Three years ago today, my husband vowed to be there in good times and bad, to wipe my tears, to comfort me with his body and spirit and nurture my best person and of course, not drink bad wine. We didn’t know what the future would hold or how much our relationship would deepen in the next three years. While we had already been introduced to UCSF, we were neophytes and had no idea how lucky we were to get away scott-free with a pregnancy on our first IUI.
I like to think of year one as Miles. Seven months after our wedding, our dear son was born via C-section at 5:47 am. Ten weeks early and just three pounds, five ounces, Miles taught us quickly the challenges of parenthood. The 45 days he spent in the NICU were some of the toughest in my life even though his stay there was easy compared to many of his cohorts.
By our second anniversary, we barely managed a quick dinner to celebrate. Too exhausted by twice a night feedings, constant pumping and worrying about long term problems from Miles’ prematurity lingered. Everything seemed to sort itself out for a bit. Miles learned to crawl, turned one and I got pregnant easily. Then things fell apart. I lost my job, found out the baby had Trisomy 18, terminated and two weeks later, Miles was in the hospital with RSV. Miles had barely gained a few ounces back from his sickness when Dave lost his job on our second wedding anniversary in the middle of a costly home renovation. On a bright note, Miles was sleeping through the night by then and we enjoyed a great dinner and a full bottle of lovely wine.
We’d always wanted two children and assumed it would be easy to get pregnant again. This past year, we’ve watched month after month go by, one negative after the next. Escalating treatments from IUI to IVF in hope of getting there faster and still, an empty womb. We find ourselves on our third anniversary ready to travel to CCRM for a final try. At the same time, we bought a house in the burbs to be closer to Dave’s work and begin the process of selling our beloved San Francisco home. The blessing throughout has been Miles, who turned 2, in November and is completely caught up to his developmental age. While he might try our nerves more than I like to admit, we never for a second forget our fortunate we are for his health and adorable spirit.
Tonight, I will break IF rule #1 and open a fine Brunello. We will toast our perfect little boy and the strength of our relationship, made so much stronger from what we have been through these past three years. And to the hope that the fourth year will bring Miles a little brother like the fortune teller saw and that next years anniversary be filled with sleepless nights.
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