A Yellow Jacket

Holidays are tough for me and Mother's Day is coming.  Sometimes I can feel very lonely, whether it is a day spent by myself because my family is far away or if it a day spent in a room full of people--even people I love.  Sometimes holidays can feel like a reminder of what was lost in terms of hopes and dreams--for myself and my parents.  There can be sense of failure.

Last summer before I moved from Pittsburgh, I spent time purging to lighten the load to pack.  Overall, it felt really good and freeing.  There was a bunch of stuff that I gave to my mom to pass along to my goddaughter.  I figured she would appreciate it more than sitting in my closet or on a shelf collecting dust.  It felt good.

Then a few weeks ago my mom forwarded me a picture of O~.  She was wearing my yellow spring jacket that I had as a small child.  My mom explained that when my cousins came for Easter, the girls wanted to go outside, but it had grown chilly and O~ didn't bring a coat.  So, my mom went into the closet and found the jacket and offered it to her to wear.  It fit her well and she wore it home.  In fact, she enjoyed the coat so much, my mom said she could keep wearing it.  The picture my mom sent over the phone was of O~ and LJ going for a walk in the woods in a park near their home.

But somehow this picture did not elicit the same feelings of when I gave O~ the Teacher Barbie and children's books.  My heart was sad, and then I felt guilty.  My mom had always said that she saved some of my old clothes because she thought that when I had children that maybe they could wear some of them.  What was once something I imagined would be for my children, was now being worn by someone else's child.  And I cried.  But, I did not let my mom know.  I didn't have the heart to tell her.  She was so excited and happy to share that O~ loved the coat and was so proud to be wearing it.

I mean, I had given pause in the summer when I gave my mom some of my stuff to give to O~, but that stuff didn't seem to have as much meaning.  The children's books were kind of a helpful reduction in the mass of books I had collected for my classroom library.  In fact, I told my mom to share with my cousins that if there were any books that they didn't really like, to just give them away.  The Teacher Barbie was something A~ gave to me as a Christmas present when we were in undergrad together.  I went back and forth on that one.  It spoke to my roots in teaching, but I kept thinking about him when I saw it.  I figured O~ would have more fun playing with it. 

But, what I had held back was a little pearl necklace.  I don't remember how old I was when they gave it to me, but I do remember feeling like it was one of my first real pieces of jewelry.  It is a kid's version and not real, but it was close enough as a kid.  I went back and forth.  Why should it just sit in a jewelry box when O~ could probably enjoy it?  But the nagging thought was, what if I have a little girl someday and I want to give it to her?  Would I regret giving it to O~?  If I gave it to her, would that be giving up on my dream of being a mother?  Would I be giving something away in haste and later have regret?

Somehow the yellow jacket had more meaning for me, too.  I think it goes back to how items of clothing can carry so much more meaning for some people.  And even though the jacket was mine as a child, was it mine to give away?  This jacket really belongs to my mom and it is really for her to decide in some ways, I think, maybe.  So if that is the case, what does that mean?  Has my mom given up the dream that I will have a child someday?  Has my mom given up the dream that she will have a grandchild?  I thought that coat was special.  Maybe it doesn't carry as much meaning as I thought it did for my mom?  Or maybe her intent is that O~ can borrow it and then return it when she grows out of it?

I don't know.  I just know that I feel terribly upset about it, and I feel incredibly guilty and selfish for feeling sad about it.  My heart hurts in so many different ways.  And in the picture O~ just looks so happy and like she is having fun wearing the jacket.  How can I feel so sad when it makes O~ and my mom so happy?  At least I know that by my cousin taking a picture of O~ wearing the coat and sending it to my mom she knows it is important, has meaning and will take care of it.

Unsuccessfully Resisting the Merk of March

It angers and frustrates me that infertility is a lingering part of me.  I'd like to say it is not.  Any admission that I still think about it from time to time, whether a fleeting passing of grief or a moment that triggers a deeper pain, I just want it behind me.  It does not define who I am, but it has shaped me.  Writing about it is difficult because it is easy to fall into that false belief that I should just be over it--the same kind of thinking that ticks me off from those who do not understand.  It is NIAW, so I will give myself permission to write a few thoughts sans guilt.

Currently, I am personally grappling with the question of finding resolve with infertility and finding resolve with childlessness.  They are not exclusively mutual.  You can have one, the other, both or none.  If I have to be honest with myself, I do not have resolve with the infertility.  I have resolve on shaky ground with a hoped, temporary childlessness.  There is an acceptance that things are on hold and there is still time--to not give up hope--to be okay with not closing that door just yet.  Infertility still hurts me.  Or is it that I still allow it to hurt?  It hurts me less on a daily basis, but getting through March is still really tough.  It is a different animal each year.  I guess I need to truly accept this, to allow room for the emotion, the pain and know it will likely come.

The twins would have been four years old in March of this year.

In a Sleepy Stupor...

I remember noticing T~ coming back to bed.  As I resettled myself and he joined me in bed, the words just rolled out...

I love you.

Still feeling in a fog of being half awake and half asleep, I felt a moment of surprise with the realization of what I had just said.  There was a prolonged pause and he responded with a confused, "Okay?"  My fuzzy brain was not working with my lips and I mumbled something, but do not recall it being anything really understandable.  Was I talking in my sleep again?

No.  I felt it within me.  It just slipped out.  But, it seemed so natural and effortless.  Too tired to put anymore thought into it, I allowed the heaviness of slumber to creep back over me.

The next morning, I heard T~ stirring in his living room.  I tumbled out of bed and joined him by his chair and computer.  Still feeling the need for a morning stretch in the cozy warmth of bed, I returned to the bedroom and flopped into the covers and he followed.  However, he was much more awake than me.

We snuggled up together as I recalled bits of a bizarre dream I had the night before.  Something about wandering around the streets in a city and trying to find my way while following along a lady and a strange animal.  It had the pointed face of a porcupine, but the body of a very skinny, slinky monkey-kind-of-cat creature.  If it was supposed to be a pet or ferel, I am not sure.  It weaved in and out, but at times you could hold its tail like a cane or a leash before it would then try to slip away again.  T~ softly laughed as I wondered aloud if it was a remnant of the Comic Con from last weekend and that his girlfriend must be a little bit of a weirdo.  He said that seemed about right and I would have to be a little weird to be with him.

Then, I waited to see if he would bring it up while still trying to sort out my thoughts.  My heart ached at the possibility that maybe he heard me, but did not feel the same in return.  When he did not mention it, I then lead into something else that seemed a little strange from the previous night.  I asked if he slept alright, and he mentioned having some tossing and turning.  I said that at one point I noticed him coming back to bed and I may have said something. 

T~'s face lit up with a knowing smile.  He said he wondered if he heard me correctly.  He wasn't sure how to acknowledge it, so he asked, "Okay?"  He said I repeated the words, but wondered if I was talking in my sleep or if I really knew what I had said.  T~ stated it was okay that I said it...then with an added pause..if it was true.  His words seemed laced with a vulnerability.

I told him that I have been thinking it for a while, but it just kind of came out last night.  He smiled with his eyes and said that he has been thinking it for a while, as well.  With a shared breath of relief and happiness, we hugged.

Then he looked at me and said in response to what I had said last night...

I love you, too.

Removing Relationship Hurts In Earnest

"The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them." ~ Ernest Hemingway

So, as I am entering the beginning of a new relationship, I have been putting in some effort thinking about how to clear out some of my emotional baggage--the possible roadblocks that could bring challenges into this relationship.  In someways this is unavoidable because your past is part of what makes you who you are in the present.  It has nothing to do with them.  But alas, it is the present partner that is left to deal with the other's past hurts, especially if unresolved.  My hope is that a mature approach will win.

Please know that things are going well and it is still early in my present relationship.  We are in a great place where it still feels new and in that cozy space of looking forward to getting to know each other more.  It is a special time to be romantically giddy, to drink in its innocence and to just be.

However, I was recently reminded of how past hurts can quickly resurface when I had an internal knee jerk reaction to a question from a coworker.  It was a request to help watch her dogs while she went to the beach for part of the weekend.  It really was kind of her to think of me since she thought my guy was out of town for the weekend.  But, she had mixed up the weekends and it was last weekend that he was away.  So, the plans my guy and I had were still in tact. 

My momentary panic was because in my two significant relationships, both men had, in different ways, made plans without me and I felt really hurt.  Not cool to apply for a job two hours away and not tell me, and not cool to plan a vacation for yourself and tell me a few days before leaving for it.  In hindsight, they were both running.

But, I have to give myself some credit for not getting ahead of myself, nor misdirecting these feelings of rejection.  I told myself, "Stop.  This is not (fill in name of previous arse)."  Remaining composed and not jumping to conclusions, the misunderstanding quickly resolved itself.  Whew!

What was left was my lurking concern of past hurts that may be trouble ahead for me.  Trust is clearly an issue.  I know this.  It is not the first time I have wondered if I will be able to find resolve in my issues of trusting a man.  Not being sure where to go with rebuilding that trust, I have just sat on the thought.

Then, I came across a dating article online with quotes of wisdom for meaningful love.  I clicked on the link feeling slightly pessimistic that the quotes would be predictable fru fru stuff.  However, Ernest Hemingway's words stayed with me.  It seems to go along a similar pathway with that of forgiveness.  First you have to want it in your heart, then over time it will happen.  It is about taking that risk again.  Trust, much like love, is an action and it is something you choose to do everyday, every moment.

So, it seems the simplest answer to my question of trust is to just to do it.

Tiny Invitation

Today I had dinner at my cousins' house.  S~ and S~ have a nine-month-old daughter who is as cute as a button.  However, H~ takes a lot of time to warm up to people, so I have not had the opportunity to hold her.  Poor kid has had to deal with reflux, milk allergies and colic.  Not an easy start to life.  But, she is doing much better. 

To my pleasant surprise, H~ smiled at me when I first came into the living room.  She is at the creeping stage and was holding onto my cousin's hands and walking round the house.  S~ said H~ is constantly moving and much happier when she can move freely out and about. 

After dinner, we went outside to the front yard and mingled with the neighbors, which seemed like a fairly common routine.  People gathered, set up chairs and chatted as several kids weaved in and out of the driveways on their bikes.  H~ was alternating between a push toy and walking around with S~ and S~.

As I was sitting on the ground in the driveway, H~ came walking over to me holding S~'s hand.  Then, she reached out her tiny hand to me and I took it.  Standing up, I joined S~ as H~ lead us around the driveway in wobbly zigzags.  After a few passes around the driveway circling the group sitting in chairs, she meandered to the push toy again with her mom.  I rejoined the group of adults and listened to the conversation.

After a short time, H~ returned to where I was sitting.  This time she held both hands out to me with a smile as she caught her breath in the breeze.  I picked her up and lifted her up a few times.  It was the first time I really got to hold her.  She seemed ready to go, so I took both of her hands to go for another walk.  She was picking up the pace and then held on with just one hand.  It was a mix of the warm sun, just before dipping down for a more pronounced sunset, and cool, gusty air.  As we paced the walk, my curls bounced in the breeze and H~'s wisps floated under the weight of her clip.  Faster and faster she went as she transitioned back to one hand on the push toy and the other in my hand, especially on the incline down the drive.  Little by little she wanted to do more on her own and I could sense her increasing bravery.  She then held the handle with two hands, and I quickly followed behind her keeping my hands hovering near her waist.  Smiles and giggles as she cruised to her mom.

It was a sweet moment and a welcomed gift.  It was brief, but felt like it was filling an infinite space within that moment.  Reminding me of kite flying with Little Bear in her grandmother's garden, I became aware of being present and taking in the joy.

How I have often wondered what it would be like or if I would have the opportunity to hold a tiny, trusting hand of one who is exploring her developing mobile freedoms and expanding the parameters of the world around her.  When I dreamed of motherhood, that was the kind of thing I imagined.

I Heart Nerds

I have a tendency to date nerds.  I find myself attracted to men with nerd qualities or guys with a little bit of nerd folded somewhere in there.  I can't help it.  Of course, there is quite the variety of nerd out there, so it really isn't all that difficult to stumble into one.

When I moved to Orlando, I originally wrote this guy off for several reasons.  One, he shares a name with a previous man in my past.  Two, I work with him at the hospital, but not very directly.  And three, he is a Detroit Red Wings fan.

That being said, my guard was down.  As we got to talking here and there, I started to notice we had some shared interests.  He is funny, kind and passionate about his work.  He is the kind of person who goes the extra mile to help others and is a peacemaker type.  He carries with him a certain confidence in his work and grounding in himself.

As we saw each other at some social gatherings for work, conversation was just flowing and natural.  I often find myself smiling when I am with him or as I walk away.  A couple of months ago he asked me out on a date.  We have been taking it slowly and keeping it professional at work.  I think we have found a good balance to allow for a certain amount of privacy to allow things to develop and see where they may go.

He is a self-proclaimed king of the nerds.  He is a veracious reader, has done some theater, bakes, plays video games, hikes, does a little writing and plays board games.  Can't wait to check out the Harry Potter stuff at Universal with him!  He was a manager of a comic book store for about five or six years after being a chemist for a couple of years.  In his words, he wanted more than a job.  He loved his job at the comic book store, and said it was a lot of fun.  But, he wanted a career and after some self-reflection, decided to go to nursing school.  He says it was the best thing for him, and he is very satisfied in his work as a nurse.  He is great at what he does.  He is an interesting combination of nerd, and certainly fulfills my preference for a little something quirky while being smart, funny and emotionally in tune with himself and others. 

The Sting of Longing

The other day, another one of my coworkers asked me if I had any children.

Then later, as I was carrying a baby doll with a medical play preparation kit down the hall, someone remarked how natural I looked carrying the baby.

My heart broke a little bit...

with a combination of old, dull hurts and a seemingly semi-silly longing.

And I wonder if I am getting better at hiding it.

It has been suggested that I take it as a compliment and that people only mean well.  But it still doesn't take away the initial sting.  It takes a conscious effort to pause, breathe and mentally let it pass as it is replaced by a drifting, distant sadness where I try to feign normalcy.