Thalia's fertility journey

A post about Pob

Pob. What can I say about Pob. It's been a while, and here I was, sure that I'd be able to use blog entries as a way of recording her development. Let's think about Pob at 17 months then, and see if I can at least capture this moment.

 Pob at 17 months is a combination of holy terror and delightful, grown-up, thoughtful little person. Her most obvious characteristic is that she's very very social. She loves people, and greets almost everyone she meets with a "Hiya! Hiya!" She will repeat this loudly until the person concerned notices her - this works even with very sullen-looking people on the street, most of the time. She sees no reason why people shouldn't smile back at her, so she keeps going until they do.

She has quite a lot of language, and uses it well to get what she wants. About 3 weeks ago she switched from 'Mamama' to mean me, to a very clear 'Mummy'. Now she will happily repeat for several minutes 'Mummy', 'Daddy', '[short version of her name]', pointing at the right person as she does so. She calls my mother 'Nanny' (instead of Granny), and has attempted to call her other grandparents 'Grandma' and 'Grandpa' although neither word is clear. She is very interested in body parts and when I hold her in my arms at the end of the day she happily rotates through 'nose', 'ear', 'eyes', 'elbow', 'arm', 'hair', 'knee', 'toes' etc., with the appropriate actions. She says 'pease' for please and now uses it to try to get what she wants even when she's been told she can't have it. Very crafty. She's also at the stage of repeating absolutely everything we say, so every sentence we say to her, she attempts the last word - resulting in reditions of 'passenger,' 'password,' and 'friendly,' just this morning.

Language, however, is still inadequate to convey her needs so she uses two other methods very effectively. One is to come and grab the finger of the person she wants, and to drag them over to what she wants them to do. The other is to shriek loudly until she gets the attention/help she wants. The last is rather wearing. I've been trying to get her to climb up the stairs instead of being carried, and to slide down instead of being carried, and she's not keen. Depending on her mood she will either hold up both her hands to hold fingers and attempt to walk up with us supporting her upper body, or just scream really really loudly for a while. Or simply sit down on a step part way up, kick her legs gently and look me in the eye to say "haha Mummy, whatcha going to do about that then?" I'm not mad on the walking up option as I'm balancing most of her weight, our stairs are narrow and my balance at this point isn't great. But it's easier than trying to carry her up our multiple flights of stairs and I don't want to have to still be carrying her when I'm 30 weeks pregnant instead of 20 (please heavens willing), so I'm sticking to being mean about this. 

Physically, she seems to be on track. Not ahead and not behind. She crawled at around 9 months, Walked at about 13.5, although not confidently til more like 14.5 months. Now she runs everywhere, and mostly when she falls over she gets up immediately and keeps going. She climbs happily up anything which isn't the stairs, although the poor thing inherited her Daddy's body shape and so has a long body and short legs and arms (and short wide feet), which makes some climbs difficult for her. This doesn't stop her wanting to climb, however, and she'll attempt to go up anything, particularly the smooth slippery part of the slide.

In terms of toys she rather likes her shape sorter but only partially understands it. She knows she needs to get blocks through the holes, but doesn't seem to understand that different blocks will go through different holes - she bangs wildly on it for a while, trying to slot the block through any hole, then will eventually, with a bit of prompting, try more gently to get the block to fit through its hole. When she does get one in she cheers and claps. She particularly likes her Noah's Ark, and spends a long time getting all the animals out (kissing them as she goes), then putting them back in and taking them for a walk. She loves her Mozart cube, still, and her Piano - she'd prefer to bang on our big Piano but it's on another floor from the playroom so she makes do with her own little electronic one. My brother last week got her really building with blocks, so there is a new level of enjoyment there.

She loves the two little dolls she has, particularly dressing and undressing them (or rather, demanding we undress and dress them, while Pob tries to put on their clothes and gets frustrated that they don't fit). But most of all, she loves stuffed toys. Any stuffed toy. Doesn't need to belong to her. If we see a child carrying a teddy in a shop she'll hold our her hands and demand loudly that it is given to her. Same with toy displays in shops. All soft toys are made to be loved by Pob. She kisses them, then tucks them into the crook of her neck and walks round with one hand on the toy, the other hand looking for the next activity. Actually she is generally incredibly affectionate with toys and with other people, and also with books. She will regularly kiss all the animals in "Dear Zoo," for example.

Her favourite plaything is still her library. She'll read books for hours - both to herself now, but more often demanding to be read to. She's got a lot of books but usually only about 10 are in rotation at any one time. A favourite at the moment is "You choose" which she can look at for hours. Funnily enough she always chooses the rather spivvy-looking man with a trilby and a moustache as her friend, without much rhyme or reason as far as I can make out.

She eats like a trouper. Very rarely rejects anything, and relishes her food. As a consequence she is still pretty chubby. Don't know where she is on the scale as she hasn't been weighed for months, but she hasn't elongated as much as others led us to believe she would when she started walking. I'm trying not to worry, but not doing a great job. At least I don't have to worry about her getting enough nutrition, and what she eats is very healthy - lots of fruit and veg, porridge for breakfast. The sweetest thing she gets regularly is fruit. She's had bits of a biscuit a couple of times but since she's off eggs until she's 18 months that rules out most cake and sweets*, and so far she hasn't yet realised that chocolate is the most delicious thing ever, so we are spared her demanding it from us. She does want to eat whatever we are eating, which means she's now had olives, curry, lemon risotto and rosemary foccacia, among other things. And thought they were all yummy.

She is a creature of routine. She usually has her morning bottle with one of us holding her in the armchair downstairs. One morning last week, H brought her to me in bed with the bottle, and we had a nice time hanging out in bed, exploring the stuff on my bedside table, and having the bottle. We went downstairs about 20 minutes later, and she kept tugging at us while we made breakfast, although we didn't understand why. Eventually I let her take my hand. She led me over to the armchair, carrying the empty bottle, climbed into my lap, sucked a bit at the empty bottle, and then happily got up and went to play. Clearly we had done things in the wrong way, and she needed to fix it.

She still feels like my baby, although she clearly is becoming quite independent. I miss her horribly all day while I'm at work, and get quite grumpy if anyone gets in my way on the way home. I knew having her would be fantastic, I knew that I wanted more than anything to be a mother. It's all that I wanted and hoped for, and more than I could have imagined. I am very aware, every day, of just how lucky I got.

* Because she showed a mild allergy at around a year, so we were told to keep her off them for six months, then try again

Letter to my daughter

Dearest Pob

I came downstairs after my early phone call this morning to find you playing with Uncle R. You were having such a lovely time together, and he was delighted to get to see you after a few months' absence. Thank you for making him feel so welcome. You are the child I always wanted - and so much more. So much more complicated, so much more intense, so much more delightful than it was possible for me to imagine before you arrived.

I've been worried, ever since it looked like this baby sibling was going to stick around, of the effect he or she would have on you. If Sib would disrupt the lovely relationships that your daddy and I have with you. That you'd feel that we didn't love you enough, that we needed something more than you. We really really don't. I wanted you to have a sibling because I wanted you to have what I have now - two lovely brothers who share a lot of my history, who love me and frustrate me in almost equal measure, who I know will always be there for me. Your Daddy feels the same way about his brother. I don't want you to feel alone in the world, alone against unreasonable parents when you are a teenager, alone at the (hopefully long-distant) point where won't be around any more for you.

We really weren't sure a sibling was going to happen for you. It took such a long time before you arrived. But here is this potential sibling, still growing, kicking Mummy from the inside on a regular basis. On Friday, at our Gymboree class, your friend A's tiny baby sister, I, was there. You went up to her carefully, patted her face, and said "Baby!" And everyone cooed at you. You know what babies are, I wonder if you know what having one in your own house will be like.

But there was a specific part of giving you a sibling that I realise now I was very invested in. That was to give you a sister. I haven't got a sister, and despite my now very strong relationship with my brothers, I have always really really wanted one, jealous of the relationships I see my friends have with their sisters. My mother got pregnant again just after my little brother was born, and she had a termination as she felt our family couldn't cope with another baby. She told me this when I was a teenager, and I understood, although I also saw her regret and my father's regret. They both thought they were doing the right thing for the other, while both secretly wanting this fourth baby to arrive anyway. My mother told me she has dreamt about this potential baby ever since. A little girl, the sister I always wanted, although she would have been seven years younger than me. Blonde, like my middle brother, to proove to him he wasn't adopted, his secret fear based on being the only blue eyed blond in a family with dark hair and mostly dark eyes. 

So maybe I might have had a sister, in another reality. And I thought, perhaps you could have a sister, give you that very very close sibling I wanted. Because my brothers, close as I am to them now, were not easy relationships when we were younger. My 2-year-9-month-old self was desparately disturbed by the arrival of this invader baby, or so I'm told. I don't remember much about it, except for throwing my panda out of the car window on the way home from meeting the baby at the hospital, after my mother had told me (with very good intentions) that the baby didn't want my panda, he was mine. I thought "well, if the panda's not good enough for the baby, I don't want him." So I threw Panda out of the window, and my father, furious, pulled the car over, stomped down the street to pick up the panda, and threw him back through the window at me. It wasn't a good day.

I do remember constant frustration as we grew up. Me, the good girl, always helping clear the table, do the dishes, do my homework, and those boys, noisy, rough, breaking enough things when they cleared the table that they weren't asked to do it again. Banding together as soon as the little one was old enough, to make bigger noises, make fun of me and my friends, beat me in tennis and football so often that I just stopped trying to play sport, and got pudgy and shy.

So although things between us are good now, I wanted a closer sibling relationship for you. One that wouldn't take so much fixing as young adults. 

I didn't realise how much I wanted this, until the sonographer zoomed in on the gap inbetween your little sibling's legs, and said "There you go, what's that!?" And your baby sibling, my lovely, is a boy. And I cried and cried, despite having just been told that the baby is perfect in every way.

I felt so awfully embarassed at the crying. This clinic is one where people go when they have serious problems with their pregnancy. And my pregnancy is fine, my baby is fine. But he's a boy, and I had to let go of all those futures I'd imagined for you and your little sister, the images of her wearing some of those little dresses you've grown out of, the thought of you having a female ally against all those hordes of boy cousins you have.

That was a few days ago. I'm getting used to the idea of a boy. I've started to test out little sentences about my son. I've ordered a book that might help me continue to understand what I'm feeling, although I'm feeling it less and less as the days go by, as I feel him kicking me. I'm hoping we can help you have a great sibling relationship, maybe do better than my parents did with me. Maybe. And we are certainly committed not to getting you to play the role I had to play in my family as the responsible, good, quiet and helpful one.

Daddy and I have started to think again about boy's names - Daddy was convinced that your sibling was another girl. We haven't told our families yet. We want to share our excitement with them when we do, since we know both grandmothers will have moments of a little sadness at a reduction in their abilities to buy pink clothes. But I know that will be transient, and then they'll get on with loving him, as we all will. As I especially hope you will, when all that disruption in your life has started to seem normal again.

This morning when you were playing with your baby doll, I said to you that you might have a baby brother in the house to play with by next year. You repeated "baby bother" and went on playing. I hope not, sweetie. I hope not.

Follow up to yesterday

In the aim of kickstarting my posting again, I'll respond to an interesting batch of comments:

• Many people in my office know what we've been through as I'm pretty open and even led an infertility group at work. It's in no way secret, although in an office of over 800 people of course some people don't know
• The woman handing out the gifts knows our whole story
• It wasn't my baby shower (in which case of course I would have declined gracefully), it's a generic one and usually aimed at women who are about to walk out of the door on maternity leave, plus an opportunity for part time parents and women on maternity leave to come in with their children to connect with others in similar positions. I went at the specific request of my mentee to meet her baby, and to say goodbye to another friend who is about to head off on her third leave (who also knows all we've been through). I had no idea they would even attempt to give a present to someone at my stage of pregnancy, else I would have headed off the moment they headed towards the presents.

It is of course not my goal to mock things meant in kindness, but it was my goal to understand why on earth a gift at 19 weeks feels appropriate to anyone, when it feels so far from appropriate to me. I haven't told anyone at that group I am pregnant. I'm not looking pregnant unless you look very carefully. If you are American perhaps this is harder to understand as baby showers are so much part of the culture, but since in the UK most people don't have baby showers, this isn't a cultural norm. In most work places I think you might get a card when you leave for your maternity leave, and then a present if you are lucky sent to your home after the baby is born. It's not normal to hold such a party, or to get gifts before the baby is born, and particularly not normal for someone as early in their pregnancy as me. I don't think they were idiots or unkind to give me something, but I was surprised and obviously a little peturbed, and honestly despite all your comments I still don't think it's appropriate. You give a gift around the time the baby is born - just before if you must, or just after - not 4.5 months before. It was not what I had intended or expectd by joining the tea and I don't think I should have expected it either.

I'm just very glad that another colleague who told me yesterday her identical twins, at 16w gestation, are showing signs of twin to twin transfusion syndrome, and may not make it, decided not to come to the shower. She really looks pregnant so I'm sure she would not have escapedn a present. But she was sensible enough not to go. I do hope she gets to enjoy the next party, instead, as I think if things go well it's the kind of thing she would enjoy. Me? I think I'll skip it.

Another world

I just attended our quarterly group baby shower in the office. They are group events, not what I understand is the usual American-style rah-rah, just a group of mothers-to-be and already-mothers (fathers are invited too, but don't show up). Understandably, I've never been to one of these before. There was no way I was going while in the midst of infertility, and when I was pregnant with Pob I most definitely didn't want the attention and certainly not the little gift-ette they hand out, not before she was safely in my arms. Instead one of the organisers sent the present to our home after Pob had arrived, which was very kind and much appreciated.

But today I went down for 10 minutes to see one of my mentees who was there with her two month old. It was fine, low key, just a bunch of women chatting. Then they started to give out the gifts. And they tried to give me one. I'm 19 weeks people, this is not the time to give me a fuzzy bunny and a cute little yellow babygro! I've barely told anyone at work, and I'm wearing a lot of black and big baggy jackets, but I guess the rumours get around. I was absolutely horrified, and in a moment of desparation said no, honestly, no thank you, not now, and the poor woman handing out the goody bags backed off, looking a bit confused.

I know we've all written about this multiple times, but it is astonishing to me just how different our worlds are, our worldviews are. Trying to give me a present for the baby at this stage of pregnancy, the fact people tell me we're rushing it by having another so soon. "Oh, I couldn't bring myself to have another one just yet, while he still needs me so much!" said one colleague with a 20-month-old. So I pointed out that having taken 3.5 years to get to the first one, we really didn't have much option but to get going again if we wanted a second at all, and that I felt extraordinarily lucky to be in the position to even contemplate that a second baby may arrive in July. And they all nodded and turned to a conversation about finding out the gender.

In this environment, with women I mostly know, unlike the conversation at the posh hotel a month ago, I felt able to talk at least a little bit about how this kind of event looks from my perspective. In general I think this is the right strategy, although it does result in that moment of awkwardness. But surely you don't have to have been through the not-too-terribly-traumatic experiences that I have had to feel awkward about getting a present for the baby at 19 weeks pregnant? One of our colleagues last year lost a baby at 22 weeks, she spent this year's pregnancy constantly tense and anxious. Many of the women there know about that experience. If you're Jewish, for starters, it's culturally inappropriate. And shouldn't that thought cross people's minds?

I'm both fuming and a bit upset. Not very upset and quite understanding that this all came from a place of wanting to do the right thing. But it wasn't, and I hope it won't now happen to someone else.