There's a kind of peace that only comes after you've been through something intense. You've survived birth. Your baby is here and healthy. You're alive. For a few seconds at a time, that's enough. That's everything. I'd be feeding my baby and suddenly feel this wave of gratitude so big it almost knocked me over. I'd look at my partner holding our baby and think: we made this. we're doing this. this is real. We prayed and waited and wished and now it’s real.

I think there’s a general misunderstanding between many moms-to-be and their providers that could be overcome with good communication. I had a great team that wanted to position my delivery and the baby for our best chance at success and I believe that. I could advocate for myself, ask questions, and gain clarity on the logic and process.

Here’s the thing. If I felt good in my first trimester, I somehow felt even better in my second. The reassurance of every passing week added to my stability, joy, energy. I got out in the sun more and more days and felt strong and happy to venture out. I didn’t really turn down any invites these months but I sure did sleep and rest a lot.

I was extremely fortunate to have a fantastic first trimester. I remember some headaches and being tired, but nothing out of the norm. I kept waiting for something really bad to happen, or for me to be nonstop sick or unable to do certain things, but if anything, I felt very clearheaded, serene, alive, very calm, peaceful and collected. It was kind of a welcome change from my usual, and I understand why some women absolutely love being pregnant.

After a while, I realized that all of the positive affirmations were actually making me spiral in the other direction. I found this in yoga to be true as well - sometimes going as extreme as possible pushes me too far and as a human, I need to dial it back to be rational and to manifest just the right amount and not overdo it. I was lucky to have a strong partner that would listen to me/let me bitch/hear me out, and as soon as I vented, I often felt better. So we sat. We watched. We waited. We prayed. I kept working and kept the minutes, hours, days added together without further incident. I was manifesting the little baby that could.

The nuts and bolts of this process are all too obvious to anyone that has been through it before and pretty self-explanatory even if you haven’t. The cycle that you may not realize that you end up on however is the ups and downs of fingers crossed, highs and lows, and waiting for a result that continually doesn’t come. The what if, the not drinking, the casual feeling that maybe you’re sore or tired or swollen or cranky because it happened! But it didn’t. I don’t have the exact count anymore but I would guess that it was maybe two full years of month after month on that roller coaster before we decided that it wasn’t going to happen. Possibly impossible.

Post Covid we all were shooketh, in varied ways. Hubby the cats and I hunkered down pretty seriously and started out drinking and zooming like so many, but then switched gears into crazy cooking and exercising. As a reward this time last year I was in a wonderful place. My marriage thrived, my work was going great, and I was in probably the best shape of my life when not skiing 100+ days a year. We were in some aspects newlyweds through all this but also making up time by always being together in quarantine. And then…