It's funny how life's challenges don't really change.
Back in the trenches trying to conceive, I often wished for a crystal ball. Sure, the temperature taking and OPKs and mucus checking and drugs and shots and hot flashes and swollen overies and blank HPTs and periods and dildo-cams and raging hormones sucked, but if only I could look into my crystal ball and see a baby in my future, it is all worth it.
Of course, there never was a crystal ball. Even when I did get pregnant, I learned too quickly that pregnancy doesn't equal a baby.
I saw a psychic when I was pregnant the first time. She told me she saw three pregnancies and me holding a baby. Turns out she was right, but of course, I couldn't count on that. I had my "crystal ball" but I still didn't believe it.
Now I have Robbie. And man, was he worth it! But you know, he comes with complications. I once again find myself wishing for a crystal ball. I love him so much and just want the best things for him.
The not-meeting-milestones is frustrating and sometimes disappointing when I'm constantly asked if he's crawling or walking or talking or waving or clapping. People mean no harm, of course. And they're usually full of praise about how bright and happy he is, and of course, he's cute as a button. He wins people over immediately. But having to constantly say no and constantly explain his rough beginnings sometimes wears on me.
Watching him in therapy multiple times per week, having to "torture" him with stretches and exercises and practice eating every day is hard. No one wants to see their child unhappy. I obviously know it's good for him and it has to be done, but it's not pleasurable to hear him grunt and groan or whine and cry because he wants to know why we're doing this God awful thing to him again.
If only I had my crystal ball, to be able to look into it and see him running and jumping and laughing and playing. To see him talking and singing and driving me crazy with incessant questions. To know I'm torturing him for good reasons.
Instead, we just plug along and hope for the best. I don't know Robbie's future. I'm sure someday he'll do all of the above, but no one knows when. And of course, it doesn't really matter. I'll adore him no matter what.
But man, I sure find myself wishing for that crystal ball occasionally. Too bad my psychic passed away.