A Tale of Two Babies

I had intended on blogging the story of T and O's birthday soon after their arrival. Life happened. TWINS happened and I decided I would wait until their 1st Birthday to publish the blog. I am really glad I waited as it has provided me an opportunity to reflect on their Birth Day, the past year, and being the transition into the role of "Mother of Twin Toddlers." It has been sweet to remember. It has been meaningful to acknowledge where I still have grieving to do. It has been a relief to let go.

August 2013 IVF Transfer

So...That's T and O's first picture. Not many parents get to say that their first glimpse of their children were at the blastocyst phase. I look at this photo and remember when the nurse handed us the photograph at Dr. Thompson's office. I remember scrutinizing the photo for any visible signs of genetic defects. As if I would be able to find some indication in this photo that would allow me the possibility to predict if one or both would fail. But they didn't. The cells divided, the blastocysts grew into embryos which in turn grew into fetuses, and finally into babies.

Our babies!

Top photo: O (Baby A)
Bottom photo: T (Baby B)

Oh how I love the 3D images of the babies. It was one of those moments of magic in the pregnancy. We felt like we were getting a preview of the little spirits we were going to meet in a matter of weeks. O held on to the position of Baby A throughout the entire pregnancy, sometimes by only a foot.

We went for our final ultrasound two weeks before the babies were born. We discovered that the babies had flipped and shuffled themselves into a position that perplexed the technician.  At Week 36 they had gone from both being head down, ready to rock an exit through the birth canal, to a transverse position with both of their heads on my right side. Their orientation was so different from previous weeks, and so intertwined, that the technician spent several moments following spines, legs and feet, and heart beats to solve the mystery. 

Following the Week 36 appointment that I started to let go of our birth plan for a natural, vaginal birth. A vaginal delivery was one of our ideals, we knew it was a remote possibility but a possibility nonetheless, so it was integrated into our dreams around bringing our twins babies into the world. The orientation of the twins was an automatic trigger for c-section. Beyond that, my belly and uterus had grown so large that my OB was concerned my contractions would not have the strength required for vaginal delivery. The confirmation of c-section brought a complex wave of emotions to the table. There was a part of me that felt relief that I had a solid date to look forward to; no more guessing, waiting, and wondering. I knew that on April 21st I would be meeting my babies.  I also felt immense sadness that I was not going to deliver the babies naturally.  I was afraid of the surgery and recovery. I was happy I could spend the next two weeks preparing for the surgery. I dove into working with my OB on a birth plan for our c-section that would preserve as much of our original plan as possible (e.g., immediate skin-to-skin, lowered curtain).

The day before the babies were born was Easter Sunday, one of my favorite days of the year. The weather was gorgeous, we enjoyed brunch with my parents, and planted a bush in the backyard to mark the day. I was nervous and excited with anticipation. Beth came to the house and gave me a pedicure while talking to me about the surgery, the arrival of my littles, and delivered incredible care in both friendship and homeopathics. By the time Beth left, I felt strong and capable and ready for what awaited me. 

I kind of wish I could remember how I slept that last night before the babies were born.  If feels like a detail I should remember. I do remember the morning of preparing to get to the hospital. We both took showers, realizing that was probably the last uninterrupted shower for a long while. We joked about when I could have my first cup of coffee after a 2 year hiatus.  I daydreamed about food I could eat after the babies were born and heartburn was a thing of the past. 

I was ready too early, feeling anxious about getting to the hospital on time and being READY.  We drove to the hospital, ended up having to park in one of the overflow lots, and I waddled my happy self to the OB triage for check-in. It was a flurry of activity as the nurses took my vital signs. Peter was steady by my side. I could tell he was nervous and excited and also doing an amazing job of keeping me distracted. Sarah and my mom were there as well, supporting me through conversation and laughter. We met the anesthesiologist and went over our birth plan. He had a very calming presence, was supportive of our birth plan, and was happy to go over everything in detail.  He said he would help to remind the surgical team about our desire to have skin-to-skin right away and said he'd ensure the curtain was low enough for us to see the babies being pulled out. 

My OB came into the room to say hello and check-in and instantly tilted her head to the left and said "You're belly is listing to the left!" She did one last ultrasound just to out of curiosity to see what orientation the babies were in.  And that was it. I said my goodbyes to mom and Sarah and we started to prepare to leave the room for me to head back into surgery. 

Behold the mighty belly, carrier of two full sized babies.

The protocol for c-section is that the momma has to go into the operating room on her own while they administer the epidural. This was the part I was really scared of. I was scared to leave Pete. I was scared to have a needle poked into my spine. I was scared to lose sensation in half of my body. As I sat on the operating table, with the flurry of doctors buzzing around me I focused on one of the last things Sarah told me: to let the fear wash over me and let it go.  I focused on my breath, listened to the gentle words of the anesthesiologist, and let the fear flow through and out. I still have body memory of the pain of the needle with the numbing medication. I still have whole body memory of the fear of "what if the medication doesn't work and they cut my belly." I also have memory of how much of a lifeline the words of Sarah and the anesthesiologist were for me.

After I was on the table and they had me positioned, Pete was allowed to come into the room. He took his seat on a stool near my head and we began talking and joking. The anesthesiologist that he met in the hallway was a father of twins and he gave words of encouragement.  It seems like a matter of seconds before they were busily cutting my belly to bring my babies in the world. It is a very, very strange sensation to have a c-section. It literally felt like my OB was wrestling with my belly. I was aware of my body being moved and shifted and pulled. The anesthesiologist was talking gently into my ear, guiding me through the process. 

That moment when my OB was holding O above the curtain so that I could see her was amazing. Breath left my body. She was beautiful perfection. I was flooded with emotion and was barely able to say her name. And then, within a minute, T was up and just as beautiful and wonderful. There is no way to describe the intense love that I instantly felt for these two tiny humans. They were pulled to the side for the nurses to quickly evaluate. Peter stood by them during that entire time, telling me about them and describing them to me. Soon they were both on my chest, our family together for the first time. 

O 6 lbs 6.8 oz and 20.5 inches long
T 7 lbs 2.7 oz and 20.75 inches long

I am grateful for my OB and the doctors that were on our team throughout the pregnancy. I am grateful for every single prayer, kind word, whoosh of support that has been sent our way from the beginning of our journey. Being a twin momma has really brought home the saying of "it takes a village" as I am certain there is no way to raise twins without support from friends, family, and even strangers. 

More than anything though, I am grateful to be momma to these two beautiful souls. Our family feels whole now, our hearts bursting with love and gratitude. We are blessed with giggle, cuddle sessions in our bed in the morning, shrieks of laughter, snuggles, and sloppy kisses. We are discovering each day that it is possible to love more and more deeply than we thought was possible the day before. If all this is in just the first year, it is easy to become excited thinking about the future.

Agnew family fun time at the zoo!
(O is sporting her sun face and T is giving us his cutest smile)

Holy cuteness!

Nostalgic gratitude

I had envisioned keeping this blog going on a regular basis, transitioning from expecting mother to mother of twins. Technically, regular can have a broad definition. This entry plus my post on breastfeeding, can define regular and regular is therefore once every 11 months. So with that, I am right on schedule.

We're t-minus 15 days to having twin 1 year olds and I am feeling hugely emotional about it. Parenthood, for me, is this odd paradox of being the fastest slowest time ever and I am not quite sure I am prepared to be saying goodbye to babyhood so quickly. On the other hand, I am excited to see these tiny to-be-toddlers developing in front of me. I am in awe of how much can happen in a day/week/month. In one moment, I am eager for T and O to begin running around the house. And in the next moment, I am lamenting the loss of the days when they would just lay on my chest and cuddle for hours.

I have been reflecting on our journey. My heart swells whenever I think about all of the people who stepped up and in for us throughout IVF, pregnancy, and this first year with the twinkies. I love looking at the messages, photos, and whooshes of support throughout all 38 weeks of pregnancy, carrying us to a remarkable 38 weeks of gestation before bringing T and O into the world. I fondly remember Beth coming to do my toes the night before Birth Day, helping me to relax and supporting me with conservation, homeopathics, and her friendship. I was able to talk through my anxieties and start the transition to going into the hospital and I felt so much more calm after her visist. I remember our first 24-hours home together as a family and how that was strengthened with the presence, love, and compassion of our friend Sarah. There were the wonderful souls who came over to help me with the babies those first several weeks after Pete returned to work. They have no idea how much I needed them during those days and I am so grateful for the moments spent with them. There were the meals from fellow twin mommas, connecting me to my Big Sister Jenn who continues to be a lifeline and I adore having her as a friend. Rachel was reliably there for us, helping me to feel connected and helping to keep our dogs happy and healthy which felt utterly impossible those first months of parenthood. Jason helped me transition back to work and has had my back whenever I need that reassurance in finding balance between work and motherhood. There are so, so many more moments and people and things that I am grateful for.

My gratitude for everyone who has helped us, prayed for us, cheered for us, and pulsed us love is so deep that I am overcome by emotion just thinking about it. Thank you for being there, supporting us. Thank you for sharing some great moments and memories with us.

Thank you for loving my babies.

The making of Boob Food

Breastfeeding is no fucking joke. It is by far the most painful, frustrating, difficult thing that I have ever had to do. Every single woman who has ever breastfed, whether it be for a day, a week, or for years I high five you. I cheer you. While realizing that a high five and cheer comes nowhere close to being what you deserve.

There is no shortage of information for new mothers on the benefits of breastfeeding. Do I want my children to have robust immune systems? Yes! Complete nutrition? Of course! How about lowered risk of heart disease? Definitely! Close bond with me? Absolutely! All of these things are possible for me and my babies. All I need to do is breastfeed, the most natural way of providing nutrition to my children. Women have been breastfeeding for as long as humans have existed. It is natural. Natural means it will happen if I just try right?

None of the information I read prepared me for the reality of nursing, let alone nursing twins. Nothing prepared me for the incredibly intense and overwhelming experience of laying in the hospital bed, hours after delivering the twins, attempting to breastfeed my new son. The clucking of the nurses, the two to three sets of hands around me and the baby.  The tisking with the realization that my nipples are inverted (who knew there was even such as a thing as inverted nipples? WTF?) and the explanation that I will need to use shields and pumping to convert my nipples. More hands. Pulling. Twisting (yes, twisting). More advice. And pain. Lots of pain.

We used all of the resources available during my stay in the hospital. Lots of advice. Lots of guidance. Explanation of what a good latch is vs. a bad latch. Pumping. Advice on how to increase milk supply. The introduction of hand expression (think milking a cow udder). Around all of this is this energy of - you need to nurse. You need to get your supply up. Here are things that you SHOULD eat. Here is a list of things to avoid. The word SHOULD echos throughout.

After we were discharged home the breastfeeding attempts continued. By this point I was having to supplement with formula because of their percent weight loss. Feeding times involved feeding at the breast, followed by syringe feeding of formula, followed by pumping, followed by syringe feeding of the pumped milk. All of that would take two to two and a half hrs. The the babies and I would sleep for three hours. Exhaustion. Stress and exhaustion limit milk supply.

Meeting with the lactation specialists involves more information. Me laying in a chair with a hungry baby laying at my nipple. Another set of hands, pushing, squeezing, showing how it should be done. More discussion of what should be done to help with latching. And supply. And more pain. Me pushing through the pain and exhaustion because I want to breastfeed. I want to give my babies the best possible everything, which means their momma's milk. So I keep pushing. I diligently follow the list of things I should do. And not do. I feed. I pump. I teach. I become afraid of the pain of latching. And then...I crash.

That is when I decide to allow myself to bring something different to my relationship with feeding my babies. I shifted the energy of feeding time. I worked with the lactation consultant to reduce the duration from two and a half hours to one hour. I discover that ease for me means ease for the babies. I can feel my body healing. The ease we have discovered brings rest and rest brings energy that can be devoted to my physical recovery which in the end means better milk supply and benefit for my babies.

My shift does not mean that I do not love my babies any less. It does not mean that I desire anything less than the best for them. In fact it takes quite a bit of love and devotion to these littles to make the choice to shift so that they are getting what they need for nourishment. We are snuggling more and pain is out of the picture. Fear is still lingering around but I keep reminding myself that I get to keep choosing and shifting. What is true today will not necessarily be the truth tomorrow.  This is the right choice for me and my babies for this moment, so I am going to breath in the sweet smells of baby skin. Gaze into their eyes and smile. And tell them how much their momma loves them.

Story telling

After years of trying to conceive and multiple miscarriages I developed a story that my body cannot support a full-term pregnancy. There has always been a tiny voice that would softly whisper that this story was not true and I focused quite a bit of healing work trusting that voice. I slowly soothed my sadness. I worked on healing my physical self, the entire time working from the assumption that the tiny whisper was my truth and opting to ignore the story being shouted at me. The words "I cannot be pregnant" would resonate louder with each pregnancy loss but I clasped on to the whisper of "yes, I can" like a life line.

The story of not being able to carry a full-term pregnancy ran as deep in my body as my desire to be a mom.  It was not until the beginning of last week that I was able to exhale and release the story. Yes. It took 36 weeks of carrying twins before I was able to release and let go. Up until last week I had been holding my breath, wondering when the loss would occur. I hyper-analyzed every movement from the babies, every change in symptom in a fear-driven desire to prevent impending catastrophe. The story of "the body that cannot" was kept smoldering with various complications like the hemorrhage early in the pregnancy and the bleeding/pre-term labor at week 32.

I remember being in the hospital at week 32, bleeding and overcome by fear. I remember thinking this was going to be the moment of my body letting me down, delivering my babies too early, and that we would be facing incredible loss and sadness. I also remember Pete standing next to me, holding my hand and stroking my hair, telling me that I was okay. That the babies were okay. We set goals together and as we hit each of them, he kept the focus on how my body was doing exactly what we needed it to do for the babies to stay in for a while longer.  With his help I was able to start confronting the conflict between the story and my truth. The babies were thriving. I did not deliver them early. I was released from the hospital despite the initial prognosis of emergency c-section and then possibly staying there for weeks.  I did it.

In the USA, over half of twin pregnancies are delivered before week 36 and weigh around 5 pounds on average. I am sitting here at 37 weeks, with my laptop balanced on my 47+ cm belly, typing this blog. When the babies were measured for growth 5 weeks ago they were 5 lbs and today we find out how big they are (we're betting 6 to 6.5 lbs). Last week my cervix was still high, closed, and without pressure behind it. And two weeks ago, when they were evaluating the health of the babies with ultrasound, each baby had more fluid than what they usually see for a singleton at the same gestational age. All of this information is what it took to finally let go of the story of impending pregnancy loss. Not only have I carried my twins to full-term, but they have thrived in my womb. I have listened to my body and the advice of my care providers and here I am, days away from meeting my babies.

I sit here, newly released from the burden of that story, facing the next phase of motherhood. The babies will be here before I can comprehend. With these two littles I will be working through the story that I am not good enough to be the mom that I desire to be. I will be breaking family cycles and discovering how to be best version of myself as wife and mother. While I am at times terrified that I will not be successful, I keep coming to the knowledge that I am able to change and let go of stories that are not working for me. I have the resources to educate and take care of myself. I have an amazing husband that will be here with me. I have an amazing circle of friends, family, and community to support me. I am not alone.

This is my body

I remember when I first became aware of my body vs. what outside expectations were for my body. I was in Mid School, shopping with my mom, my aunt, and my cousin. I thought that my cousin was gorgeous and we were shopping for a fancy dress for her to wear. She came out in a stunning gown and I remember commenting to my mom that the dress was beautiful. And the reply? "The dress is beautiful and looks great on your cousin, but it'd never work on you. You're not thin enough." That was all it took to shift my awareness from having fun and playing to judging my body against what was projected as beautiful. It was the start of body shaming, worrying about how I might be beautiful. This became so deeply embedded in me that eventually I no longer had awareness of the critical voice. It was as normal to me as breathing. Ever present, happening without thought, impacting my choices.

It was years (over a decade) before I really got a handle on my weight. I discovered step aerobics thanks to a grad school office mate who talked me into coming to class with her. I remember total apprehension but also a desire for my office mate, who I deeply respected, to see me take steps to being a healthier weight. So I went. And I had fun, and soon I noticed I was shedding pounds. So I went more often. I shifted my diet. I felt I had unlocked the key that put me in control of my body. This was also timed with the planning of my wedding, a time when I was desperate to be thin enough to fit into the beautiful gowns I was pining after. I wanted to be told I was beautiful and avoid hearing "You're not thin enough" when I found the gown of my dreams.

I eventually lost 40 pounds. Looking back at the photos I am amazed at how much weight loss and toning I achieved in less than a year. I looked freaking fantastic. I also remember not feeling like I had hit the mark. I remember on my honeymoon feeling ashamed to be wearing a bikini on front my husband who was utterly flabbergasted that his wife was still ashamed to show off her body. A body that I should have been damn proud of. But whenever I looked into the mirror I could still see areas that needed more "work." No matter how many times Pete called me his "hottie wife" or would say "You are so beautiful. Do you know that?"I would shrug him off and tell him he was only saying those things because he was biased. He had to say those things because we were married.

A year later I discovered Nia. I totally stumbled into Nia, showing up for a step aerobics class only to find out it had been cancelled and replaced with Nia. Since I had carpooled to the gym and I hated the weight room, I stayed. I stayed, I participated, and I loved it. I discovered a way to get sweaty, have fun, and feel great physically. Much like step aerobics, I dove head first into Nia. I was driven to soak up as much of the goodness I was feeling as possible. And in the tumbling desire to go deeper into Nia, to tap deeper into this practice that was shifting me in unknown ways, I took the White Belt Intensive. I had powerful moments of discovery during that training that changed my life and my relationship with my body. I came out of that training seeing me. Seeing a capable body and seeing the beauty in my body. After that training, instead of shrugging off my husband's compliments, I could hear them and say "thank you." And even on those days when I was not able to see what he was seeing, I was reminded by his words that my body is beautiful and I trusted.

Through Nia I found empowerment. I found a way to be healthy. I discovered how to love my body, in all of its iterations and forms. When I gained ten pounds with each failed pregnancy I knew that I had tools to get back to my target. I knew that I could move through the emotions of what we were going through and be okay. I bought fitness clothing that was daring and fun. I enjoyed dressing up in beautiful dresses. I embraced my body, my sexuality, and played.

Pregnancy is a whole different ball game. I find myself really leaning into the tools I collected over the years. Every day my brain has to reconcile what it sees in the mirror with what I believe to be true and stand that up against the noise of weight gain and fitness during pregnancy. There is a lot of noise about weight gain during pregnancy. There are books, websites, and doctor's pamphlets on how much weight to be gained. It is always done in a tone that implies that going over the mark means you should be ashamed. There is the OB nurse who measures my weight and then makes a face when saying "another four pounds!" There is just the psychology of 200 pounds. That was the weight I never wanted to go over in my non-pregnant life. So each time I get weighed and I am four pounds closer to 200 pounds I instantly feel worried that I am "gaining too much" and there is also a voice in my head that freaks out about whether or not I will lose all of this weight.

I need to remind myself daily, usually multiple times a day, that I am healthy. I am eating healthy, I am feeding and growing two babies, and my body is a new beautiful. I also have to remind myself that part of the weight are two very healthy babies that are in my belly. I remind myself that I am following the guidance of my doctors and literature for twin pregnancies. Any time I hear the voice of shame creep back in, I refocus myself on the goal  - to grow two healthy weight, full-term babies. Sometimes I have to do that every hour. I have to refocus after hearing a comments like "you're so huge!" or seeing myself in the mirror and noting the changes in my body.

As I have been reflecting on the changes in my body I discovered that part of my road to a happy baby belly is more than just growing my babies. It is also finding ways to get past the noise and love myself in this new form. It is finding pride in my body's ability to sustain TWO human babies. The reality is, what I am doing is really pretty magical and the fact that I am 20 weeks pregnant with twins is worthy of some body love and awe.

Milestones

Over the past three months I have really come to appreciate the word "milestone." I can feel both the distance and weight of that word. The wait between the transfer of our blastocysts to the first pregnancy test felt like it went on forever, but in reality was a short one week weight. The news of that milestone, a positive pregnancy result, felt major. It felt as if we had made our way up and over the first boulder, taking the first step towards our next milestone.

Since all of our previous pregnancies ended between 6 and 7 weeks, we would frequently talk about how great it would be to make it to 8 weeks. We even talked about how great we would feel to just clear that 8 week milestone. And we did. Our little twins were thriving at the 8 week appointment. We cleared another milestone. However, I was not overcome by relief. Instead, I found a whole new milestone to worry about (the end of the first trimester) and so the weight of the 8 week check became the anxiety of wanting to make it to 13 weeks. It was also the moment of realizing that there will always be something to worry about when it comes to the health, well being, and happiness of the twins. So I have a choice. I can given into the worry and spend my energy in the low dream of all of the terrible potential outcomes. Or I can hear the worry, acknowledge it, and shift it.

It is immensely helpful to have a partner like Pete. His faith in these babies and this pregnancy is so strong and that gives me something to lean into when I a feeling doubtful. He brings clarity to those days and moments when I am feeling uncertain and scared. I remember one day I was worried about a particular sensation I was experiencing and was worried if it was a "sign." Pete reminded me that we are officially in uncharted territory for us, so we do now know what is normal and so we are in a mode of discovery.  Pete has jumped two feet into the river and is out there, holding my hand as I very slowly and cautiously make my way in. I know that he is there, solid and ready.

The scariest milestone so far has been graduating from the fertility clinic. Our doctor and the team at the clinic have been amazing. They are the most empathetic and compassionate people we have met in the medical profession.  Throughout the worries and questions they have been there for us. I feel protected and taken care of and it is slightly terrifying to leave the comfort of their care. The fertility clinic feels womb-like to me and it feels safe. They helped to nurture and grow and make this pregnancy a reality. I know that it is time. I know that we have gone beyond their knowledge and expertise. I also know that this is really good news. We are pregnant, with twins, and we need to get the care of OB/GYN and perinatal docs so that the babies continue to thrive. As I sit here looking into the next phase of doctor care, I am scared.

Today I am just two weeks away from clearing the next pregnancy milestone of starting my second trimester.  It feels at once forever away and just around the corner.  I have some bleeding/spotting that feels like a challenge from the Universe to see how well I can listen, choose, and trust.  It requires balancing the knowledge that bleeding and spotting is normal, that other women have experienced it throughout their pregnancies, with the fact that it does not feel normal to me. I have to shift my stories around what it means. Rewrite the stories from previous pregnancies and remind myself I am in uncharted waters.

I feel like I am doing pretty good with the worry choices. I also realize that I am also deep in the river of pregnancy hormones, which shifts both when and what I worry about and how well I am able to choose how to react to that worry.  I will continue to take it one day at a time. I will keep doing my best.

Triggered

Shortly after my last pregnancy lost I found a blog specifically for couples healing from multiple pregnancy losses. One of the topics I appreciated was an entry on recognizing that the impact of a pregnancy loss is more than just a moment. That there can be any number of triggers to remind the mother and father of the trauma of the loss, specifically seasonal triggers, so grief and fear can appear from seemingly nowhere. For myself, the majority of my losses have come in the July and August months. For the two losses that required surgery, those happened in August and September. I definitely recognize that I enter this time of year with quite a bit of charge. I am aware of a sense of holding on and in.

More than the seasonal triggers, I am aware of all of the physical triggers I have been experiencing the past week after receiving the news of a positive pregnancy test. I distinctly remember one day last year when I suddenly felt emptied. Like my whole body had been vacated. A few days later is when we found out that we had lost the baby and I was headed to surgery. The other pregnancies also had moments of a shift in sensation that registered in my system as warning signs. As a result, it is very easy for me to slip into a dialogue of "Are my breasts tender enough?" "I am tired, but am I pregnant tired?" "I do not feel like vomiting in the morning, this is probably not a good sign." I compare sensations this time to previous pregnancies, analyzing to determine if I feel more pregnant this time.

On Thursday, I was at a peak of anxiety. I was desperate to KNOW. That was also the day that I had the realization of several important facts: my increased sense of worry that day was not indicative of catastrophe but rather a perfectly normal thing for a (expecting) mother; there is absolutely nothing that I can do to change the outcome - even if I could sense the start of the loss of the pregnancy; and, I can choose to live in fear or I can choose to let myself be excited. We are pregnant. Right now. It does not matter how many were lost before, there is as much potential for a full, happy pregnancy as there is for the alternative. So which one do I want to choose?

Pete and I have been easing into this, much like someone would ease into murky waters. We step carefully, check-in frequently, and actively choose what to do. We are both ready to fall in love with our baby(s) and are both careful. To cope, we keep ourselves focused on the small milestones like the first and second blood tests. We keep ourselves distracted and we keep our focus on the high dream. The next milestone is the scariest so far - we go in for the 6w scan tomorrow morning. All of our previous pregnancies have stopped in Week 6...there is no way to describe how it feels to be facing tomorrow.

I sense that each week, each moment of parenthood involves worry and wonder, starting with conception and continuing on forever. I can see why. From where I sit today, there is no love greater than that of a parent - the child is an offspring of a mother's heart, her spirit, and dreams.  I am so ready to know this kind of love.