My heart has two homes: one in my adopted city where I now live with all the urban amenities I have come to appreciate, and another in the small New England town where I grew up- 3,000 miles away.
Through our infertility struggles, I was glad to have the distance. I didn’t want my family to have too close a view into the sad events that unfolded. They knew we were going through IVF and that “things were not going well,” but we stopped giving updates after Round 1 ended in miscarriage #1. It was easier for me, not having to carry my own sadness as well as the their sadness for us.
But now that we’ve announced the happy news, having sent Father’s Day cards with ultrasound pictures and little notes to our fathers last month, the distance feels too far to adequately share all the joy we are welcoming into our lives.
Mr. T’s mom, an overly doing mother of an only child, has informed us of her plans to buy a second home near us. (My mother-in-law is a topic for another time, but to summarize- she’s a very nice lady but she still seems to feel there’s a competition between us for Mr. T’s affections.) So needless to say, her plan to move near us causes me some anxiety. Just being around her causes anxiety and stress- that’s just the way she is.
Very different from my mellow, low key family. Mr. T and I just got back from a relaxing vacation with them, a beautiful week at the cabin on the lake where my father grew up, and where my family has spent many happy summers over the years. My brother and sister and their spouses and dogs all met us there too, and my parents reveled in the rare moment that they get to have us all together. We swam, boated, watched the amusing antics of the cat and dogs, played games, were treated to my mother’s wonderful cooking followed by
campfires and s’mores.
One day, we drove an hour back to the house where we grew up, the beautiful 200 year old home with so many memories, and where my siblings and I all had our weddings. My parents have the the family homestead on the market now, and it breaks my heart though I understand they can’t afford to keep it, and that Mr. T and I, even if we move back to New England, wouldn’t move back to this tiny town of 700 people.
I went to my old room, still untouched from the day I left for college 15 years ago, and looked out at the view of the mountains, the woods where I built tree-houses and spent hours reading, the field below where I married my husband. I had wanted my children to experience this place, to know it and love it too, but that will never be.
Where will home be for this baby? Mr. T has always said we can move back anytime I want, but I know the life we have in our current home is a good one. It’s hard to imagine leaving it. It’s also hard to imagine this baby growing up so far from grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and even my siblings’ funny dogs.
For now, home for this baby is in my belly, and I hope it will be so until December. We have our big anatomy scan on Thursday. If all goes well, I think this will be the point where I may finally exhale. I’ll let you know how it goes.