(No Longer New) Midlife Mommy:

Our embryo transfer is supposed to happen tomorrow. Sometime. We have no idea when. With all the other transfers that we've done, we received a call on Sunday telling us what time we needed to report. And the time of reporting has always been 12:00; transfer has occurred around 12:30.

Today? No call. Not at DH's office, not at my office, not at home, not on my cell. Nothing.

I have no idea what this means. There were three straws of seven frozen embryos left. We asked that they be thawed in the following order: Two PNs (pronuclei, frozen before the first cell division), and if none survive, then go on to the straw of two (frozen at varying levels of development, beyond the PN stage). If none survive, then go on to the last straw, which has three embryos (frozen at varying levels of development, beyond the PN stage). If, at any point, one or two survive, they are supposed to stop. Obviously, we would transfer three if all survived from the last straw.

I have no idea what the "no call" means, but of course my fear is that none of the embryos survived. This is a prospect that I am just not prepared for.

I suppose that it's possible that they are working with the two PNs to see if they start dividing. If they don't, then I think they might thaw the others on the day of transfer. But I could be wrong about that. That's the problem -- since we're not sure what the embryologists do, or when they do it, we don't know what to think. And, we can't call them after 11:00 a.m. on a Sunday, because they turn their damned phones off. No messages allowed. Our previous calls have always come after 11:00, so we didn't think that we needed to call them about this.

Now, we're not sure what we are supposed to do. Can DH go in to work in the morning as he's always done? Should we take DD in to school? Should I just go in to work? I hate this!

And, yet another glitch. We weren't given the opportunity to decline assisted hatching (usually used with older eggs). It was a mistake. J just forgot to give either of us that form (and DH made a special trip into the office just to sign the forms). We have never, ever used assisted hatching. But, we are supposed to come in to the clinic 15 minutes early (15 minutes early from what time -- ha! we don't know) to sign the forms. And I'm not allowed to take my Valium pill (which is supposed to be taken one hour before transfer) until after I sign these forms (because I can't have a mind altering drug in my system). So, does this mean that we will be waiting around for the balance of the hour? Or, will they just go ahead and start the transfer without waiting? And if they do that, then why am I taking this Valium again?

They should have f*cking called.

When we were packing to go on our vacation, DH assumed the responsibility to bring the "adult" CDs. You know, the ones that have nice, normal music on them. Not kiddie music. We were kind of hopeful that we might have the opportunity to listen to a few as DD napped during the long drive to our vacation spot.

While sifting through the myriad of possibilities, DH came across some CDs for DD that we had never even opened. They were all Signing Time CDs and contained all the music from the associated DVDs. Two of them were from volumes 1-3, and 4-6, and the other two contained the music from volumes 1 and 2 from the Baby Signing Time DVDs.

We listened to Baby Signing Time over and over and over and over, beginning when DD was about 15 months old. I wanted her to learn sign language, because I thought it would help her communicate with us and avoid at least some tantrums. It did work. DD loved the DVDs, and she learned to sign. It made life so much easier. She also loved the songs. We knew them all. We sang them all. She would do her own version of the "Diaper Dance" while getting ready for bath; I provided the words, and she never failed to entertain.

DH and I kind of argued over who would take all of these CDs. You see, we have our limits. We only want those CDs in our car that we have the capability of listening to over and over and over and over without stabbing ourselves in the eye with the leftover spork that has slid under the front car seat. I won, or lost as it were; I agreed to take all four CDs and add them to my repertoire. (I'm kidding. I actually like the songs on these CDs.)

So, we started with the Baby Signing Time CDs at DD's request. We listened to one yesterday, and one today. I sang enthusiastically and did all the signs (well, as much as I could while driving). DD just sat and listened. No signing. No singing. No flash of any recognition.

Today, I asked her why she wasn't singing along, and she didn't answer. I let it go. When I couldn't remember the sign for "dog," I asked her for help. She said she couldn't remember either. Then the "Diaper Dance" came on. I started bouncing around excitedly in my seat, and I urged DD to sing along with me. She didn't. I asked what was wrong, didn't she remember? Um no. No, she didn't. Seriously? You don't remember dancing in the bathroom? You don't remember mommy singing and signing? You really don't remember? Nope. You don't remember the "Time to Eat" song that mommy and daddy used to sing to you in the kitchen while you ate lunch? Nope, nope, not at all. And please stop asking me the same question over and over mommy.

And then it hit me. The childhood amnesia. It's come. You know, the reason that you can't remember much before you were four? Yes, that. I remember learning about it in college, and as I recall, one of the theories is that as we develop our language skills, our brain begins to store information in a different way and in different places, making our memories from our prelanguage and beginning language years inaccessible after a time.

I know that's how it is with me. In my earliest memory, I am driving in the car with my parents. I think we were going to church. They were arguing. My mother was mad, really, really mad at my father. She made him stop the car. She got out. And she walked home. It scared me. My mom had never done anything like that before. I don't remember exactly what my father did, I don't know what they were saying, I don't remember going home, but I do remember that moment, frozen forever in timein that green station wagon. While I don't recall my mother ever telling me what the fight was about, I do remember that she said that she wanted to leave my father that day. But she couldn't. Because she thought she was pregnant, and it just wasn't done in those days. And, in fact, she was pregnant. So, that would put me at just over four years old. And I don't remember anything before that moment. Kind of sad, I think. I don't remember any of my "only child" years. I'm sure they were good. I'm sure that I was treated as well as any princess. But I digress.

I have always had a fear in the back of my mind that perhaps something would happen to me while DD was very young, and she would be left with no memories of me. Just two dimensional pictures, pasted in some scrapbook. Or maybe not. DH isn't really the scrap booking type. Whatever nice memory preservation there will be in our house will be from my efforts. DH is more of a put-the-photos-in-a-big-box-and-guess-what-they-are-about-later kind of guy.

And so, after quizzing DD for awhile about her memories of the music, and her seeming sincerity about having none, I came to believe her. Things from just a year or so ago were lost to her. Not to DH or I, but to her. I guess that's what they mean when they say that when you lose your parents, you lose your past. (And when you lose your children, you lose your future.)

As many of you may know, I'm nearing a very sad occasion. In a couple of weeks, it will be the first anniversary of my mother's death. It hasn't been easy. It hasn't gotten better. I miss my mom every damned day. Every one.

I was her first born. I was her only daughter. I drew close to her after my marriage. My brother pulled away after his, which occurred many years before I took the plunge. Well, to be honest, he was not ever very close to her, and often not very kind to her (to be fair, I was guilty of that too, but not in our later years).

My mom dreamed of the day that I would have children. She comforted me as I wept following my miscarriages, and she listened when I railed against God for having done nothing to save my babies, nothing to help me to have my "own" child, with my "own" eggs. She was a delight during my pregnancy with DD, and she beat us to the hospital on the day she was born -- quite an accomplishment for her, since she seemed to be physically incapable of being on time for anything (seriously, she was late for her own wedding). She held DD, loved DD, and spent time with her whenever she could. During my six month maternity leave, I came to visit several times a week. She would hold DD as I left to go exercise. When I returned an hour or so later, she was still holding her. Sometimes, we would just call and talk with her on the speaker phone during bath time. We had fun. As I am going through her things now, I see how much DD was on her mind -- there were so many little things that she'd set aside for DD that she misplaced before giving them to her, things that only her youngest granddaughter would need or want.

And then, I had an awful thought. Was the amnesia complete? Surely, DD would remember someone so special, wouldn't she? For some reason, I just had to know. And so, I asked the question and heard the answer that my heart wasn't ready to hear --

No mommy, I don't remember her. I don't remember grandma.

I had a hard time accepting that. So, I started quizzing her. Don't you remember . . . ? And . . . ? And what about . . . ? Nothing. I just succeeded in annoying DD with all my questions.

And so, as I approach the first anniversary of my mother's death, I am feeling another loss. While I can close my eyes and see, feel, hear, and almost touch my mom, DD will only know her second hand. My mom will be only a series of stories to my daughter. Or just two dimensional pictures, pasted in some scrapbook.

How very, very sad.