Timing Is Everything

"Timing Is Everything" - Garrett Hedlund

It's

two weeks away from our due date. 

And almost three and a half years since Steve and I began this journey.

Time is a funny thing. 

I've been sitting here for at least a half an hour.  Just playing back all the memories from the past years - the almost eight years Steve and I have been together.  Pressing rewind, allowing myself to visit all those instances that led us here.  I read through many of my previous posts over the weekend...some being my very first entries.  Words, I remember taking what seemed like forever to bring to life and feel confident enough to say out loud. 

There's something so liberating and exhilarating about just putting it all out there and not being ashamed of the struggles and heartache you're facing. I look back to almost two years ago, when I started this blog, and I wonder where I'd be had I not had the courage to just start typing on that long, exhausting, lonely night. 

Would I be where I am today? 

Writing, for me, has been one of the greatest forms of expressing myself.  Steve and I were just talking about it - how sometimes you just need to splash those thoughts, dreams and fears all down where you can see them in order to truly feel them and get through them. 

Steve's been working on a post (the one that will follow this one).  Last night, he sat in the office with the door shut, music playing and a glass of red.  And I knew to leave him alone. 

I wanted him to have and take all the time he wanted and needed in order

 to pour it all out without any interruptions.

I've been thinking a lot lately...

About time. 

Doesn't it always seem to pass by so slowly when you're in desperate need for answers...when you'd give anything just to get where you wanna be so badly.

And doesn't it always seem to just fly on by when you want nothing more than to just soak up a few more minutes...hours...weeks...

It took what seemed like so much time for Steve and I to get here.
It made us crazy sometimes.  Absolutely crazy.
But I'll say it again, we wouldn't trade it for anything...the road we had to travel to get to where we are now.  In our almost three years of trying, there were days I didn't think I could possibly love Steve any more than I already did.  The intense passion that comes from being vulnerable together proved to be amazing for our relationship.  But there were many trying days too.  Days, I imagined myself beating him with a sizzling frying pan or taping his mouth shut
 and locking him in the basement.
There were times we'd lay in bed at night and have the most intimate of talks, bringing us to a connection so deep, I knew that this was all happening for a reason...a good reason.
And then there were times all that positivity would seem to just fly out the window...
We would sling harsh words at one another.  Heck, I even slung pepperoni pizza at Steve once.


But that insane, crazy, beautiful, memorable, one hell of a roller-coaster ride
was our saving grace.

Looking back, time was always on our side.
We just didn't know it yet.

I look at Steve in such a completely different way than I did years ago.  Even months ago.
I, of course, have always loved him deeply.  But, the bullshit...the agony...all the decisions we were forced to face together...they brought our love to a new level.
And this sweet, little baby girl...
She brings out a side of Steve that is hard not to fall even more in love with.
And to think, she's not even here yet.  I can't wait to tell her how excited her daddy was the whole time I carried her.  At times, I think he was/is more excited than I was/am.  And I guess that shouldn't surprise me all that much.  But I think back to over two years ago, when we got the news of Steve's inversion.
I feared for us.  I feared for Steve.  I feared for the chance at ever having a family.
But most of all, a family with Steve.  I feared it could drive us apart.
It took many months - about a half a year for Steve to begin to come to terms with it all.
I remember the night I wrote this post.
A giant weight lifted.
A few months later, we were ready to accept it all.

And a few months after that, we were ready to embrace it all.


It's funny, I haven't mentioned those two words...
"sperm donor"
in quite some time.

For months, in the past, they took hold of me like no other. I stayed up at night, with never-ending restlessness, wondering if Steve would ever come to terms with his inversion...if he'd ever be able to open up and talk about our options...but most of all, if he'd ever truly want to take that route.
It, being the one our doctor recommended, the best and healthiest (and eventually the only) option if it meant me carrying a child.
I used to worry that he wouldn't or couldn't love our child as much if it wasn't genetically his.
And I think I worried about that not because I would feel that way if the roles were reversed, but because Steve wouldn't open up to me for so long.  And I really had no clue as to what was going on inside that head of his.

I remember Thanksgiving Eve 2010.  We had just received the news the week prior.  We walked into town to meet friends for dinner and drinks. I knew Steve was all kinds of vulnerable and though he had tried to keep his cool that week, I could sense it was all gonna come crumbling that night.  Steve only had two drinks and was an absolute mess.  Crying at the table.  Making no sense with his words.  I was embarrassed but so much more so, heartbroken for him.  And at the same time, relieved he was letting it all out. On our walk home, he leaned on me as he dialed one of his best friends.  Steve hadn't told him the news yet and decided that during his melancholy state of mind, at midnight on Thanksgiving Eve, would be the best time to call.  I didn't stop him.  I can remember his very first words to his friend, cutting me to my very core - "I'm a loser.  I can't give Maria and me a baby."
I'm crying as I type right now.  Because, if I want to go there, it's all still locked in my heart
and always will be.

But mostly, I'm crying because time is such a gift.  And I see now, the unbelievable lessons and beauty that can come from pain.
You could be so caught up in a moment...so certain nothing will ever go your way...you could lose all your faith and give up.  Or you can go through every emotion under the sun, allow yourself to feel every bit of that pain, give it try after try and see where it takes you.
You just need to give time a chance. 

I can tell you now, those two words - sperm donor...they don't make me cringe or cry or feel scared.
I'm so damn thankful for them.
Years ago, I used to think they'd always be there...lurking around, making us question if we made the right decision.  It's not even a thought and hasn't been for a very long time.

Some people ask and I'm sure many wonder...
Will we tell our daughter how she was conceived?

Yes.  Without a doubt.  She will know of our entire journey. When the time is right - when she's not too young and not too old. 
She will know her daddy and I used a sperm donor.  She will know we tried and tried and were pregnant seven times before she came into our lives.
  She will know that despite it all,
we wouldn't wish for it to be any other way.


I remember upon getting the news of Steve's inversion, feeling really heartbroken when I realized we may never be able to conceive a child the "normal" way.  I remember feeling somewhat stripped of the magic of making a baby.  And that it was just so "different"...
And it's funny, because now...
I realize, where yes, years ago, neither Steve or I would have ever predicted this is the path we would have taken to begin our family...


It isn't so different at all. 
So, she doesn't have Steve's DNA.  I mean, of course, we both know she doesn't.  And every once in a while when we think about it, it's almost a shock.  Because it's not a big deal at all anymore.  And because, let's face it...it's amazing...the whole process that got us here.   To be completely honest, it doesn't really cross my mind all that often that she is half of me.  That may sound weird, but I think it's because all that really matters in the end is that we have so much love to give to our daughter.  No matter what our child's genetic makeup, we are living our dream.
 We are starting our family.
She is ours, regardless of her DNA.

 And so we didn't conceive her after a night (or many nights) of passionate love.
One thing is for sure, love brought her to us.  A whole lotta love.  She was made through love.
She is a miracle.
Just like every baby in this world. 
<3

My phone just beeped a few minutes ago, signaling I had an email - "The Daily Kick - Week 38"

How have thirty-eight weeks passed already? 

We spent three times the amount of those thirty-eight weeks trying to get here.

And now, I sit here in complete awe of  the little girl that is squirming and dancing around inside of me, doing her best to try and get comfy with the little room that's left.

A lot of people ask us if we're ready.  We're ready.  I mean, the nursery is complete.  She has about 700+ diapers to get her started and so many clothes, blankets and pacifiers, we could open up our own shop.  Steve even set up her monitor, though she won't be sleeping in her crib for probably a few months.  Are we ready to meet her - yes, absolutely.  I think about it every single day, maybe every minute, sometimes. 

But I know that our hearts, though overflowing with extreme love, can't even begin to fathom how they'll swell when we see our daughter for the first time.  We can think we're ready for the love that will wrap around us in that very moment...but I know, deep down, it's going to truly hit us right then and there. 

People also ask me if I want her to just be here already.

And that's a tough one.  Because being pregnant, carrying her, feeling her grow and stretch and live inside of me...

has been the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced.

She's with me always.

And I guess, my answer is - I want her to come when she's ready.
I don't want to rush these last precious few weeks, days or possible hours.
The time it took us to get here compared to the time I've been pregnant...
It's taught us to really appreciate every single day.  The good and the bad.
Because the good days and even more so,
 the bad days...
  They're teachers.  They're life changers.  They're lessons in love.

And time...

If you trust in it.  Be patient with it.  Lose yourself and then dust off and try again.
  Keep hope locked deep inside.  Have faith in it...

You'll one day learn that it will bring you the greatest of blessings...

I received this gift in the mail today from my dear friend, Diana. 
It couldn't have come at a more perfect time.
It means so very much to me.
Thank you so much, Diana.
<3


Baby girl, you'll read these words one day.  You'll read all of them. 
Thank you for all you've taught your daddy and I.
Thank you for making us better people than we were before you.
Thank you for bringing out the best in us. 
Our journey to you was not an easy one.  But it was an amazing one. 
And I believe with every ounce of me, that you...
You were waiting for us all these years.


38 weeks as of yesterday...

You are our meant to be.
I love you.
***


"When the stars line up
and you catch a good break
and people think you're lucky
but you know it’s grace
it can happen so fast
or a little bit late
Timing is everything"
<3


I'll be back at the end of the week with a guest post from Steve.

I hope everyone has a wonderful week.
<3

Lovin' Every Day,