IUI Anniversary

I've been pretty lousy about remarking on various anniversaries - my 300th post, etc - but the anniversary of the day my son was conceived is a date that will be burned in my head forever. I've made many impulsive leaps of faith in my life, with mixed results. Moving to LA - good. Buying real estate in New Orleans five days before Katrina - bad. Starting a dance camp - good. Loaning my ex $700 to fix his car - bad. But definitely doing my third IUI right after a chemical pregnancy - best leap ever!

It's funny to think that had I waited I may never have had a baby at all - or certainly would have had a very different baby. Not a Bumpus, but someone else who would have been sort of like him, but not.

I remember those days of hope and fantasy, the "trying" days. When nobody knew what I was up to, and my life revolved around prenatals and pee sticks and worry about upcoming trips and events and how I would do it all while pregnant or with a baby. So far it's all worked out. He didn't turn out to be a preemie nor special needs, and my birth experience left me only psychologically scarred, not physically.

At the dance event where I sang last weekend I was watching the young girls dance and was surprised I didn't feel my usual mild pangs of jealousy over how pretty and young and in shape they are, what excellent dancers, and how full of adventure their lives are. Because I'm just not in the same category as these people; we can't even be compared side by side anymore; I've crossed over, and there's no going back. These are girls, and I'm a mother. I pushed a human being out of my body. And I'll be forever changed by the experience. A year ago today that journey officially began.