I think I’ve mentioned before that I used to blog anonymously about infertility. Eventually I ended that blog and started BBT with intention of “keeping things light” and not talking about infertility at all.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
Anywayyyyy…the other day I randomly got a new subscriber to my old blog (and person, if you’re reading this, prepare to be disappointed!). Totally weird, since I haven’t posted there since 2011. But it did prompt me to go back and re-read some of my old (fantastically heartbreaking) posts.
I was SO miserable. The sadness seeps out through every word. And while it’s fairly obvious (and probably fairly annoying) that I’m happy a lot of the time now, reading those old posts just reaffirmed how much everything has changed. I can’t believe how different I am these days.
And then I stumbled across this post, and it made me feel all the feels, so I thought I would share it with you here (on Throwback Thursday, of course).
If anyone out there is still waiting for their miracle…you never know. You just never know what’s 3.5 years down the road.
Waiting for Molly
(original post date: May 12th, 2011)
Back before we were married, before we were seriously dating, even before we were officially “a couple” – we named our daughter.
I remember thinking to myself it was strange at the time. Strange that a 20-something man would be so willing to discuss future baby names so soon. Strange that with our opposite taste, we could actually reach an agreement on a name. And eventually, strange that once she had a name, she became real.
I vaguely remember the conversation, and I also remember discussing a slew of names before excitedly discovering that one girls name, out of hundreds, seemed to fit us perfectly. This was not a name simply chosen at random, it was the product of an intensely serious conversation that bordered on argument. After that was settled, we started to offhandedly refer to her in conversation. “I really hope Molly has your hair, mine is too thin”… “I’m pretty sure Molly is going to have your dimples, too”… “If Molly has ADD as bad as you do, I’m going to need some Prozac” …and so on. Without meaning to, or trying to, Molly took on a life of her own before our eyes.
When we broke up, I thought about Molly, or rather, the lack of Molly. Because without the two of us, she could never be. If we had never reunited and I had married someone else, there is no possible way I would have used that name, regardless of how much I love it. Our little girl was just as much his as she was mine, and only the two of us could create her.
As you may imagine, this IF struggle has only added to the urgency of Molly. I cannot explain with words how much I know she is there. I can truly picture her little soul hovering above us, waiting patiently for us to get it right. It’s equally heartbreaking and uplifting to feel her presence every single day. And as impatient and frustrated as I get, I guess it does feel better to know she is there. Even if I never get to meet her in this lifetime (worst case scenario!) I have no doubt I will see her on the other side.
So anyway, the fact that this psychic got it right is eerie. Sure, she had a 50/50 chance, but I have no doubt that I would have discredited her immediately if she had said boy. When I told Hubs the story, he just smiled and said, “That’s our Molly.” Well, of course it is – who else could it be?
Now wouldn’t it be funny if we had a boy first.