My Dearest Roo and Boo,
First of all, Happy Mother’s Day to both of you, and thanks be to G-d for gracing the both of you with the most rewarding title in the world. It’s as if life actually begins the day one becomes a mom, as though every other accomplishment just immediately pales. For me, I finally felt worthy, validated, vindicated, and so very hopeful.
Before I really begin telling you both about how much and why I prayed for both of you to be physically able to conceive your babies, I need to tell you that I have never even seen a picture of either of your daughters. I don’t know their birthdays, I don’t know what or whom they look like, and, Rebecca, I don’t even know your daughter’s middle name. I honestly only know her first name and that Stephanie is your “Boo” because I saw it in Grandma’s obituary. Marissa, I only know that Emma is your “Roo” because a former friend was voyeuristic and independently chose to snoop around.
As you probably know, I have no social media, as the pain would be too paralyzing. I am told that your Facebook page is open, Marissa, as people have asked if I wanted to see pictures of Emma. I told them that I just couldn’t, but that I would bet the farm that she was gorgeous. My G-d, if she’s even an eighth of the beauty that you were when you entered this world, I’m sure Louis is already figuring out his “keep the boys away” approach.
Roo, it’s no secret to you that, with all of your surgeries, I was afraid that conceiving a child would be difficult for you. Even when you were a teenager, before you were so sick with your Ulcerative Colitis, we went to Dr. DeGraaff for your presumed polycystic ovaries. I remember asking her if you would have trouble conceiving, and she said that we wouldn’t take any chances. She told us that she would start you on Clomid the second you were ready to start a family. Little did we know then that Ulcerative Colitis and all of the surgeries would be further barricading roadblocks to the destination you desired most – motherhood.
I’m sure you remember when Dr. Kornbluth, of whom I know you are not enamored, introduced us to Michele in his office. Michele, too, lost her colon to UC, but she was able to get pregnant and bring her baby into the world. Gosh, were we hopeful. And, when we were at Mount Sinai after one of your blockage surgeries, we found the doctor who specialized in helping women without colons conceive. I nearly became his stalker, taking note of his name and already so grateful for his existence.
When my former friend told me about Emma, she told me that Louis had posted in-vitro needles in the shape of a heart to announce your pregnancy. Though I wasn’t surprised to learn that you needed some extra support in conceiving, I was so relieved that you were successful in your journey. You had shown Herculean strength throughout all you endured, and nobody deserved her olive wreath more than you.
Boo, do you remember when you were about 16 and you went with Erica and Josh Gendel to the doctor? You were all so gracious in helping the Gendels out with Josh and his tragic myriad of special needs, but on this particular day, Erica took you to the doctor with them without even telling me. I was concerned when I didn’t hear from you, panicked actually, and it turned out that she had taken you with them to Josh’s doctor in Bergen County. Josh needed to have an x-ray, as he so often did, and Erica didn’t want to go in with him, on the odd chance that she was pregnant. Instead, she sent you in with him. She sent a 16-year-old young lady in with him, to hold him while he was x-rayed, without my or your dad’s knowledge. Clearly, she was not worried about your reproduction, only hers, and I was enraged. It was selfish, unmindful, and thoughtless of her, and from that day forward, I prayed constantly for G-d to allow you to conceive your own child when you were ready.
G-d has answered my prayers for both of you.
I love you,
Mommy
