Yesterday, Noah and I took Momo to visit or RE. I'm always super aware of what bringing a baby into a fertility clinic might be like for people there, but we managed to find a time that wasn't too busy. On our drive over, I remembered all the drives we did to the clinic. The different seasons, the different years, the different situations, the different facial hair Noah had. I remembered the early morning drives for egg retrieval and then embryo transfers-- how quiet we both were as we drove through the early morning gray, silently praying that this was finally it. I remembered the way the front door to the clinic opened and how the clock behind the front desk always seemed to be stuck at 11 o'clock. The twilight zone.
Today, I sat in the back seat with Momo on our drive. She held my finger and we chatted. I told her all about how the doc helped us get her and I held back tears of... I don't know what. Memory? The past? The amazing future I see strapped into a giant carseat?
It was good to see the RE on these terms. It was a moment I never fathomed. The nursing staff was completely different. Their outfits were different. But the gal at the front desk was the same, and she welcomed us with a different smile. I can't even count the number of times I walked out of that office in tears. It seems like a life time ago.
The doctor put his head to Momo's forehead and for a quick moment I could tell he got lost in her presence. He makes babies from scratch but I think rarely sees the end result. After ten weeks or so, once his job is done, we all "graduate" from the RE and take our nauseous, anxious selves to our OBGYN's office, pissed off at the lack of special attention we get.
Now Momo is almost 8 months old. She's crawling and standing and loves anything she's not supposed to have, because she's human. She has 4 1/2 teeth and a smile that melts away the years of struggle it took to get her. I get lost in her presence every day, and when I reflect on the drive to the fertility clinic, on the giant orange folder I have full of IVF schedules and payment receipts, and early ultrasound pictures that never manifested to anything beyond that-- a picture, I think about how incredible the journey to parenthood is for some of us. How F-ing tough some of us have to be to find our baby. And I think about how when in the middle of the journey, when standing between two roads that diverge in a yellow wood, all we feel is lost.
Lost eventually becomes found. Some way or another.