This morning, burdened by confused body clocks and too many time zones, we woke at 4 am and decided to just go about our day. The babies, still asleep (and sleeping record amounts since returning home) were snuggled in their Grobags in their cot, and their soft snuffles and snores reassured me.

The Grobags happened recently. An anonymous gift from my Wishlist, they lay waiting for the day the babies would fit into them. That day arrived, and overnight (literally) the babies went from always being swaddled to sleeping spread out like starfish, ensconsed in their Grobags. They love them, I love them, and right now the washing machine is cleaning their swaddles for the last time. The swaddles, like a huge pile of clothing, are off to three families about to have babies of their own.

The swaddles, like a number of newborn-sized clothes, are leaving our little house.

The babies are now growing out of newborn sizes, and are getting into size 0-3 months (although they don't fill the 0-3 size out nearly enough - the feet hang way off them and the shoulders are a Donna Summer throwback). I guess this shouldn't surprise me - the babies are over 3 months old now, of course they should start shedding their newborn sizes.

But a part of me ached while packing up their clothes this morning. It hurt like hell, holding so many onesies with so many memories. A part of me is immensely happy the babies are moving on, as new milestones are being hit, they're doing new things all the time. But a larger, more sentimental side grieves. These are the only babies I will ever have. With each day, each step, I get farther and farther away from that magical time when they were born. I would give anything to go back to that day and take more photos, more video, compensate for the times when I was passed out from the blood loss and the moments I had with Nick and Nora when they were sweet and quiet, when the texts from Angus were loving and kind, before the time in special care, before the colic, before all that came after.

Time doesn't work like that.

Time, instead, takes away the preemie baby clothes and the newborn size clothes.

I struggle as well with my memories - sometimes I'm hit with the thoughts of what I was doing a year ago.

I read through my archives from my other site from time to time. I don't remember writing most of them, which isn't unusual as I troll through this site and don't remember writing half of what's here, my method is to check my brain at the URL door and just cut loose. But while in Whistler I was aware that we were where it all started.

And now I think, from time to time, of where I was a year ago. I was on the needles, hoping to have a successful cycle. My last IVF cycle was a shared cycle, in that I donated half of my eggs to another woman so that she could do IVF, too. My last cycle sucked giant donkey balls, too, and I got a measly 8 eggs, half of which were crap quality. Of my alloted 4 eggs only two fertilizes. Those two fertilized embryos are ensconsed in the bean bag in the living room, sucking their thumbs.

The other woman, she didn't succeed.

I remember that, too.

It's all a little too much for me, these anniversaries. They hurt and celebrate and make something constrict in my throat. I remember the needles and drugs and scans like it was yesterday, when in fact yesterday I was changing diapers and squeegeeing noses and folding size 0-3 month clothes. It's all here and now and it's all far away.

I listen to that song Lullaby, which was my song with them. It brings back so many things for me, the smell of blood and cardboard and soap, the taste of tears and medications and hopes, the feeling of soft cotton sheets and newborn heads patted with vernix and of skin stretched too tight. The babies were still a mystery to me then and the emotions were a platter too great to choose from.

We grow every day. Sizes will be shed, milestones passed, and time will pass. I remain conscious of the events a year ago, just as I welcome the new that we see on a weekly basis. I know that the events of last year will fade, in time. But as we approach a year of first anniversaries - first day I started the shots that led to the babies, first positive pregnancy test for them, first day that the swaddles are finished, first day we don't fit the newborn sizes anymore - I mourn and I celebrate. I hurt and I love. I despair and I glorify. I am hobbled by my memories and yet I am set free from them.

Maybe this is how it is for everyone.

I just didn't expect to feel so many things in the last 12 months as I have.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 07:22 AM | Comments (18) | Add Comment
Post contains 872 words, total size 5 kb.

1 life is amazing in how it always brings just what we never expected. Congratulations on seeing through an amazing year, and thanks for letting the rest of us come along for the ride!

Posted by: caltechgirl at January 14, 2008 08:02 AM (IfXtw)

2 The difference is that not all of us are able to express those feelings as eloquently as you do. Someone told me something when Amy was newly born that just didn't register until later. That everyday just gets better and every milestone more exciting. The saddest part for me is that sometimes it feels as though my feelings about my daughter now have imprinted on those memories of her when she was fresh from my womb and I have to concentrate really hard to recall the smell of her which I described as 'baked goods' and the feel of her little body. I am not sad as such but I do have a sense of melancholy at times for that little baby.

Posted by: Super Sarah at January 14, 2008 10:28 AM (HzKng)

3 It wouldn't hurt at all to keep one newborn/preemie outfit from each baby. (I'd pick Nick's polka-dot onesie, but that's me.) I kept one from each of my kids. Every now and then I take it out and remember...

Posted by: Julie at January 14, 2008 12:08 PM (JWrHW)

4 You're just human, and it is natural to feel all those emotions. You do speak of them so eloquently!

Posted by: kenju at January 14, 2008 01:14 PM (yvCMb)

5 It's not just you, but like Super Sarah said, you can express it so much more eloquently than most.

Posted by: Amanda at January 14, 2008 02:13 PM (ay+rD)

6 You say it so well. I was just packing up tiny clothes myself.

Posted by: Dotty at January 14, 2008 03:00 PM (KJE2B)

7 Welcome to motherhood. That emotional roller coaster is still running for me as I just celebrated my firstborn son's 13th birthday. It's amazing, dizzying, overwhelming, and the greatest honor I have ever been awarded, this "being a mom". I kept some of the most special outfits from each child, a couple of things that my stepson and both my sons have worn, and a diaper in each size (it's amazing how much diapers have changed over the years) in a bag with some of their baby souvenirs. I move them around sometimes, take things out of the bags and remember, and then I put them away to be given to each child when they have one of their own. Makes me a sap, I know, but I felt better having some continuity and some tangible way to hold on to a bit of their babyhood and still move on.

Posted by: Lisa at January 14, 2008 03:10 PM (EcHBm)

8 Julie - I completely agree and I did keep some items - the Lemonhead hats, their preemie pink and blue outfits, and Nick's polka-dotted outfit is indeed folded away, to be kept by me forever Lisa - I confess I too have been keeping two diapers of each size. I already can't believe we're on size 2s from the preemie days. We're suckers, aren't we?

Posted by: Helen at January 14, 2008 03:10 PM (gkSWb)

9 And what a 12 months it has been for you and yours. Such upheaval and growth and life expansion! Noboday could be expected to anticipate how they would feel in your shoes, before it actually happens. I'm a big fan of the phrase, "getting there is half the fun." Enjoy the ride. And know that as freshly past memories are tucked away for safekeeping, new ones are being made every day.

Posted by: Jennifer at January 14, 2008 04:43 PM (jl9h0)

10 Excellent, miraculous, nervewracking year. Thanks for letting us share it with you. I fully understand your angst about the babies getting bigger. I love watching my children grow and learn and do new things every day, but I miss being able to hold them on my forearm, or cuddle with them on one knee while my cat curls up on the other knee. Just wait until Nick and Nora can crawl/walk/run to meet you when you get home. When they wrap their arms around your legs before lifting them up to demand a mommy lift bearhug, you will think that there is nothing better in all the world. And you will be exactly right.

Posted by: physics geek at January 14, 2008 06:10 PM (MT22W)

11 Sometimes I feel guilty for not missing my kids being babies. I loved every minute of them, and enjoyed it while it was happening, but I don't know why I am not sentimental that way. Their everyday changes are just so exciting to me, and each new thing that they do/say/learn completely amazes me, that I hardly ever look back. I am surprised to be that way, because usually I have a hard time letting go of the past-but for some reason with my kids it is just different. That is not to say time has not flown for me. When I see a video of them running around as toddlers part of me feels like it was just yesterday. I also miss snuggling with their little bodies sometimes. And I really get bowled over when I pull their little baby outfits out of the hopechest. I really do find it hard to believe they ever fit in anything that small. But babe, you have had quite a year! Just wait until they tell you "I love you", in whatever special way they do. You think your heart melts now....

Posted by: Teresa at January 14, 2008 07:08 PM (VH0A4)

12 beautiful post. my baby isn't even born yet and i already worry that i'm missing something. glad you're home safely from vacation. i sent you a silent hello from vancouver while you were in whistler.

Posted by: megan at January 14, 2008 09:07 PM (1O5Qi)

13 Yep yep yep. And here, I thought it was just me and my Advanced Maternal Age. Thank you, once again, for putting my feelings in eloquently-expressed sentences. Love love love you,

Posted by: Margi at January 14, 2008 09:42 PM (2B+B7)

14 I hate to say I told you so as much as the next person so... Welcome to the Moms Club, we all knew you would be fabulous at this stuff and even more fabulous at writing about it. Thanks.

Posted by: That Girl at January 15, 2008 02:16 AM (iVGwK)

15 As I have read all of your entries, I look forward to all that I have to come. I love how you express yourself and I look forward to continue to read more. Congrats on your beautiful babies!

Posted by: Vicki at January 15, 2008 03:07 AM (8IrmH)

16 Well said. Motherhood (and the process getting there) really has a lot to do with the things gained and lost, and the balancing act between the two extremes. So glad you have these little amazing children, and hoping the year to come brings much more happiness your way.

Posted by: Tonya at January 15, 2008 04:27 AM (DVgFJ)

17 Last night my youngest one climbed into my lap for a snuggle before bed. It did make me wistful for the days when I could hold both of them in my lap, but I wouldn't go back for anything. Life is no good on rewind.

Posted by: ~Easy at January 15, 2008 12:06 PM (XD24A)

18 I'm packing up little clothes too, and it's hard - I think I feel the same as you. I hope to have another some day, but I don't know that I will. I'm not ready to part with the little things yet, thinking about it makes me teary. And I too have been thinking a lot about the little aniversaries coming up. Big aniversaries.

Posted by: Carol at January 17, 2008 07:05 AM (19QEy)

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