Updated at the bottom:

AlphaMom recently had a question on the Advice Smackdown about giving pregnancy announcements to those who are infertile or have lost a child. I’m pointing this out mostly because it was actually some great advice and great advice needs to be applauded, especially when we all know there is some shitty advice streaming around out there. Amalah’s response is sound and circumspect, explaining how to give information while keeping in mind the listener. It’s advice that could apply to a whole host of situations.

But reading the original letter, I was thinking about a scene in Across the Universe (I know, I know, how many more times can I mention the Beatles in one week?) where the family is arguing at the Thanksgiving table. The uncle tells his nephew: “Maxwell, what you do defines who you are.” And the boy responds: “Who you are defines what you do. Right Jude?” His friend, Jude holds the key piece of advice in his answer: “Well, surely it’s not what you do, but the, uh… the way that you do it.”

Because the art of communication cannot be reduced to a formula: email + news = good response. Communication is a grey area that requires the person to take a step back and approach the situation with circumspection, placing themselves in the listener’s shoes and considering how they would like to receive the information.

The only thing the letter says is that her friend “decided to email the news a friend who recently lost her baby at 24 weeks gestation.” And yes, using a medium that gives the listener time to compose themselves rather than stating the news in a public space is thoughtful, but like Jude says: “it’s not what you do, but the way that you do it.”

The reality is that without knowing what was emailed, the reaction of the listener becomes a moot point. We know that “The friend who lost the baby responded very poorly to the news and accused my best friend of being insensitive and selfish, when really she was trying to be the opposite.” She may have been trying to be the opposite, but without the original email, it’s difficult to understand the reaction or offer advice except to reframe how we give news in general.

I mean, did she email and sensitively acknowledge the situation of the other person and then share her news and then step back and allow the other person–the person who maybe needs it more–to take the lead? Or did she email, but write something along the lines of “I have great news!!! I’m pregnant and here are the last three sonogram pictures because I just know you’ll want to see them!!! Baby dust!”

Er…which is sort of akin to calling up your recently widowed Grandma and shrieking, “I’m getting married and we are so in love and you are just going to love our wedding. We are young, young, young, and just starting out our life, you decrepit old woman!”

Okay, perhaps not that drastic, but the way we say something tells a lot about how much we’re actually paying attention to the other person and communicating with them rather than just speaking at people because we have news and we want to share it, damnit!

Think of it this way: even when you are imparting information, you are entering a conversation. Some people hold what is essentially a conversation without listening, meaning, they start talking without noticing what is happening around them and with little regard in actuality (though a different amount in theory) for the person taking in the information.

Just as we expect people at the office to notice that we are deeply engrossed in work because we’re on a deadline and it’s not a great time to jump into a conversation about another project, we expect people to take into account things happening in our lives (as best they can know) when starting a conversation with us. Email and the telephone mean that we don’t have the visual cues that we depend on to know whether it’s a good time to impart information. But we can still hold a conversation with listening, which means taking into account the silent words being spoken by the listener before we start speaking aloud our actual words.

The comment section, though, is where the true conversation starts to unfold concerning the post which has a multitude of great points the most important one being that there isn’t a way to truly state the best way to give sensitive information because everyone has a different preference. One agreed email was best, another said they’d rather hear it through the grapevine than be singled out. And over and over again, the point was made that you could do everything “right” and that when someone is in emotional pain, you’re most likely not going to be able to create the response you want to see.

Think of it this way, go slam your hand in the door. I’ll wait. That was painful, right? You’re screaming right now and shaking your hand in pain. This wouldn’t, of course, be the best time to brightly smile and tell you my good news, would it? Though sometimes, we need to give news so a person holding their throbbing hand would still understand that sometimes news needs to be delivered when we’re not in the best space to hear it, and hopefully, if it’s delivered well, we can roll with the poor timing.

At the same time, we all know that physical pain tends to recede and become forgotten whereas emotional pain has longer staying power. And knowing this, her friend is in emotional pain and while she may still need to hear information, the reaction to that news should be viewed through the lens of someone who is in pain. The person may simply nod, or may be frustrated that you gave them news when they weren’t in a state to hear it, or may not respond at all. Because very few pieces of news can transcend emotional pain.

And that is the point to keep in mind if you have news to give another person. My happy news does not create happiness in others much in the same way that my sad news does not create sadness in someone else. We seem to understand how it works in one direction–we can see a sad movie, read a sad story, hear sad news and if it is happening to someone else or a character, we can also go back through our day without carrying those sad feelings with us. We understand that the sadness belongs to someone else and we are merely the witnesses unless it affects us directly.

But as humans, we don’t seem to get the opposite idea–that our happiness cannot create happiness in others. We can be happy for another person, but that does not mean that we are happy like the other person. Which is to say that with the exception of a close friend where I know I will be the child’s fictive kin or my own siblings, I am never truly happy like the other person when I hear a pregnancy announcement and it has nothing to do with infertility. I am happy for the person and I can express excitement for them, but they own their happiness and I’m merely a witness to it.

Which is why it’s strange how much excitement we take in giving happy news. I had a friend who didn’t want to tell me about her pregnancy over the phone because she wanted to see my face. And I couldn’t completely understand that mentality, especially when she wouldn’t have said the same thing about imparting devastating news (I didn’t want to tell you that I ran over your dog because I just had to see your face when I told you about it!). The fact is that as humans, we truly believe that while our sadness does not create sadness in others, o
ur happiness can transcend other situations and make other people actually happy once they hear what is happening in our life.

And that just isn’t the case.

As nice as it would be if it were true.

So my advice would be to always return to Jude’s wise words and think not just what you’re doing, but the way that you’re doing it. And to the greater end, why you’re doing it. If you’re telling your friend about your pregnancy because people should be kept abreast on major changes happening in your life (a move, a job shift, a baby, a marriage) and good friends will want to celebrate and support you, then go ahead and speak the words. But if you’re telling people to generate that happy buzz of people excited for you, well, you may want to take a step back and decide who fits that category (a sibling, parent, best friend) and who may not have it in them to give you back what you need.

Which is to say that friends come in different levels and the response we expect from a close friend should be different from the response we expect from a peripheral friend–even one that we see frequently but hold at arm’s length for negative news. My feeling is that if you wouldn’t share your most embarrassing, most humbling news with the person–the kind that needs to be spoken to a best friend over alcohol or ice cream–they’re actually a second-tier friend and one that while much loved may also not be the one you expect too much out of in terms of response. A poor or good response does not a friend make and our reactions are usually more indicative of our personal situation and not a reflection of how we feel about the other person.

I know I’m preaching to the choir, but this post felt like it belonged here too. And I know I’ve said all of this before in one way or another, but I wanted to jump off Amalah’s post and point it out because it was good advice and then got too wordy for…words.

Update:

Serenity makes some great points in her comment below and I just wanted to agree with it. And while this may not come out the right way, I think y’all know I mean by this: being infertile or going through a loss does not mean that you’ve perfected empathy. We are all human and just as we want people to speak to us while taking into account our situation, we also need to extend the same courtesy to everyone else–being infertile doesn’t mean that we naturally tell people about our pregnancies in the best way. We need to do the same amount of work.

Going through infertility or loss doesn’t give you a bye with manners or circumspection. It needs to flow between all people and yes, I think the thoughts above apply across the board. To be mindful about crowing about your new job or all your new purchases to your friend who is out of work or in danger of being downsized. To be mindful about another person’s relationship status as you discuss your own.

That said, feeling something and expressing something are two different things. I don’t think we should ever squelch our feelings or brush them under the rug, pretending they’re not there. But I think for the sake of sensitivity towards others, we need to sometimes squelch what we want to express. Though anyone telling another that they shouldn’t feel what they’re feeling–that’s simply bad advice. We can’t mess with our hardwiring, we can’t talk ourselves out of our feelings. We can only talk ourselves out of our actions stemming from those feelings.

So if you’re hearing an announcement and it’s upsetting you, feel that emotion. Just…er…perhaps don’t express it outwardly towards the person.

Cross-posted, mostly, with BlogHer.

Welcome back to another round of Blogger Bingo. Once again, the prize will be a $20 gift certificate to Barnes and Noble. Please read the directions below in order to understand how the game is played and sign up if you wish to participate. Sign up is now closed. Since sign up is closed, you will need to wait until the next round to sign up to play.

The Point of Blogger Bingo: ideally, this game will spread around blog traffic, hopefully increase commenting, promote understanding between people, build community, and celebrate blogging in general. Even if you don’t win the gift certificate, you will definitely win increased blog traffic (read below to see how this will happen). So…it’s win, win?

These bloggers are currently signed up to participate in this round of Blogger Bingo.

1. Stirrup Queens
2. Once a Mother
3. to conception and beyond
4. I’m a Smart One
5. MeAndBaby’s Blog
6. All Aboard the Pity Boat
7. still life with circles
8. Not a Fertile Myrtle
9. Dragondreamer’s Lair
10. Baby Smiling In Back Seat
11. Life, Family and the Pursuit of Sanity
12. My Pathway to Motherhood
13. Wistfulgirl’s World
14. A New Wheeler
15. Weebles Wobblog
16. Slaying, Blogging, Whatever…
17. In One Ear
18. Heeeeere Storkey, Storkey!
19. In Due Time
20. Where the Green Grass Grows
21. Three is a Magic Number
22. Baby Hungry
23. karlinda
24. Two Is A Family: The Adoption Chronicles
25. Elana’s Musings
26. onewhounderstands
27. Project Kjetil
28. Estes Family of 3
29. Alana-isms
30. Hoping for Another Little One
31. It’s called a varico-what?
32. Maybe Baby?
33. The Journey to 40 and Beyond
34. Semi-fertile
35. Strickly Southern
36. Under Construction: Building our Family
37. The Root of all Evel
38. Adventures in Adoption
39. A Virtual Hobby Store and Coffee Shop
40. Romancing the Stork
41. Tally’s Place
42. Heather Mohr’s Blog
43. Hoping for a baby Smith
44. ReFashioned Threads
45. The Read Thread
46. A Journey Through Motherhood
47. Life with Endometriosis and PCOS
48. IF In Big Sky Country
49. She’s Country
50. Production, Not Reproduction
51. The list is now closed

How to Play (yes, it seems complicated at first, but if you read carefully, you will see how simple it is in practice):

1. Sign up to participate. If you are not on the list, you will not be eligible to win. You will need to provide a blog name, blog url (yes, you need to be a blogger to participate), the number for the card (see below) which you wish to use, and an email to use to contact you if I have questions. The categories on all the cards are the same though the order varies. Unfortunately, like IComLeavWe, you cannot participate if your blog is password protected.
2. Please place this code on your blog and keep it up until the end of the game. It will help connect people to the project and show other bloggers who are participating that you are on the list. You will not be added to the list until the code is in place.
3. The Participant List can be found above these directions.
4. You randomly chose a bingo card colour during sign-up. Scroll down to the bottom of this post and click on your card. Then print out a copy so you can have it at home. Feel free to take notes on it. You cannot switch cards after signing up.
5. Starting October 19th, I will pull one card each day. Each card has one category on it and that category will be listed in the top, permanent post on my blog (the one that contains a link to the current issue of the LFCA). I know, tricky isn’t it? You will need to keep on top of things in order to have the best chance of winning because the card will be erased after 24 hours and a new one pulled. As I said, the card states one of the categories that you see listed on the bingo cards at the bottom of this post. For instance, I may pull a card that states: “find a blog post that made you sad.”
6. In addition to pulling a card, I will also list a date. The post you are looking for comes before, after, or during that date (more below). For example, now the command might state: “find a blog post that made you sad written after April 22, 2008.” The date matters.
7. Read blogs that are contained in the participant list to look for a post that matches the card of the day. For example, if I pull the card that says, “a post that made you sad written after April 22, 2008,” you will look for a post after April 22, 2008 that made you sad on any of the blogs on the participant list. You may not list a post from your own blog; it needs to come from another person.
   an style=”font-weight: bold;”>All posts need to come from someone on the participant list, it cannot come from a blog that is not participating.
8. Leave a comment on that post (even if it is an old post) and then keep track of the url of that post at home (bookmark it somewhere). When you call Bingo, you will need to turn in the posts you used to “mark your space.” Please leave a comment that shows that you read the post. Just writing, “nice post!” does not count as a comment.
9. Once you have found a post on a person’s blog, you cannot use that blog again during this round. In other words, if you use a post from my blog as your “a post that made me sad” you cannot use another post from my blog the next day when a new card is drawn.
10. When you get five in a row, email me with the word “Bingo!” in the subject line. In order to win you will need to provide the five blog posts that fit the cards drawn as well as prove that you left comments on those posts (and have the comments be left on different days–not clumped together timestamp-wise after realizing you have Bingo). The first person who emails me with a winning card is the winner. The winner will be listed at the top of my blog in the space that normally holds the daily category.
11. Free Space. Those who bought themselves a free space by leaving the five comments (this option closed on September 13th) prior to sign-up for this round can use that free space anywhere they wish on the board. They can use it to replace a category whether or not it has been called.
12. Don’t worry if you can’t participate in this round. I will do this game again soon after we have a winner.

You have a lot of questions about Blogger Bingo? They are hopefully answered here. Scroll down to get to the Q and A session. It addresses what to do if you are reading this post after the game has begun, how I’ve deterred cheating from happening, and what to do if you can’t find a post that day.

The Point: this game fulfills four things that I think are fun: using blogs to get people to think and feel, ensuring that people leave comments, promoting understanding between people, and creating community.

The Bingo Cards (click on the card you’re using and print out your own copy for home-use. Ignore the four cards you aren’t using–you can only use one card and it is the one you listed on the sign up form):

My Perfect Moment is captured in this ten second clip:

On Thursday, we decided to go to Chincoteague for the weekend because we hadn’t yet been this summer. I think we love the island so much not just because it is literally the greatest beach for crazy birders and non-nature-loving-but-commercialism-hating people alike, but because it is a location that Josh and I collectively peed on to mark as our own at the beginning of our relationship. We have no prior memories of the place with other people; no vacations with ex’s that get dredged up in our mind when we hit the town. Soon we will mark our ten year anniversary of visiting the island; ten years of sandy asses.

So I told the twins that I had to make a phone call and called up the Refuge Inn, which, if you’re going to Chincoteague is the place to stay. We have given this more thought than is healthy and we’ve stayed in a lot of places. But now we only stay at the Refuge and we can say definitively that it is the best place because (1) it is locally-owned therefore, the money the business makes stays in the community, (2) they remember us year-to-year which may be because we are simply an unforgettable couple or it could be due to the copious amounts of toilet paper I use which leaves an impression, (3) it is perfectly situated so you don’t have to drive your car the entire vacation. You can ride your bike onto the nature reserve and go to the beach or you can ride your bike into town, (4) they serve breakfast and breakfast goes in a predictable pattern: eggs, french toast, waffles, (5) they are so friendly and kind that they even let us return to the hotel and use their pool shower this trip even though we had already checked out, (6) their rooms are fantastic and large, (7) they have their own corral of ponies near the parking lot, and (8) they have a little stopper on the bottom of the door so that crickets can’t get in the room. Do you hear that, other hotels? These people care about my cricket phobia.

So I hung up the phone after securing a room and went back in the kitchen. “Guess who just planned a vacation for us to Chincoteague for this weekend?” I asked smugly.

And without a hint of irony, the ChickieNob looked up from her art project and said, “Aunt Gretel?”

“What? No…you just saw…I told you I was on the phone…I made the reservation.”

“So Aunt Gretel didn’t plan the vacation?” the ChickieNob asked with a hint of fear that my vacation prowess cannot match my sister’s and that I have essentially just booked us for a week-long trip to a Field of Terrors.

My sister is better at planning vacations being that she is more organized and more responsible. But I pulled this trip off and on Friday, had packed all of our bags and had them lined up at the front door so we could get on the road the moment Josh returned home. We set out for Chincoteague with hope in our heart that we’d somehow miraculously make it over the Bay Bridge without traffic which was cruelly dashed by an hour-long wait at the bridge which became increasingly more fun once we taught the Wolvog to sing “Helter Skelter,” video taped him singing it, and emailed it to my brother. All from the front seat of the car due to my Sprint Blackberry Tour. I love that toy so much. Thank you, Sprint, for Dr. Pangloss.

On Saturday, we headed out to the beach,

which we had mostly to ourselves.

With gorgeous blue skies despite earlier warnings of rain,

and mostly happy faces despite the Great Suntan Lotion Tantrum of 2009.

What I love about the beach off-season is not just that we have it all to ourselves, but how small it can make you feel when you don’t have the distraction of other people around:

We spent about six hours collecting sea shells and digging holes and the ChickieNob just stood in the water for three straight hours, beckoning to the waves with one hand, as if she were calling them forth to the beach.

The beach was where we first noted the Domino Coveting Effect (DCE). Two men came down to the beach with their young baby and posed for each other holding their newborn. I could not stop watching. The baby was tiny and perfect and dressed in a small Winnie the Pooh outfit. Finally, the men asked me if I would take their picture together with their daughter and I agreed.

“I was just admiring your daughter,” I called out to them as I set up the shot, which is a more socially acceptable way of saying that I was coveting their child.

“She’s two-months old today!” they crowed. They shared her name and the story of her name and had that giddiness only seen in people who have coupled a distinct lack of sleep with a child who has come after a long wait. They went back to their car and I continued to play a game of catch with the Wolvog which involved me gently tossing him a ball which he allowed to land in the sand and then having him chuck it with surprising speed at my knees, belly, or head.

The couple to our left watched us for a long time and finally said in this wistful voice, “they’re so cute. They’re just so cute.”

Which made me wonder if they were also infertile–if we had just happened upon the perfect storm of situationally- and biologically-infertile people all at the same beach. But it turned out the couple wasn’t yet married. They were maybe in their mid-thirties and the woman had the look of someone who wished she was married and having children. We spent some time talking by the water, and every so often, she would become distracted by the kids again and murmur, “they’re just so cute” in a way that broke my heart.

Josh commented on it over Vietnamese food that night (which, if you do go to Chincoteague, the best place to eat on the island is Saigon Village. The food is always amazing–so good that I had to stop by for veggie rolls to go on our way out of town and say goodbye to the owner until next summer). “You were coveting the men’s baby while the woman next to you was coveting your life. And that couple is probably sitting somewhere tonight and a single person is walking by thinking, ‘at least they’re a couple.’ And a homeless person is seeing the single person and thinking, ‘at least she has a home.”

“It just continues for every single person in the world until we’re all lying prone like dominos–unable to move forward or stand up for the wanting. So what were the men with the baby coveting?” I asked.

“Your government recognized marriage?”

It gave food for thought how much we as a society covet and where that coveting gets us.

At night, we walked around town. Maybe what else I like about Chincoteague is that it’s small-town America. It’s so American that it makes apple pie look French. Many of the beach towns on the eastern shore are geared towards tourists with the thought that summer is their booming time and most towns empty out by the end of August. But Chincoteague is just a regular town which sees more traffic in the summer, but is still a tight-knit community through the winter. You can visit it any time of year and find most of the businesses still open, the library still renting out books.

It’s the sort of town where everyone gathers on the street for a fair, the sixteen-year-olds just as happy to have some place to go as the forty-year-olds with newborns. We ate ice cream at the Creamery (there are two ice cream places in town, and we are firmly a Creamery family. Creamery, Creamery, Creamery all the way, now and forever) and Josh promised the ChickieNob that next summer, they would tackle the Roundup, a grotesque amount of ice cream that needs to be consumed in a single sitting in order to make it onto their wall of fame.

After another morning at the beach, we piled back in the car and headed over the land bridge, sniffling the whole way. It is always hard to leave even though it never changes. We go back year after year, to the same hotel, the same restaurants, the same evenings at the ice cream shop. I love the stability of the vacation.

And I love when we cross the Bay Bridge and we pass St. Peter’s Church in Queenstown, Maryland. It feels like that’s when every vacation begins–when we pass that church. This year, Josh stopped the car so I could get out and photograph the building. The graveyard was screaming with crickets so I only crept so far onto the grass before I turned my flip flops around and ran back to the safety of the pavement. But there was something so silencing, so stilling, about leaving the 65 mph traffic of Route-50, to walk behind this quiet building and mark the end of a vacation.

See what others are saying were the perfect moments they found this week.

Baby Smiling in Back Seat has had two Thoughtful Thursdays recently that asked about baby names. In the first, she asked when people chose baby names and in the second, she asked about people scooping your chosen names.

I was about to answer this in her comment section, but it sort of deserved a larger space to stretch out. The fact is, I started thinking about names back when I was in college. I went to a lecture about naming children given by an Israeli professor and the gist of the lecture was that names originally reflected a person’s culture and language and that we shouldn’t do away with cultural names in order to blend with one another within America. The other idea is that children should only have one name–it can be in many parts (first name, middle name, last name), but a single name to be used in all places.

Which feels like a no-brainer to some, but American Jews are notorious for giving an English name to be used in day-to-day life and a Hebrew name to be used for religious purposes. And listening to that lecture, I decided that when I grew up, I would give my children one name; a Hebrew name that was accessible to non-Hebrew speakers. So they could have sort of the best of all worlds–a name that merged with the surrounding American culture that was a single name known in Israel too. It sort of narrowed down the list for us.

But there were more requirements: We paid close attention to the meaning of the names because I wanted the names to become a phrase when you put their full name together. And I wanted them to bring in elements of different stories connected to the people we wanted to honour. So their names are these complex weaving of stories and nouns and ideas that connect us to people in our family.

I came up with the Wolvog’s name when I was closing a suitcase. We had been trying to conceive, but didn’t know we were infertile. I was zipping up the suitcase at Josh’s aunt’s house and I said his name aloud–the first and middle name–apropos of nothing. Josh sort of shrugged and agreed it was a pretty rockin’ name. The Wolvog also has a second middle name which we didn’t put on the birth certificate. It’s his secret name and it’s his choice whether or not to share it with people. The second middle name has a great story attached to it and we thought it sort of spiced up life to having this secret name, this trapdoor of a name, that only some people will ever know.

The ChickieNob had her first name long before she was conceived. We had a different name chosen for a bit, but it rhymed with the Wolvog’s name and once we found out we were having boy-girl twins and we’d have to use one name or the other, the Wolvog kept his name and we gave the ChickieNob the other contender which meant the same thing. The problem was that we didn’t have a middle name.

We threw out a lot of possibilities, but none of them felt right. So we went one night to a Borders and I told Josh that I was going to stand until we chose a name. I was pretty far along and standing was fairly uncomfortable so we moved quickly through the list, reading aloud every name possibility (we had a letter we wanted to work with) until at one point, I said her middle name and we both looked up at each other and said at the same moment, “that’s it!” and closed the book and sat down to have coffee.

And her middle name works perfectly with her first name to complete a phrase that also speaks to the birth order.

The ChickieNob also has a secret middle name; a second middle name. And she sometimes uses it and sometimes doesn’t and I guess it will always be interesting to me when I see who she has told and who she hasn’t.

All of this work to choose the most perfect names in the world and I never use them. We have gone through a boatload of nicknames–it sometimes changes daily. In fact, just this morning, Josh was called Carmine Fancypants for about ten minutes. I’m not sure why we never use their perfect, wonderful names except to say that nicknames hold an intimacy that given names do not (unless you have a secret trapdoor name like our kids). And the ChickieNob and I share a nickname that we both call each other which I feel marks her as mine and me as hers.

I have two names–my English name, Melissa–is used in most places. By which I mean that I usually go by Mel. But I also have a Hebrew name, though Josh is the only one who uses it anymore. In Hebrew, our letters also serve as numbers. Alef (the first letter) equals one. Bet (the second letter) equals two. This goes up to yood (the tenth letter) which equals ten, and then the numbers after that equal increments of 10 (20, 30, 40, 50…) until it reaches 100 and the last four numbers have a value of 100, 200, 300, and 400 (sofit letters can be used to go up to 900).

The idea of counting the numbers associated with your name is part of gematria. Which I’m not that into EXCEPT that my name literally has the most perfect value in the world. It is so perfect both in how the numbers fall and their total value that I always thought that I must be the most special girl in the world to have a name like that.

I really think my parents did it by accident–simply chose the name because they liked it and it honoured someone they loved–in the same way we chose the twins’ names. But that just makes it more magical–to have this perfect, symmetrical name which is so incredibly fitting because I need everything to be perfectly symmetrical in my life.

I like the name Melissa, and I am fond of how it shortens to Mel. But I absolutely love my Hebrew name and I would make it my only name except that it’s sort of my trapdoor name and I’m glad that it isn’t used by everyone. I sort of wonder if I’d love it as much as I do if I heard it every single day from everyone I encounter–from Josh to the grocery store cashier.

Strangely enough, I have never added up the gematria of the twins’ names. I simply don’t want to know.

How do you feel about your name? Do you love it? Hate it? Wish you could change it but feel too sentimental or worried that it would offend your parents? Have you changed your name? Only used a nickname? And if you chose a new name, how would you pick it?

This is a week that has been in my head for five years. We were told that by age five, the twins’ adjusted age should catch up with their actual age. Within five years, we wouldn’t see a difference between the Wolvog and ChickieNob and their full-term peers. Melissa of now says “bwaaaaah!” to that fact, noting that we still clap when they’re on the charts growth-wise at a doctor’s visit. They are small kids. You can tell they started out small and they’re still small. They are a very young five, developmentally. And that’s fine–I get babyhood that much longer. But the earnest Melissa of five years ago thought the whole world would look different on this date, when the two ages meshed and I thought prematurity would be chucked out the window.

Wasn’t that earnest Melissa so sweet? I just want to pinch her cheeks for a moment.

Of course, you can only have retrospect with time and the fact is that this date was the receptacle of my hope. I placed all my hope in it when footing felt off in the beginning. I knew there was an end in sight and while it may be far off, all would be okay at that point. Life doesn’t truly work like that and I think my head knew that. But like so many other places in my life, my heart has a louder voice. And I’m glad sometimes that it does because I needed to have that hope then, just as I need to just be in the moment now.

Lindsay and my mother came over and we all had milk and cookies to celebrate.

So happy Mesh Date, ChickieNob and Wolvog. May you always grow strong and healthy and may you always be yourselves and happy in your own skin.