on the massage table

On Sunday morning I went for a massage, my first since M's birth.  It was much needed as my upper back is often sore at night from carrying her around. 

But once I got on the table I realized that I needed it for more than my back.

You see, I started to get massages and acupuncture weekly for a while in the summer of 2009 as a way to try and heal from the depression that kicked in after the miscarriage.  I remember vividly focusing on how good the massage felt and trying to send those good vibes to my eggs as a way to entice them to mature, fertilize and grow.  Trying to mentally visualize my body as a happy feel-good place for a baby to grow.  I wanted that baby so bad that I'd often have tears dripping from my eyes during the massage, but I don't think the masseuse ever noticed (my mascara smears even under the best of circumstances during a massage).

Obviously the massages and acupuncture didn't quite do the trick for me and I turned to the heavy medical guns (IVF).  With all the focus on needles and drugs it'd been a long time since I remembered having those thoughts as I laid on the massage table.

And then on Sunday morning I thought about the two prenatal massages I had during my third trimester.  M seemed to love them too as her movements would become very fluid and smooth, unlike her usual jerks.  I think my happy hormones seeped into her blood stream, just like I had envisioned all that time ago before she was conceived.

I wish that I could go back and whisper into the ear of that sad woman I was in 2009.  I wish I could tell her that it would all work out.  I wish that we all could know the ending to our stories ahead of time.  It is so hard to read/live through such an anxious book and not be able to flip to the last page to get a sense of how it works out, or even to know how many pages we have left to read. As I have said before, I spent so many hours on the internet hoping that I'd find a website that would tell me whether or not this would work out.  But I never found it. 

And I still have some feelings of doubt.

Every day I still feel like someone will come and take M away from me, tell me it was all a big mistake.  It is hard to believe she is real and mine to love and nurture.  I cherish every moment, every late night nursing session, every dirty diaper, every time I heft her car seat to and fro.  I don't think it is possible to be more grateful than I am.  I wonder how long this will last.  Hopefully forever.