Trigger warning, this post talks about loss.
Someone close to us just had a miscarriage of a 9 week pregnancy. The news has me hugging Avery extra tight and reminiscing to this time last year, just days before our BFP, when Avery was a speck of a blastocyst implanting into my uterus for the long haul. When I looked at my blog post from when Avery’s embryo/fetus was 9 weeks gestation I got so sad about our loved one’s lost baby. Not just for the woman going through the loss, but for the baby itself. Before having a baby, I used to have a rather cold outlook on embryos and early fetuses. I didn’t think of them as people, I thought of them as clusters of cells with potential to become people, IF left to gestate. That potential is so much more tangible to me now that I have seen Avery go from that cluster of cells to a person I could not live without.
Lately we’ve been doing a lot of reminiscing as we approach Christmas. This time last year I was full of doubt and dread, sure we would have another flopped cycle. Christmas Eve at my SIL’s I kept going to the bathroom every half hour looking for my period, which was due that day. That night I laid awake all night with mild cramps, crying and waiting to wake up with my period. I was so afraid to go pee on Christmas morning that I held it until it hurt. I left the pee stick on the bathroom sink and let my wife look. We were so lucky to be able to spend Christmas morning cuddling in bed with a positive pregnancy test… SO lucky. That’s the story behind Avery’s first Christmas ornament that reads: Best. Gift. Ever.
This year we get to spend Christmas morning cuddling in bed with a baby. I feel so ridiculously lucky. I will never take this for granted.