It's full. The notebook is full. And I am sad.
Way back when, I received a gift from a friend and fellow infertile nestie, Stephanie. It was a notebook that she had taken the time to personalize and send to me with a thoughtful card. As I admired it, I wondered what I'd used it for and decided it would have to be for something special. I set it aside and waited for that special time to declare itself.
Finally, after a long summer of being stuck in the same cycle with doctor appointment after doctor appointment trying to kick my body into gear, I finally got the go ahead to start injectables. I decided the notebook would be the perfect place to keep track of my injections, the bloodwork and ultrasounds and anything else that seemed important.
Finally, after that cycle proved quite successful and I had carried my little one for forty weeks and one day, I used that notebook to record the times for my contractions before deciding to head off to the hospital. I even recorded the mundane details of those unforgettable hours like the fact that I insisted on unloading the dishwasher between contractions in an effort to keep my mind off the blinding pain that was wracking my body every three to four minutes. The notebook was tucked into my dufflebag for safekeeping. Later, as I focused on the challenges of labor and delivery, my husband and brother were given the task of recording the stats in the notebook.
The notebook really got going on Ben's very first day at home. It was initially intended to track his neverending breastfeedings and dirty diapers but it quickly grew into so much more. It became the place where I recorded all of his firsts; his first smile, his first laugh, his first coos. It became home to the copious notes of his milestones. It became my treasure chest of little thoughts for my Benja-Bean, telling him how grateful I am to have him in my life, the endless ways he amazes me and how he is the greatest gift I have ever received. The notebook became sacred.
And then I started realizing that it was running low on paper. I actually felt really anxious every time I noticed the dwindling supply.
Until, last month, when it was full. With a heavy heart, I closed it up, carefully tucked it away and walked downstairs to make this distressing announcement to my husband. Then, I went out to the store and bought a new notebook.