Today, this blog (such as it is) turned a year old.

More importantly, this was egg retrieval / conception day one year ago too — the day our beloved Emerson came into existance.

Amazing. How different life is now.

On reflection, I still think our going through IVF (the good, bad, and ugly) was one of the greatest experiences of my life. It has given me a greater appreciation for the gift of having a child. It’s something I will never take for granted.

I recall–and hope to always remember–the shear majesty of it all, especially the embryo transfer. For me, it was sublime and life affirming. In short, it was a miracle (this from a a lapsed Catholic / secular humanist / Christian agnostic)… made real before my eyes.

Everyone should be so lucky.

We’re still in a holding pattern just waiting for E to make her grand debut.

As the days tick by, it looks like we’ll be headed more and more for the induction on the 9th. I’m not really worried or concerned about what lies ahead. I’m actually feeling pretty calm.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this previously, but long before we started TTC (and had any idea about IF), I had a lot of apprehensions about the whole ‘getting pregnant’ thing. I just sort of had this sense that we were jumping into the deep end of the pool without knowing how to swim or having any of those little inflatable ‘floaties’ on our arms.

I pretty much despaired over the entire process.

After a while, I came to hate TTC naturally when month after month yielded no results. Good grief, I felt like the prize stallion at the Irish National Stud Farm. When we finally went to the reproductive medicine clinic, I worried about the implications of finding out something was ‘wrong’ with one of us or (possibly worse) finding ‘nothing wrong’ as a case of unexplained infertility.

I think I only came into my own when then the shit hit the proverbial fan and we had a clear diagnosis. Finally! I had something we could do something about. Blocked tubes, who knew?

From that point forward, I’ve become increasingly sanguine about the whole thing. My sense of foreboding has entirely cleared. I’m no longer worried.

Was I somehow psychic and sensed the infertility problems?

Perhaps, I’ve had the first known case of ‘mantuition’ (male intuition)?

I don’t know. I just know that I’m feeling quite contented waiting to meet our daughter.

I’d planned on writing a post-Christmas summary of what’s been going on in Babyland.

However, I read something yesterday from our online friend and fellow blogger Myndi that simply broke my heart. She suffered a miscarriage on Dec 23. As a small sign of solidarity and in respect for her mourning, I’m going to defer further baby-related updates until after the New Year.

I was very shaken by this turn of events. Indeed, I cried (literally and which, frankly, surprised me) after reading what had happened and could hardly bring myself to tell L (who was also shaken and moved by the news). I’m not sure that I would have been more upset had Myndi been a friend in “real life” or even had she been a sister (of course, I’m an only child — so there’s really no way to know). Then again, our online IVF community is—in many ways—not detached from “real life”… indeed, I speak more of these matters to you (all two…perhaps three now… of you reading these posts) than I do to most of the people in the “real world.”

I also can’t imagine what it most be like to go through such a loss. I realize miscarriage is always an “option.” It is, in fact, a natural (if unpleasant) element of the process of human reproduction. Intellectually, I get that. Indeed, that’s one of the reasons why we opted for the shared risk program, which “protects” you by allowing multiple chances until you successfully bring home a live baby from the hospital. Yet, I also realize—now more than ever—that the program lacks any sort of emotional shared risk. And, that can be a far heavier burden to carry.

So, I find myself feeling sad about Myndi’s loss, grateful (and a bit guilty) for our good fortune, and really hopeful that things work out for Myndi and PB in the near future (as well as continue to run smoothly for us).

A few days ago a new issue of Exhale Magazine came out. In a departure from the narrative of my column, Monica published the piece of creative non-fiction that got me started with Exhale. It’s called “Sticking It In My Wife’s Ass,” which isn’t nearly as dirty as it sounds. For those who’ve gone through IVF, I think you might enjoy this rather unique male perspective on “unnatural” bedroom acts.

I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that until the proverbial bun is closer to exiting the oven expectant fathers have almost nothing to do. I’m not saying that L’s pregnancy has been dragging on forever… only that it’s pretty boring siting in the parking lot at Fatherland waiting for the gates to open. I think it’s one of the reasons—in addition to a lot of travel and work responsibilities—that I haven’t posted a lot on the blog lately. There’s really not a lot to talk about. Pregnancy-wise everything has been (blissfully) normal and uneventful.

In some ways, it’s a lot like the waiting to start IVF. Once the plan was in place and the treatment paid for, we pretty much just sat around and waited for the games to begin. My (online) friend Myndi, who’s getting ready to start an IVF cycle, was commenting on this the other day.

So, here we are: standing around in the kitchen….

She’s waiting for her dough to rise. For my part, I’m waiting for the cinnamon bun to get a little closer to done before I start making the icing and putting on the coffee.