The last few weeks have felt a bit blurry, like a marathon. I took the girls to NYC to be with my parents during Christmas, while Viking stayed behind to spend some time with his Dad and brother.
As always my mom and dad were kind and general champs about having so many people in their tiny apartment, but also as always, it was really nice to get back to my comfy - albeit messy- house. Samantha would NOT SLEEP in her pack and play and since we were sharing a room - with Niblet, and I couldn't let her cry because the neighbors wouldn't take a crying baby very gracfeully, well, it was fucking exhausting.
I spent some quality time with one of my oldest best friends. "She's [Niblet] 2.0!" said my friend R, as we strolled around Bryant Park's holiday market. "Wait she's even more [Viking] than Niblet was, that smirk she has, those blue eyes..." he continued. Yeah, tell me about it. It was surreal walking around NYC with a baby in a carrier attached to me. I used to stare longingly at women in the City during wintertime, with their babies all tight and snug.
When we returned to Baltimore we were as close to saying AAAAHHHHHHH as any tired family could. And we spent some time with Viking and did a day trip to Winterthur, the DuPont family mansion in Delaware, taking one of Nibble's friends with us.
So here's a thing I've alluded to before: My clinic was in Delaware was chosen because it was the only clinic that was easily accessible to me which offered people seeking healthy eggs semi-anonymous donors. In other words, she could potentially be contacted by Samantha when Samantha is 18. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about Samantha's genetics. I think about it them often as I think of Niblet's I suppose - will Niblet need x, w, z health screenings based on her family history, for example. I do often look at Samantha's nose with wonder because it's the only clue that she is spring from a different genetic tree. But this kid is so obviously blended into her paternal line, it's really not something I get hung up about.
But this weekend I really wanted to eat at the Mexican restaurant Viking and I lunched at while I was cycling. I was a little emotional about it, Viking, not so much, I'm not sure it registered the same way. Have I mentioned that all I wanted to eat before and during that pregnancy was Tex-Mex? Niblet and her friend who joined us completely balked but being the hungry grownups in the car who really wanted fucking enchiladas, we prevailed. It was a weirdly comforting meal, eating at a place where the whole science-y shebang of Samantha's conception really began. I know there are DE moms who struggle with their feelings about not having a genetic link to their babies, I guess I got lucky. While I don't shout our third-party reproduction to the hilltops, I'm really at peace with it.
But the cycling itself is like a dream. I saw an Instagram picture I posted of myself years ago, taken at a work retreat I attended when I was self-administering injections on the sly. I was cleaning out my bedroom and found a stash of needles. Many people know I used IVF to have this baby, I'm completely honest about THAT. Hell, a few weeks ago a woman in the grocery store who was sharing a bit too much on the checkout line asked me if I came by my baby naturally. Nope, I had a little help I replied. (BTW, I told Niblet about this conversation, and my 9YO astutely commented: She probably really needed someone to talk to. God, my child...)
I will probably be more open about using DE too, but not for some time - I am maintaining a personal rule that it is no one's business until Samantha herself understands it and comes to terms with it.
To be honest, I feel something like survivor's guilt from these experiences. Sure, it took six years to have this baby. Sure, I experienced grief and lows from my losses that still punch me in the gut today. But I have a baby. A beautiful healthy girl who is starting to cruise around the living room and can say "cat" who even charms her very tempestuous tweenaged sister.
I hope beyond hope that I do right by these children that I am insanely fortunate to have.
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