your mindset changes. Instead, I should have cheered on my fellow IF sister. I should have seen the hope in their eyes, through her baby that was a success. I did not know her back story, how many years she had been struggling and perhaps stop to consider she was just like me. The moment we checked in at the desk it became a hotbed of excitement and joy. Everyone came out to see us. The nurses who had foraged day after day for good veins, IVF coordinators, front desk staff, clinic manager, and even the billing and finance advisor (we became close understandably as we all know assisted reproduction is far from cheap! So best make good friends with those who know the system.) My eyes really started to leak when I went to the OR and saw all of the staff who had joked and cried with me all in the name of our IF miracle. All were ear to ear smiles seeing the fruits of their labor.
Then I heard a very familiar voice, one I will never forget, “Hello Mrs. W.” and with a rare smile my RE peeked over at my daughter and patted me on the shoulder. I thought to myself it has to be rewarding to see the perma-grin that is affixed to the faces of their once devastated patients. Although daily they have the difficult job of breaking the hearts of so many childless couples. It has to feel good once in a while to see in person what an answered prayer looks like.
I can imagine though there are many patients that have their positive betas, never to return. The clinic staff goes on to wonder, what does their labor of love and petri dishes look like? What does the pile of cute squirmy IF babies at the end of the rainbow look like? They all thanked me for bringing her and coming back. Yeah, I had a reason other than to show off baby cuteness but it felt good. I had another reason to visit my clinic other than to get poked and prodded.
For Jellybean, this was just another car ride, or at least that is all she was aware of. But really, this visit was to return to one of several places that she has called home already in her short life. She lived as two halves in Chris and I, as a multi-celled embryo at the fertility clinic, as a fetus in our surrogate, and now as our farting, crying, pooping miracle in our home. In each place, she has been surrounded by love, grace, and compassion immeasurable and for that, we will never be able to say “Thank You” enough.
This was a beautiful post, thank you for sharing! I would say the place she is surrounded by love the most is now being here with you and Chris. There is doubt about why you guys won the Hope Award.
Thank you!!
Your posts lately really really get my waterworks going. You’ve certainly earned the right to go and show off that beautiful little face to anyone and everyone. sending so much love,
Lynn
Lynn! Thank you. They were so happy to see her.I love our clinic.
A beautiful post. I bet it was so emotional for them to see your baby. Med staff are humans too and they need some encouraging moments to spur them on through the tough, heartbreaking ones.
Rachel, such a good point. They see so much disappointment and have to deliver some really bad news at times. It was so nice seeing them ooh an ahh over Jellybean.