Perfect Moment Monday: Goin’ Mobile

Last March, when I was barely pregnant, as in ‘only one beta and even that had been done early because I was flying away to the Land of Don Quixote’ pregnant, I made a couple of purchases. Both were tremendous leaps of faith that the pregnancy would stick around and result in a Real Live Baby. Both of the purchases waited in a box until the time, if and when, they would be useful.

One of them I’ll post later this week at Show and Tell.

Here is the other one: a mobile we bought in Barcelona. DH and I stood in a museum gift shop for a length of time probably suspicious to gift shop employees, debating with ourselves and each other whether we really could let ourselves buy something for a baby that we didn’t yet trust to come into existence. Together, we made that leap of faith.

It didn’t seem right to put the mobile up when I was pregnant. Too presumptuous.

After the babies came, things were too crazy to put it up. When they calmed down a little, momentarily, I tried to put it up, got out the ladder and everything, but the spot I picked wasn’t amenable. It was impossible to find a time when the babies were both out of the nursery yet I was available to drill holes in the ceiling.

Then, instead of the spot I’d first picked, I wanted to use it over one of their cribs, but I couldn’t figure out a foolproof way to ensure that it was safe to dangle over the crib. When I bought a developmental mobile with a built-in crib clamp, DH said with a little hurt in his voice, “But what about our mobile?” It was so sweet.

Finally, this weekend, I figured out a way to put up our mobile that did not involve a power drill or risking anything crashing onto my babies’ heads.

The first Perfect Moment is actually getting something done.

The even more Perfect Moment is seeing one of my babies look up from the changing table, watch the mobile turning in the breeze, and laugh. That is why I made that purchase. That is why I did all of it, really. All of the years of treatments, and waiting, and emotions, and more waiting. I did it all for that little giggle.

view from the changing table

See more Perfect Moments at Weebles Wobblog.

Thoughtful Thursday: Memory

Welcome to Februrary’s Intelligentsia. It’s the shortest month, but thanks to the weather it often feels like the longest. Let’s honor the people who commented on every Thoughtful Thursday post for the month of January.

Lucky (and consecutive) appearance #13: Wiseguy from Woman Anyone?
#9: Photogrl from Not the Path I Chose
#9: Kristen from Dragondreamer’s Lair
#8: Jill from All Aboard the Pity Boat
#7: Lost In Translation from We Say IVF, They Say FIV
#5: Cat
#4: Elana from Elana’s Musings
#4: Mel, a.k.a. Lollipop Goldstein, from Stirrup Queens
#3: A from Are You Kidding Me?
#3: Lori, a.k.a. Lavender Luz, from Weebles Wobblog
#2: Ana

A special welcome to the newest Intelligentsia member, Coffeegrl from Okaasan mommy and more.

Last week we talked about the mementos that people save. Presumably, the purpose of mementos is to provide a tangible reminder of the past. We use the objects to remind ourselves of what we’ve experienced, and we also offer proof and continuity to those who are not privy to or aware of the experience. Future generations will not have seen your grandmother wearing that ring; your someday-husband hadn’t entered your life when you wrote that diary entry about who you hoped he’d be; and, most relevant to the events that spurred last week’s Thoughtful Thursday, babies will not remember the clothes they wore.

If there will be no memory of an experience, is it still worth experiencing?

Recently when we introduced Burrito and Tamale to their great-grandmother, they also met her friend from the nursing home. Sarah is lively, sweet, and well into her 90s. She herself is a twin, though her twin brother died decades ago. When she saw Burrito and Tamale, she said, “Twins?!? Adorable! I was a twin.” I asked about her brother’s name and their relationship. “Arnold followed me everywhere.” Throughout the hours we spent with her, she’d say things like, “Burrito is so cute,” or, “Twins are really fun.” I was glad that we could brighten her day.

The next day, we came back to see DH’s grandmother again, and Sarah was there. “Twins?!? Adorable! I was a twin. Arnold followed me everywhere.” It turns out that Sarah’s memory is “not so good,” as DH’s grandmother put it. The experience of hearing her repeat the same things, verbatim, was surreal.

Was it worthwhile for her to have the experience of meeting the babies, even though she won’t remember it? For someone with dementia, I say that today is all they have, so it might as well be as enjoyable as possible.

At the other end of the memory spectrum: We’ve taken one trip with Burrito and Tamale via airplane, and one trip so far via car. Air travel with twin infants is quite a hassle, less because of the babies and more because of all the stuff they require. As they get older — less sleepy, more mobile, and more demanding — they themselves may become the more difficult aspect of travel.

Nonetheless, when the possibility of taking a European work trip later this year arose, I was eager to bring them along. DH disagrees. He says that they don’t care about being in an exotic city and won’t remember it, so why should we go through so much hassle. He prefers that he and I go ourselves, and leave Burrito and Tamale with his dad and stepmom. I would be fine with them taking care of the twins, but I am not fine with the basic idea of going off to Europe and leaving them out of the experience. Even though they won’t remember it, we will have photos, and I will have memories of bringing them to tell them later. It will also get us out of the rut that most parents (and non-parents!) experience of never going anywhere. DH maintains that we won’t be able to make many memories since the babies will cramp our sightseeing style throughout the day. Since neither of us can win the argument, we’re just not going to go at all.

Would it be worthwhile for Burrito and Tamale to have an experience that they won’t remember? They already have all sorts of experiences that they won’t remember. But, most of those are enjoyable for the rest of us. International travel has the potential for being enjoyable but also for being exhausting and less fun than I may be imagining. Plus, it’s a few thousand dollars that we don’t particularly have right now.

Even in a few years, when they’re capable of forming memories, there will still be all sorts of experiences they forget. It’s a conversation that DH and I will keep needing to have, but I still plan to raise little jetsetters. They won’t remember everything, but they will start to remember enough. Even when they don’t remember, over time the experience of being immersed in different cultures will give them a broad perspective on the world and its people. DH’s current stance is that before we can bring them abroad, they need to be able to carry luggage. I can live with that. In the meantime, we’ll do lots of domestic travel, which DH is willing to do, and we’ll show them worldly picture books.

Three or four years from now, if you’re in an airport in St. Petersburg or Dunedin or Naples (Russia, New Zealand, and Italy, respectively — not Florida), and you see little boy-girl twins carrying their own little suitcases alongside a tall man and a woman with long dark hair, come say hi. Even if they won’t remember it, I’d still be glad for them to meet you.

If there will be no memory of an experience, is it still worth experiencing?

Guessing Game: The Answer

Following up on yesterday’s Guessing Game about the breakdown of fertiles, infertiles, and unknowns at a twin club meeting…

The correct answer, if you include me, was 40%, 40%, 20%.

I totally did not bring IF up just to answer the Guessing Game, promise. I wasn’t even the first one to talk about infertility.

It started with “when in the pregnancy did you know you were having twins?” I had the record for the earliest diagnosis, but my IVF compadre had similar timing. The latest diagnosis was 21 weeks, obviously one of the fertile women.

Perhaps most strangely, mine were the only preemies. A room full of full-term twins? I did not expect that.

I recommend multiples clubs for other reasons like child socialization and the fabulous sales that most clubs hold, but I’m on the fence about the mommy experience. There was literally not one minute of talk that wasn’t about mommy or baby topics.

There may be some Not Only A Mommy women in the club, but I didn’t find any at this gathering, or at least they weren’t acting like it. Not that I was bringing up scintillating topics either — but, true to form, there were a few minutes when the fertiles were asking about how certain treatments work and suddenly I was holding forth in front of the room.

Now a Mommy, stilll always an Infertile.

Guessing Game

I’m headed to a get-together for my local multiples club. What do you think the breakdown will be for the following categories?

1. Fertile, had twins via happenstance or genetics
2. Infertile, had twins via treatments
3. Does not disclose

1/3, 1/3, 1/3?
1/4, 1/4, 1/2?
1/10, 1/2, 2/5?
Some other proportion?
C’mon, guess! You know you’d be guessing in your head if you were in the room.

I’m pretty sure the club member with 9 kids fits into category #1. She won’t be there, thank goodness, and neither will her 9 kids.

Back In

(Child mentioned.)

Last month when DH accidentally mentioned our infertility in earshot of his Dad, I thought our secret was finally out.

Apparently his Dad is so discrete that he didn’t tell anyone, even his own wife. We’re back in the closet.

I was talking about Burrito’s colic to my step-MIL — who’d gone through infertility and miscarriages herself. I was not complaining, just describing.

My Step-MIL: Imagine what someone who’d gone through years of fertility troubles would feel. She’d appreciate everything about the baby, even the unpleasant things.
Me: Blank stare.

WTF?

I know in my heart that I appreciate my babies more than most mothers on this planet. My immense love and appreciation for their presence in my life don’t make it non-distressing for a baby to scream nonstop. For several hours a day. For weeks.

Imaginary retort:

You know what a mother who’d gone through years of infertility and losses would feel? She’d want to be able to care for both of her children during those hours instead of giving one more attention than the other. She would still have a hard-wired biological reaction to a screaming baby. She’d love her baby so much that she’d want him not to be miserable for several hours a day.

And she’s the good mother-in-law!

Thoughtful Thursday: Memento

Burrito and Tamale are 2 1/2 times the size they were at birth, which means they’ve outgrown all of their preemie clothes and almost all of their 0-3 month clothes. I’ve been rotating out the small clothes to make way for the next size. I’ve been putting everything into a box, with the boy and neutral clothes soon headed for my SIL’s upcoming baby, henceforth to be known on the blog as my nephew Murphy.

I’ve gotten quite nostalgic about some of the clothes, either due to the tiny size, memories of specific times that the clothes were worn, or the cuteness of the outfits themselves. As I put them into the hand-me-down box, I often have the impulse that I should keep them as mementos instead of passing them along.

So far, the only item I’ve actually kept out of the box has been one (but not all) of their NICU hats, which DH describes as “iconic.” I’ve been willing to relinquish potential heirlooms such as booties knitted for the babies by relatives, yet I’m reluctant to part with a store-bought sleeper that just happens to only fit preemies under 7 pounds and just happens to have adorable monkeys. To what end? So that my grandchildren can wear it someday, if G-d forbid they happen to be preemies? So that I can pull it out of the closet as my children get older and bore them with stories of how tiny they were? So that I can selectively idolize the past, ignoring all of the bad emotions that accompanied the good? When I pick up an article of outgrown clothing, kiss it and start crying, DH looks at me like I’ve lost it. Maybe I have.

Lest you think my sentimentality began with motherhood, I’ve also kept mementos of the creation process, from IVF pottery to fertility talismans to art purchased to inspire me during treatment cycles. Some of them retain their inherent functional or aesthetic value, but some, like the fertility talismans, probably aren’t serving any purpose just sitting in my jewelry box.

Outside of family building, my main mementos tend to be photographs. When I have photos, I don’t need t-shirts or keychains to remind me that I went somewhere or did something. Except for that picture frame I bought on my favorite bridge, which I’m storing in the closet for a few years until I go back there with my children and can put a photo of them on the bridge into the frame. Or those jerseys I bought at foreign sporting events. Or the handmade journal from that tiny shop in Rome. Or that huge box of ticket stubs… You get the idea.

It’s a funny balance to try to memorialize the past, look to the future, and mindfully embrace the present. With every hand-me-down that I actually hand down instead of tucking away for posterity, I’m trying to move forward. Even when doing so makes me cry.

What do you keep? Why do you keep what you keep?

Perfect Moment Monday: First Encounter

(Children mentioned and sort of pictured)

Perfect Moment #1:
DH’s grandmother’s health isn’t deteriorating as much as we were led to believe. Given her age, she’s doing fantastic. We don’t know what the future will hold, but that’s true for all of us.

Perfect Moment #2:
Although I couldn’t manage some other introductions I wanted to make, I conquered infertility in time for her to meet her first great-grandchildren. She smiled from ear to ear. She called over everyone within earshot to share in the cuteness. “Come meet my twins!”

Perfect Moment #3:
Burrito, age 16 weeks, reaches out to his great-grandmother, age 99 years.

Go encounter some other Perfect Moments.

Thoughtful Thursday: Ancestor

DH and I each have one living grandparent. We plan to bring the babies to meet my grandmother in a few months, and they’ll meet his grandmother in a few days. We hadn’t planned to see either of them until the spring when the weather is better, but his grandmother’s health is deteriorating, and we want to be sure that we make the trip before it’s too late.

I’m thrilled to be able to introduce her to the babies, despite the circumstances, but it also makes me think of those who never got the chance. In particular, DH’s other grandmother, who died a few years ago and in whose honor Tamale is named.

As I described in a post from a year and a half ago, she would have loved these babies so very much, and they would have been so lucky to know her. If she were still alive, she would no longer be able to bake them birthday cakes or knit them sweaters or take them on outings, as she used to do for DH and his siblings. Some things, however, would remain the same. Despite the arthritis and osteoporosis and other diseases of aging, she still would have insisted that Burrito and Tamale eat some fruit when they arrived at her house, and she would have filled their pockets with candy as they left, and in between they would have laughed and smiled and gotten their heads patted and been called a term of endearment in her native language.

I started TTC four years before she died, and Burrito and Tamale were born almost four years after that. Of all the negative ways in which infertility has affected my life, preventing my children from meeting this special woman is probably the one that hurts the most.

On the bright side, they have two other great-grandmothers, two step-great-grandparents, and all of their grandparents. They have many other people to pat their heads, call them exotic nicknames in Old World accents, and fill their pockets with candy. And, legacies of their late great-grandmother’s love still exist. I have a precious box filled with sweaters she knitted for DH and his siblings when they were young, which Burrito and Tamale will wear throughout early childhood. Tamale will carry their shared name all her life. At least for now, Burrito has her hair color. On special occasions, I will cook some of her recipes for them. I will eventually bring them to her homeland. They can look at photos of her as a child, a young woman, a new grandmother, and an old grandmother. They will hear stories from all of us. Many years from now, I will give Tamale her great-grandmother’s ring. They will hear her philosophy that family is more important than anything. Even though she never met them, they will know that she loved them, very very much.

Who did you never get the chance to introduce to your children? Why do you wish they had met?

Intelligentsia Thing

Welcome to the slightly belated Intelligentsia “thing” I’ve been promising. First we’ll celebrate the people who commented on every Thoughtful Thursday post for the month of December, then we’ll do the thing.

Wiseguy from Woman Anyone? finishes the year with her perfect record of 12 Intelligentsia appearances, making her the only person to comment on every Thoughtful Thursday for 2009. Hoooooray!

Photogrl from Not the Path I Chose thinks 8 is great.

Jill from All Aboard the Pity Boat enjoyed lucky #7.

Lost In Translation from We Say IVF, They Say FIV completed her sixth Intelligentsia stint.

Jules from Just Multiply by 2 came back for the fifth time.

Elana from Elana’s Musings and Stacie from Heeeeere Storkey Storkey three-peated.

A from Are You Kidding Me? and Lori, a.k.a. Lavender Luz, from Weebles Wobblog returned for #2.

And now, the thing.

To celebrate one year of Thoughtful Thursdays, I’d like to give gifts to the Intelligentsia: fulfilling the hypothetical question of where they’d spend their charity dollars if I handed them the money.

Each of the people who responded to last week’s charity TT question directly, who was also a member of the Intelligentsia at any point last year, will be included. A few Intelligentsia members didn’t mention a specific charity, so in their general honor I’ve donated $100 to Partners in Health for Haitian earthquake relief.

Cat talked about Heifer International, specifically, a share of a water buffalo because it sounds funny. In addition to the comedy value, a water buffalo also enables a poor farmer to quadruple his rice yield. That water buffalo is on his way, Cat — don’t worry, he’s not coming to your house.

Kristin discussed Ronald McDonald House. This charity is newly close to our hearts, since we stayed at the House next to the hospital (over an hour from my home) while Burrito and Tamale were in the NICU. I’ve made a donation to that particular Ronald McDonald house.

Elana talked about donating to one of the Jewish schools in her area. In that spirit, I’ve made a donation to a Jewish school in my area.

Wiseguy named SOS Children’s Villages. I hadn’t heard of this charity before, but it sounds very worthwhile. They’ll be getting a donation as well.

Photogrl passionately described about honoring her mother with a gift to NOCC, the National Ovarian Cancer Coalition. I’ll be making a donation in memory of her mother.

Finally, on the topic of disaster relief which kicked the whole discussion off, A talked about the Red Cross. As you wish.

By the way, if you donate to the Red Cross or another disaster relief organization, I recommend an unrestricted gift (on the Red Cross website, “where the need is greatest”), which is ultimately far more helpful for organizations than one earmarked for a specific area or situation. Unfortunately, it won’t be long until the next disaster or incident somewhere else in the world.

I’m looking forward to another great year of Thoughtfulness! Thanks to everyone who participated in 2009.

Thoughtful Thursday: Charity

(Sorry, Intelligentsia thing mentioned in the last post is not ready yet.)

This week’s earthquake in Haiti, like many natural and man-made disasters in the past, has stirred many people to want to help. In the corner of my TV screen and various webpages are calls to donate money to various relief organizations.

Personally, I don’t tend to be reactive with charity. Yes, I was in line with 1000 other people on September 12, 2001 to donate blood, but I was also in line, often the only one, every couple of months for years before that with regular blood donations. I have several regular charities to which I donate money and tend to stick to those, no matter how many calls I get from the Police Action League or depressing commercials I see.

I typically donate to several (but not all) of the schools I attended as well as one particular animal rescue organization. Schools’ alumni giving rate is a factor in rankings as well as eligibility for grants; in addition, I feel a genuine connection and loyalty to the schools to which I donate — and not so much to the schools I attended to which I don’t donate.

We chose to make the animal rescue organization our primary charity for several reasons. My husband especially is an animal lover like you wouldn’t believe. This particular rescue has policies and practices that we heartily endorse. We’ve been there in person and seen the good work that they do, and we’ve had our faces licked by a few of the residents. I know that most of the money is going to the intended purpose rather than overhead or marketing; it is all too common for charities to spend a large chunk of their donations on getting more donations (hint: if you’re seeing commercials on TV or getting tote bags in the mail, your dollars are not going where you intended). I specifically like animal rescue as a cause because it feels like the money is really going somewhere: it will feed a specific animal for a certain amount of time, or it will spay one particular stray, or it will pay for one particular treatment. I don’t know if we can ever cure cancer or end homelessness, but an end to killing healthy animals due to human irresponsibility is actually an achievable goal in the near future.

I also donated money and pottery last year to Share Southern Vermont. First of all, Cara is my bloggy friend, and her passion for the cause is contagious. Second, I know where the money is going. Finally and probably most important, each dollar makes much more of an impact than it would at a huge national or international charity. As with the animal charity, I know that specific families dealing with loss will be helped by my donation. As the Second Wave feminists taught us, the personal is the political.

Where do your charity dollars go? Why do you choose the charities that you do? If I handed you $100 to donate, where would you want it to go?