A day trip without you

Your daddy and I went on a day trip yesterday. I missed having you there. Getting out there was uneventful, and kinda of boring. If you'd been there we would have talked to you about what we saw - the trees, the signs, the towns we passed. We'd have sung songs and looked for out of state license plates.

We probably would have had a clearer destination in mind so we wouldn't spend an hour driving around looking for the best place to park to get to the beach - or maybe that part would have been the same. We drove aimlessly, in a really good way, exploring a wildlife refuge on an island between the marsh and the ocean. We walked down natural paths and on boardwalk paths through the marsh and woods. We sat on a bench in a "bird blind" (bird viewing area) and watched storks and seagulls glide over the grasses and water. We raced back to the car and your dad let me win. We both would have let you win if you'd been with us, and read the signs in the bird blind to you.

We climbed an observation tower and had lunch. Daddy would have shown you the beaver dam we saw and how to tell if the water was at high, half, or low tide. Our walk on the marsh boardwalk would have been slower, and we would probably have read through the trail guide and talked to you about what plants and animals we saw. And I would have had to wash both you and Daddy down for having been touched by poison ivy back at the car!

We would have parked in the park ranger's parking space to go to the beach earlier than we did, and I might have gone into the water with you, or watched while you and Daddy played in the ocean and made sand castles. I would have held your hand as we walked over the rocks and helped you try to make a cairn or a shelter from driftwood. There wouldn't have been time for me to do logic puzzles or knit, but I would have had so much more fun playing with you than doing any of those things.

You may have gotten tired and fallen apart in the car as we drove around the shore area and looked at houses. We may have stopped and eaten earlier if you'd wanted to. We may have gotten out and looked at the carnival we came across if you'd wanted to. As it was, we ended up strolling through a picturesque seaside area as shops were closing up and having really great, cheap food and watching a baseball game on a huge TV. You would have loved it, if you'd still been awake.

And even during our moon viewing, which was very peaceful and romantic with just the two of us, I couldn't help wondering how the scene would look if you were there. Would you be asleep in one of our arms, or in a stroller? Sitting between us and helping us come up with ideas of what the moon looked like as the clouds slid past it? Hopping around and having us chase you away from the dangerous rock slope?

You and I would both have fallen asleep on the way home - or maybe not. Daddy usually needs the windows open so the cool air keeps him alert. Maybe I would have driven (with the windows closed) so you two could sleep. When we got home, we would have carried you in and tucked you in to bed before we unpacked the bag and cooler and gotten ready for bed ourselves. And this morning, you and I might have made breakfast for Daddy, or started our house cleaning chores, or watched cartoons until Daddy got up.

I miss you and really want to take day trips with you when you get here. The sooner the better. :)
Love you,
Mommy

Another try

Today was the IUI, so hopefully you are getting your cells together right now and making the trip to go implant in a few days. I really hope you decide to show up this time because we miss having you here already. Your dad is going away for most of next month, so wouldn't it be nice for him to know about you before he goes? All the cramping and other physically painful stuff I'm going through is going to be worth it when I can finally meet you. I know you're going to make this family feel complete.
Please come soon.
Love,
Mom

You get one, *maybe* two more tries before they're bringing out the big guns

Okay, baby. They're talking about going to IVF in August, so if you're up for doing this without starting your life in a petri dish, I strongly suggest you get ready for fertilization in the next week or so. Thursday at the earliest, through the weekend or next next week. There may be one more chance after that before things get serious. Please consider the benefits of a) having this current donor be your biological father and b) not putting your mommy through surgery and daily injections. Because we'll have to find another donor and I'll have to take time off of a new job if we do IVF. It's not a pretty picture, so here's my written request to please show up before that happens. I know your job isn't to be convenient, but just think about it this one time.
Thanks sweetie.
Love,
Mom

You're not even conceived yet and I'm already worried about you!

Fast worker, kid. I've been on a rollercoaster of hope/ hopelessness/ more hope the past 36 hours, on your behalf. Do you exist? Do you not? Was there enough motile sperm to make you? The doctor's office called and recommended we switch donors next time. No breaking the news gently that this time is a bust, just blunt facts and recommendations without an attempt (that I can understand) to explain what's going on. However, I'm still waiting and hoping. Why? Because your Daddy rocks. He called the office (well, lab) back and got more information from a more helpful, sympathetic person. And that person said you've still got a chance. Let's hope you've got some of the guinea stubbornness in you from me and Nana and fight for your existence and implant. You can do this. I know it seems like a long journey, but you can do it.

I love you so much.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Baby

The IUI was yesterday. I hope you are in the process of being created right this minute inside me. You are so incredibly wanted, and we've been waiting a long time for you. Both of us want you to join are family very soon! Please let this be the month you decide to start growing and can meet us in nine months.

Things are great without you, but they'll be even better once you're here. Your parents love each other very much and have a lot of fun together. We know that this is a time that you'll never really believe existed or be able to completely visualize (the time before you were born), but know somewhere in your unconsciousness that you've been thought of for years and have been part of the family for a long time, even though you're not here yet.

We already have names picked out. But we do want to meet you to make sure the name suits you, specifically, before we announce them, even to you. (Maybe when you're a little closer to meeting us I'll whisper them to you.)

I'm here. Your mom. Just waiting for you to decide to join us here on earth. I hope you're here soon, as there are so very many of us wanting to see you. My parents, and your dad's parents, and all of our families. You'll have three aunts and three uncles and TONS of honorary aunts and uncles and great-aunts and great-uncles. And two great-grandmothers. (But only one of those great-grandmothers will see you often - you're going to adore Nana. She's so eager to meet you!!) You'll be the first grandchild on both sides of the family. Oh, you are going to be so spoiled by them all!

Your dad is raring to go playing baby games and teaching you how to play soccer and baseball when you get older and sing you songs. I can't wait to sing and play pretend and blocks and do craft projects and read you every book I can get my hands on. I hope you'll like to read and sing as much as I do, and that you'll have your dad's blue eyes and sense of adventure.

I want you. I am waiting for you, and I love you so much already. I can't wait to hold you in my arms and tell you about our family and all my hopes and dreams for you. Since I can't hold you yet, I am writing you these letters to let you know how wanted you are, and to let you get a feel for us and your family before you get here.

I love you, baby.

Love,

Mommy