Yesterday was my birthday. It wasn’t a milestone birthday and there wasn’t anything particularly special or important about it – other than it was my birthday. But I found myself really depressed. And I can’t explain why. I’ve never been one to hide from my birthday or dread getting older, but suddenly this year I did. Maybe it was because I shared my birthday with baby S. Maybe seeing him grow so quickly is making me feel that much older. Maybe it’s the post-partum, bf’ing hormones sticking around. Maybe it’s the thought that this past year cannot possibly be topped – 2 perfect boys – how did I get so lucky?
Yesterday, a series of important life moments played in my head… didn’t I just graduate from high school a few years ago? Maybe not, but surely college graduation wasn’t very long ago? Didn’t I just start my first real job? Wasn’t I just walking down the aisle? Didn’t I just have W? Didn’t I just leave the hospital with S?? How is it possible that we’re here, already nearing the end of summer, and S is now 6 months old? How? How? How? And what if this is as good as it gets? What if things are all downhill from here?
Sometimes I feel like no one can relate to me. I don’t know anyone who has a spouse with CF and has gone through the IVF process. The friends I did have who experienced IVF are no longer friends. I don’t necessarily miss them, but I miss having that commonality. And while I do have other friends, I feel like they don’t always understand my situation. They can’t relate.
All those thoughts, and at the same time, I wouldn’t change a thing… Because I have everything I ever wanted.