- Posted May 7, 2012 by
This iReport is part of an assignment:
LIfe after Infertility
When I was 22 I got married and we started trying to get pregnant almost immediately. Two years later I finally got pregnant but soon miscarried. Several years of trying on our own and with the help of fertility treatments, Mother’s Day had become nothing more than a painful reminder of everything I couldn’t have.
We eventually accepted that we were apparently not meant to be parents and so we were quite surprised when I discovered that I was pregnant, three years after we gave up. There were concerns of miscarriage through the whole pregnancy and our son ended up being 6 weeks early, requiring a 2 ½ week stay in the NICU due to a collapsed lung and feeding issues.
After all that, I looked forward to my first “real” Mother’s Day being a wonderful day of celebration.
My son was about 10 months old when he got his first stomach bug, three days before Mother’s Day. My husband was working out of town so I was on my own dealing with a sick baby and all the laundry that goes with it. The only thing that he wanted the entire day was to be cuddled by his mommy - and even though it was definitely not the most glamorous part of the job (I lost count of how many times he puked on me), I would not have been anywhere else in the world that day. I’m not exactly a “glass half full” type of person, but I wouldn’t trade that first Mother’s Day for anything – I waited to be a mommy for far too long not to appreciate just how lucky I was, puke and all.