The good news: Our lovely friends tried for ages and ages and ages before having their now-two-year-old daughter. And they've been trying just as hard for a second child. Their last two embryos were implanted last week, so we've all been waiting around with crossed fingers hoping for a good result. And so far so good. Her levels weren't looking great over the weekend but as of Monday they had quadrupled. Two sets of identical twins perhaps?
The bad news: We have some other dear friends who had a baby boy in early May. They found out about halfway through the pregnancy he had a serious heart defect that would require surgery immediately after his birth. They were finally able to bring him home from the hospital mid-June. Then this weekend we learned the devastating news that he didn't make it.
Colin was their second child and I've found myself thinking a lot about the loss of a first child compared to a later one. The death of any baby is so tragic and heart-wrenching, but as I look at Kiddle now I realize how much easier it would be to imagine the growth and potential of a second child, rather than being overwhelmed by the raw in-the-moment newness of your first child. Does that make their loss even harder to bear? Or maybe their daughter is such a vibrant, visceral reminder of happiness that she'll help them get through these sad times. I would imagine it's a little of both, plus a whole lot of other emotions that I hope we never have to experience. My heart just aches for them.
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