For about five years - maybe longer, because it sure seems like longer -
my wife and I have been trying to make babies.
For at least five years, we've had the names Liam and Morgan picked out for a boy and a girl. Because I work in an industry that notoriously doesn't pay well, and which turfs talented (and some untalented) employees on an all-too-regular basis, we had decided that, even though we both came from two-children families - both of us with an older sister, actually - we would opt for just one child simply for the economics of it all.
...but something wasn't working.
We are both pretty healthy people, and I'd even consider myself a bit of a jock (or at least I was until I became a Dad), but there was something wrong. That something turned out to be a startlingly common affliction for women called polycystic ovarian syndrome. (We'll go with PCOS, because apparently everything has to be reduced to an acronym to keep people's attention. Brangelina and TomKat said so.)
My wife apparently has a mild version of PCOS, and it was keeping my 'swimmers' from getting where they needed to go due to a chemical imbalance, so we had to - to put it roughly - find another way in.
Over five years later, after many thousands of dollars in prescriptions, a lot of heartache and disappointment, and - for my wife - bouts of feeling less than a whole woman - and let's not forget the in vitro process - we now have these marvelously perfect little gifts that take up almost every one of our waking moments. We can't imagine life without them, and certainly couldn't imagine having just one of them. They're a perfect pair, and although not even six months old, it seemed as if they were putting on a show for us in these pictures.
I will provide more history later about the journey, especially the harrowing moments as we approached their coming into the world, but for now I thought you might just enjoy these latest pictures from their time on the big comfy couch Saturday morning.
Insofar as 'The Tinks' reference in the title - It comes from a stage in the process where the little pre-embryos were transferred back to their Mother, and a process that I was able to watch, about which my wife is still a little jealous.
(She couldn't see the monitor from where she was contorted - um - sitting.)
As the little things traveled up the straw through which they're inserted, they glowed like little white lights, and my first thought was - Tinkerbell - that fascinating creature, (which up close looks like Julia Roberts in some instances, all depending on which version of the story you're watching) almost invisible to the human eye, which flits about as a speck of white light.
After telling this to my wife on the drive home from the clinic, all the while both of us wondering about them being 'in there', and full of excitement and trepidation, she pointed out in question,
"What if he's a boy?"
...Well, Tinkerbell would hardly be appropriate then, would it?
- and at that moment, rather than dispense with the whole concept, the name became shortened to its current form in the title. If 'Tink' implies tiny, then it's more than accurate enough, considering their size when they were born. I'll have some of those pictures for you in the not-too-distant future.
I FORGOT TO GIVE PHOTO CREDIT TO MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE, JANNE. ...bit of an inside joke there. ;-)
By the way - If you're a member of The Commonwealth, I hope you're enjoying the long Victoria Day Weekend. Thanks for stopping by.
