Sometimes miracles do happen

When working towards a goal for many years, and it is still not reached, it's not uncommon to lose faith. And at one point you stop talking about it with friends and family, because it is just not that interesting to talk about, to mention yet another failure. That job that you thought was going to happen, that achievement, that one and only person you wanted to meet, fall in love with, it just doesn't materialize. At first the friends and family are encouraging, telling you it will happen. Things will happen and you will reach your goal. Because you deserve it, or because you are worth it. But then their voices vane and you are left with the persistence in your head and nothing else. And it is all up to you to continue the fight. But the thing is, I did. I persisted month after month, method after method. And after almost four years of continuous fertility treatment I finally got pregnant. In fact I'm already 25 weeks tomorrow and have a kicking baby-boy inside my belly, growing and waiting patiently to come out and see his big sister and his mom by the beginning of the summer.

It was an emotional roller-coaster from the day I realized my period was not coming and that I should probably skip the beer I had just been offered. I was in chock for a week, before I took the test, watching the two lines appear and then another week later told my mom and Zoe, watching their tears of joy. I was hesitant to tell anybody else and I was hesitant to feel secure in my pregnancy. I prayed to god every evening that he would protect me and the little growing miracle inside of me. If something takes so long, it can't be real, can it? It was not until week 14 where I started thinking it is very likely that there will come a baby out of this in the end. I might actually have a second child. Zoe will finally have a little sibling. Meanwhile she takes it with the ease of a 6 year old, randomly holding my belly, putting her ear to it and getting kicked in her hand. "It's a foot, I can feel a foot!" she says excitedly and starts talking to him. "I'm your big sister and I can't wait until you come out and we can play." I'm hoping that she understands how boring babies are initially and how much time her mom needs to spend with the baby at first. But I did, those many years ago when I got a little brother, so I'm sure Zoe will be just fine. I'm cautiously optimistic.

With my growing belly comes a lot of new issues into play that I've spent the better part of my days and nights pondering. I'll share some of them here as time moves on, but right now I realized that I cannot continue chronicling Flybaby without sharing the most important news in our lives, that there will soon be a Flybaby II.

Midsummer tears

Today it is midsummer, one of the most celebrated days in Sweden. The general gist is that people go with their family to the countryside, eat and drink all day and dance around a May pole. Apart from the drinking (or maybe in spite of) it is a very kids-friendly holiday. I got to think of Thanksgiving, an equally family oriented holiday in the US where families also gather (in the home) and eat and drink all day. Most of my American friends claim this to be their favorite holiday because it is family oriented and non-religious. It is just about being together. Just like Midsummer in Sweden.

I have spent 10+ thanksgivings in the US and because I have been in Sweden numerous times during the summer (while living in the US), I have also been here during midsummer 4 or 5 times. But it wasn't until today that one contrast struck me: of all the Thanksgivings I spent in the US without my family, I was always invited to join friends or acquaintances in their celebration. Sometimes I went, sometimes I declined (like the time my personal trainer in California invited me over to a pot-luck friends' thanksgiving), but I was never alone or if I was, it was a choice of my own. I went to a friends' sisters' thanksgiving celebration 45 minutes drive away and I went to a Thanksgiving in New York where the only American was the newborn baby (we laughed a lot about that). And I was always welcomed as the most natural 'addition' to the family. Families in  Sweden are not like that. Here, family is much closer knit and not something to bring strangers into. I have in fact never been invited to a midsummers celebration in Sweden. Not that I haven't had nice midsummer experiences like the time Zoe's dad and I, with a tiny newborn Zoe went to the local park for a picnic or the time my brother and I went drinking in Gamla Stan.

It is of course particularly painful for me this year because I don't have my own family to spend it with. For practical reasons Zoe ended up with her daddy this weekend (I'm leaving for Italy early tomorrow morning) and we (read: he) have yet to find a decent way of being together the three of us. I really hope that one day we can do things together all three, if not as a family, then at least as Zoe's mom, Zoe's dad and Zoe.

Luckily for me I have a lot of work to do and the sun is shining on my balcony. I laugh at the drunk youngsters across my street on the opposite balcony and enjoy reminiscing of my own youth where it would have been me drinking, celebrating and having fun. But I'm not the one with a hangover tomorrow.

Happy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving has never been my holiday but with an American daughter I am starting to think that perhaps I will try to celebrate it in the future. I have been living in the US for many thanksgivings, more than I can count on two hands but each one of them have been remarkably different, ranging from a day off by myself (when I was a grad student in Irvine) to traditional celebration with really good friends in New York. Last year Mark and I simply made a nice meal for ourselves and enjoyed a day off. I have only been with American families a couple of times but each time has been a treat, although the family wasn't mine; because thanksgiving is not my holiday I only missed my own family slightly (now christmas, that is a whole other thing...). I was with my family one particular thanksgiving: the year my mother decided that our American au pair Andrea should not be without one. She cooked a turkey and made cranberry sauce, something that has now crept into our christmas dinner every year and Andrea made the pumpkin pie herself. It was a wonderful afternoon, or should I say evening, because we had to do it late since it was a normal school day in Denmark. Andrea taught me the skill of saying thanks and be thankful and I really think that was an important lesson. These days, even though I can't celebrate thanksgiving with turkey and pumpkin, I still make sure to phrase my thankfulness, even if that means telling it to Zoe as we walked home from daycare. When it all comes down to it, Zoe is the person I am most thankful for of all things in the whole world.