Independence Day, overdue

Our Fourth of July was pretty low-key. It had been raining for days and was terribly soggy, so we decided to skip any big fireworks shows in favor of a good dinner with friends and family and a few sparklers for Corin. Our neighbors upped the ante with some fun home pyrotechnics, which predictably terrified my cautious son. He’ll still tell you about how he didn’t like that one big BOOM, which he makes sound very impressive, indeed.

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Turned out to be a great way to celebrate everybody’s favorite summer holiday. God bless the U.S.A.!

Christmas retrospective

Christmas is over and a new year has begun. Every single year, this takes me by surprise. How is it that we have tucked another holiday season under our belts and girded ourselves for 2013? 2013! That still sounds impossibly futuristic to me. I do love the beginning of new years, though. Jon and I rang this one in very quietly, at home on our couch, watching the latest Batman movie on our new Blu-ray player and tuning in to a time-delayed NYC broadcast just in time to see the ball drop and to share a sweet kiss. I’m okay with that start to this year. Quiet, at home with the things that really matter. Maybe next year we’ll dress up and find somewhere exciting to go. But this year, quiet was just right.

It was a good Christmas. We spent a week with Jon’s family in Georgia. Corin spent long hours roaming the cold, wet outdoors with Grandpa, and I enjoyed the freedom to get down on the floor and really soak in Baby Girl. Lina is smiling and cooing like nobody’s business, and it makes me happy. Sometimes I feel as if she might be getting gypped with how divided my attention often is at home. I do make time to cuddle and talk to her, to get down to her eye level and cheer for her tummy time achievements, but often I’m stopping to tickle her for a moment or to get in her face for a quick smile and hello as I pass on my way to put away more laundry or to help big brother with his pants for another potty break. (Ah, potty training, there’s a topic for another day. I’ve said that before, haven’t I?!)

In any case, this Christmas, the riches of family willing to entertain my children meant I got to spend some good one-on-one time with each of them. And then there was the glorious food, the gifts, the holiday movies, the church musical, the telling and re-telling of the Greatest Story until Corin could recite it back to us. (By the way, if you don’t have it, this is now my very favorite kids’ Christmas book.)

We made a stop to see friends in Knoxville for one night on our way home, and then it was New Year’s on the couch and a second Christmas with my family, which was complicated by sickness that has since taken up dwelling at our house. (Croup? Really? I had the clearly mistaken impression that only happened in Anne of Green Gables novels.) But Corin and his cousin still got some good time together to play with new Christmas treasures, and as always, the memories are the very best thing we take from the holidays into the new year.

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Watching Christmas movies with my boy

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Win, lose or draw on the home front

I’m not going to lie. The last couple weeks have kicked our butts. No special reason, really. Just a lot of very tired and not keeping up. I planned to share photographic proof of our perpetual laundry situation, but now I can’t find the photo. It’s really more of a laundry war, and I can tell you who’s NOT winning.

In any case, the crickets here in the blog world assuredly do not indicate a lack of happenings in the real-world Sharp household.

First of all, we were able to take a last-minute cancellation opening at the Vanderbilt Downs Clinic a little over a week ago. It was no easy thing to drop Corin off at a friend’s house and get ourselves to downtown Nashville, navigate Vandy’s parking and get in to the office by 8 a.m. (okay, we were 20 minutes late), but the appointment was worthwhile. We met with a series of people who specialize in Down syndrome, starting with the doctor and then moving on to various therapists. It was especially helpful to meet with the speech/feeding therapist, who had some helpful suggestions on a new feeding position and a few other tips for the area that is definitely still our major challenge with Lina. The physical and occupational therapists also had some suggestions on activities and play positions we could use to help encourage small and gross motors skills and muscle development. Everyone we dealt with was very friendly and professional and so good with Lina. We’ll be going back at six months for another visit. At some point, they will likely make specific recommendations for ongoing therapy, which will then be incorporated into Lina’s early intervention plan.

Lina turned three months old last week, which I will outline in a separate post. And yesterday, she made her acting debut as Baby Jesus in both performances of our church’s Christmas play. She was perfect, and I admit, I teared up several times.

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Otherwise, we’ve been very busy with Christmas preparations and the general minutia of life with small children. Lina is on day eight of a frustrating bout with a stomach bug (I’ll spare you the details that have resulted in a terribly sore little bottom), in addition to a stuffy nose she caught from brother, who is on his second cold of recent weeks. ‘Tis the season. We will be leaving soon for a lovely week celebrating the holiday with Jon’s family in Georgia. Added bonus: lots of people on hand who love to feed and entertain our children! In the meantime, I am looking forward to wrapping packages and baking cookies for delivery to the neighbors – two of my favorite Christmastime activities.

And now there is a hungry baby to feed and a napless toddler to help wrangle…

Navigating the uncharted

I’d like to tell you about a couple of amazing people.

He’s a CPA. She’s a child/adolescent therapist. They live a few states away. She is a talented seamstress. He makes her laugh. Like us, they wanted a family but faced roadblocks. Their first IVF cycle resulted in their precious son and two cryopreserved blastocysts. A couple years later, they had a precious daughter. They knew they did not plan to pursue fertility treatments again, and so they had a decision to make.

They are our embryo donors. I don’t know exactly what went into their decision to donate. Jon and I had just a small taste of what they must have faced when we began our IVF process and considered the possibility of extra embryos. We know it wasn’t an easy choice, but our donors felt a sense of responsibility to those tiny blastocysts. And so they made an incredibly unselfish decision, and in so doing, gave us a gift of incalculable value. We have this opportunity to again become parents because of them, and I am still floored by that kind of generosity.

I mentioned in my earlier post that we felt a surprisingly strong connection with this family from the time we first began to learn a little more about them. In the early stages of our process and FET cycle, the counselor served as go-between and provided updates and photos to the families. Not long before our scheduled transfer, the counselor forwarded a note written directly to me by Lauren*. I was crying before I’d finished reading her words.

It was a simple note that said she was thinking of me every day. She said it was eerie how much we reminded her of her own family. She talked about what a good feeling she had about our transfer and how excited she was about the possibilities. If the note had been written on paper, I probably would have worn it out with rereading.

That same day, I sent the counselor a return note for Lauren*. We communicated by proxy several more times up to and after the transfer. Then, on the same day, without knowing the other had asked, we each suggested exchanging contact information. The counselor passed along our email addresses, and messages have flowed back and forth fairly regularly ever since.

I wasn’t sure when we first chose embryo donation what to expect in the way of a relationship with the donor family. Would it be weird or painful? Would we feel threatened or insecure about the donor family’s involvement? Would it somehow make our baby less ours? Jon and I both started out wanting our commitment to be fairly limited, although we were open to more if the conditions were right. Then we connected with OUR donor family, and it was no longer an abstract exercise. Now these were the generous, unselfish people who had given us our baby. We instinctively trusted them and trusted our collective ability to navigate this uncharted territory.

I don’t want to oversimplify. This is a relationship without an existing definition. We forge ahead without a map. It’s probably safe to say that for both the donors and for us, there are still joltingly emotional moments when we come face-to-face with the truly unique nature of what we’re doing. There will probably be more of those as this baby enters the world and becomes a part of our family. We don’t really know what this relationship looks like a year or five years from now. We play it very much by ear, and obviously, there are boundaries. Jon and I both already feel incredibly possessive and protective of this baby. If ANYONE dared to hint she is anything less than 100 percent ours, the parental lions would roar. But that has not happened. Both families understand this baby’s unquestioned place in our family, as our child. We also acknowledge the unique role her biological family has played, and we know they will continue to be a part of our lives as our daughter grows. I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but the sense of trust and openness has served us well through this process. I believe it will continue to be a great strength in the experiences ahead.

On Mother’s Day, Lauren* and I were thinking of each other, and we exchanged notes full of gratitude. It occurred to me that day that our baby is twice blessed, with two women who will have helped shape her life in very different ways. That thought might have made me uncomfortable a few months ago, but now, it makes me happy. The amazing thing about love in its best form is it multiples rather than divides.

In fact, with this baby, WE are twice blessed. We are richer for the incredible gift of our child and the presence in our lives of her remarkable genetic family.

*Name has been changed for privacy reasons.