I need a place to put it all down

and leave it be.

Some days, more specifically today, my head swirls around the question about whether or not our family is complete.

In the days immediately following Babel's birth, I made TH promise we wouldn't have to have another child if I didn't want to. What a kind thing for me to do, hormonal and swollen to bits, scarred from birth both physically and emotionally, and begging TH through tears not to make "us" go through that all again.

We've always wanted two kids. I used to hope for twins on the 2nd so I could con TH into a third. All that was pre-infertility, though. What a gamechanger that infertility was, though.

Now, we've been thrown another loop. Babel's cataracts are X-linked; my father had cataracts as a baby, as well. We don't know the mutation that caused the cataracts, but we do know that I'm the carrier. When I let my mind wander, which isn't often, I wonder if any of this has to do with the chemical pregnancies. If we had a boy, which I've always thought would be the case, there's a 50% chance he'd have cataracts, too.

What do I do with that knowledge?

Babel could be facing more surgeries to correct the strabismus (lazy eye) that has developed as a result of the cataracts/removal. I'm currently at home with him, but for how long? We originally wanted about 4 years between children (feel free to roll your eyes at an infertile's timeline...I certainly do), but if I'm going to stay home longer to care for Babel during his patching, eye drops, maybe vision therapy, etc, maybe it's better to bite the bullet and get things started? I've been sailing along without a plan quite happily, but after 3/4 of a year without a plan, I'm starting to need one. Is it selfish to want to know when I'll return to my career? I LOVE being home with Babel. Finances are manageable, but I think TH and I both miss a little more cushion in the budget. I think we both agree that something part-time in my field might be best, but I think we both feel a little uneasy about Babel's care for that part-time work. And how would we handle more surgeries? It was a definite blessing for me to be home for all of the follow-up (and there was a LOT). I know we'll work it all out, but until we formulate the first decisions of the plan, nothing can fall into place.

It was complicated with just the infertility. Now, it feels overwhelming. Give Babel a sibling who may be his closest confidant in all that he'll experience in life? Give him a sibling who may not have the same vision issues? Would one be better than the other? When I think from Babel's perspective, I don't think he'd be concerned. I just see him with a brother, two little boys getting into mischief and growing into tall men that kiss their mother when they enter her kitchen on holidays after a long time away.

Is that my answer? Because in all the times I have tossed these questions and scenarios around in my head, I've never put myself in my son's shoes. What's wrong with me? How did I miss that important perspective until just now?

Babel is nothing short of amazing. Yes, I'm his mom and am biased, but there's just something about him. I've been saying this since he was a fresh group of cells in my belly. Babel has not been upended with the events of the past few months; he's steady, strong, determined, and unfazed. The adults around him, save myself mostly, have been in turmoil. And I think while I haven't been caught up in the emotions of the diagnosis and treatments, I think I'm getting caught up in these family building questions, as the true infertile in me knows how. We're currently half keeping an eye on any potential for a pregnancy and half throwing caution to the wind. Perhaps my answer is to keep things open and to just figure out what we want to do about my working situation. Maybe Babel's companion will help work everything out for us, if we start to work things out for ourselves.

I can't help but feel I would be completely okay with Babel alone, but part of me feels that's selfish. That's the easy road for me. When I think about an older Babel, I see him with his arm around a little version of himself, a companion through the years. Two sweet boys that are the best of friends. I see this image vividly and frequently, and maybe to consciously choose against it isn't the way to go. But when I see this boys, I don't see their faces. Maybe I don't really need to think about their eyes. Maybe I need to listen to what I've been saying for weeks and remember that their eyes aren't going to define them. In that image, they are just there, together, leaning on each other. Isn't that all that matters?

A Long Overdue Update

The past two months have been, oh, a bit of a whirlwind. At the end of June, Babel had his first surgery to remove the cataract. We were a little surprised about just how groggy he was following the surgery, but after all the stress, TH and I were very glad to have a long day of napping with the drugged little guy.



Surgery #1 was followed by a ridiculous amount of follow-up appts. In the week following the surgery, we went to the pediatric ophthalmologist (herein forever, "PO"), Dr. Quirky, 5 times. We skipped a day, but we made up for it with two trips in one day due to blood drops coming from Babel's eye.

Yes, his eye bled. Not tears mixed with blood. Drops of blood falling from his baby eye. It was even scarier than the first time I started spotting with the first chemical. TH got us to the city in less than 20 minutes, and that was with a bunch of traffic. It was decided that we watch too many medical dramas, but thankfully, all was well with the little guy's eye. Dr. Quirky, in true just the right amount of quirky form, couldn't definitively tell us why the blood happened, but he assured us all was well.

During all of this, my mom was with us to help out. It didn't work out entirely as planned, but it was better to have her here than not. She was really preoccupied with work she needed to do during the three weeks she was here, and we just weren't very cohesive in sharing care. I don't really know how to explain it; it wasn't terrible, it wasn't great, it just was.

Over the 4th of July, the rest of the fam came and we had our annual BBQ. Babel stole the show and all was well. He was ridiculously spoiled by Uncle Oldest Younger Brother, who is 17 and would set his alarm for 730am to wake up to play with Babel. It was pretty darn cute.

When the rest of the fam left (ie, the boys), Mom and The Belle stayed behind to help out with Surgery #2. It went just as easily as the first surgery, as by this time, we were old pros. We had the same issue with the 2nd eye bleeding, only this time it stayed in the eye and filled the white part of his eye. We ended up with a trip the ER to confirm that all was well, and it was. I think Babel just really likes this hospital. ;)



We started Babel out in glasses following surgery, and they were a pretty emotional ride for the mama. I went through a variety of emotions, most not pretty, while trying to accept glasses as part of Babel's adorable little face. He lasted about 3 weeks in them before we moved to contacts, and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't miss those glasses just a little bit. I had been so worried about the aesthetics of them, whether we'd hear rude comments that a fragile mama couldn't handle, and whether or not I could get used to his "new" face. Turns out that I love that new face just as much, maybe even more, than I love that little face without glasses. When we're out walking now and I'm pushing the stroller, I sometimes have to remind myself that no one is going to comment on how cute he looks in his glasses...because he's not wearing them!


He's been in contacts now for two weeks. After the first week, we had to change his Rx and size because they kept sliding down in his eye (de-centering). He's developed a bit of strabismus in the left eye, the one that was operated on 2nd. They've changed the contacts to hopefully help that, but the change seems minimal. We're now patching his good eye once a day for an hour at a time, something he's not too fond of. The crossing is sometimes very, very hard to watch. TH pointed out to me that I make a little whimper when it's turning in a lot, so my new uncomfortable habit is to squeeze my hands into fists. :/ Not my finest moments, but it's really not easy to see. It makes me want to squeeze the little guy to BITS.

Overall, we're doing pretty well. Babel is mobile and into EVERYthing. He taught himself to crawl at 6 mos, in between the two surgeries. He quickly got himself up by pulling to a standing position. He thinks lots of things are hilarious, and he likes to pant like a puppy when he's *really* happy. I use the phrase, "Not for babies!" at least 10 times a day, but it secretly makes me happy because I know that he can see the things he's getting into, even if they really aren't for babies. :) Yesterday, he was picking at a dirty spot on the floor, and I about kissed him AND the dirt fleck on the floor. He can see!! The 2nd pair of contacts, while the Rx is a little lower than they'd like, seem to be working very well.

TH and I are coping, but we're not always doing it so gracefully. We've completely swapped roles of me being the rock while he has a harder time adjusting to the changes and our new, permanent situation. Things keep getting thrown at us right after we adjust to the "new norm", and I wish I could say we were as strong as we're capable of being.

Babel needs to have his eye pressure checked on Wednesday, which requires anesthesia, since he's too little to hold still for the measurements while awake. If you have some spare good vibes, we could definitely use them. It will still be hard to leave him in the OR for the procedure, even though it's "simple and easy". They are also a little concerned that his eye pressures may be rising and glaucoma beginning, which would not be good. If it is in fact up, it could be from the prednisolone drops he's still taking (and tapering). At any rate, we don't want glaucoma to start, so we would really appreciate some good thoughts in that direction.

I'm still trying to write more often. The days have been one big blur, one week becoming the next with little distinction. Things finally seem to be slowing down, but like I mentioned, once we adjust to the "new" thing, something newer just seems to immediately pop up. We're exhausted and stressed but still head over heels for the little guy, despite all the things that are trying to hold him back. He's having none of it; and if you asked him, he'd tell you nothing big has happened these past few months. Well, maybe not. He'd probably tell you to get out of his way...he has some exploring to do at those toys right behind you...