The bulbs we planted last November, after our meeting at the hospital where we discussed Otis's autopsy as well as our future in the land of conception, have started to pop through the muddy ground. Today the weather is supposed to hit 80 degrees out here. The sun is bright and shining and spring feels like it's finally here. We had a most miserable winter (duh, obviously, but I'm talking weather-wise mostly) - so many straight days of rain, backyard flooding, mudslides close to home...dark, gray days. It felt fitting, in so many ways, it matched my mood perfectly. And yet, at the same time, my body longs for spring, it does so every year, and this year was no different. The effect of the sun on my mood has always been tangible. When I was a child, my mom used to say that if the sun was out, she wasn't afraid to come in my room in the morning to get me up for school...but if the sun wasn't out, she had to tiptoe in and it was never pretty.
So of course this winter could be considered "the worst one" but in many ways it felt entirely appropriate that the weather was cooperating with my need for the world to be sad, to grieve, to stay indoors and shake their fists at the sky.
And now, as spring is springing, I look outside the windows and see the daffodils shining their bright yellow faces in the sunshine, the tulips beginning to open their delicate petals in the breeze...and I smile. I *hate* that I am not looking at my boy's smiling face, that instead I am looking at his garden, but it does still bring me a sense of peace to see these spots of beauty that we've brought into the world in his honor.
**Subsequent pregnancy discussion to follow**
Yesterday I went in for the CVS. It was terrifying, first having to lie there for ultrasound, fearing that they wouldn't find a heartbeat, I was already in tears, but they did, right away, and then we got to watch the baby for a good twenty minutes or so before the procedure...I can't believe how much the baby has grown since our visit just two short weeks ago - we now have limbs, and digits, and we watched as that little being stretched and wiggled and crossed and uncrossed his/her legs, and rested his/her hands over his/her face, and behind his/her head....E says he could see the exact moment that my heart let go and I fell in love while watching that screen. And it's true - and terrifying - I felt myself cross over from the sense of "there's a little blob of cells in my uterus that is making me tired and nauseous" to "oh no, oh no, oh no, I am in love with that little baby in there, and that terrifies me, please please stay here baby, please grow strong and healthy, please stick around with us and please come home with us in October..."
I had a momentary panic of "what am I thinking, having a risky procedure done?" and E and I talked about how we could leave, we didn't have to stay...Then the doctor came in and we had a good talk with him, he knew our history and reassured us that if he felt anything about the test wasn't "textbook" that he wouldn't proceed; he was reassuring throughout the procedure, as were the nurses and the u/s tech.
The procedure itself hurt, and I couldn't watch on the screen, but E did and said the baby was oblivious to the huge needle poking into my placenta...and I haven't had any signs of complications so far (thank goodness) and have been pretty much just lying on the sofa since the appointment. We will get results in a very very long two weeks. I don't know what I'll do if we get a poor diagnosis; but I keep having to reassure myself that knowing bad news now would be better than learning bad news in 10, 20 or 28 weeks from now...And E keeps reminding me that the last (almost 7) months are showing us that we can make it through anything, together, even through our very worst nightmare.