Bump Envy

It's Thanksgiving this week, my favorite holiday of the year.  For me it is good food and spending time with family.  It is a time to be reflective and acknowledge blessings.  The focus for me is on the positive without all of the fuss of presents and gifts that come with other holidays.  It is about being present with those that you love.

Thanksgiving time tends to raise my spirits, warm my soul and feel lighter, almost carefree but with a mindfulness of the good in my life.

Strangely and recently, a slew of ladies at work have shared that they are expecting a child.  There are baby bumps everywhere.  I don't think I have seen this many all at once since first dealing with infertility.  However, this time it is different.  It doesn't sting or hurt like it did.  Maybe it is because I'm getting married soon and I've got wedding on my brain.  Maybe it is because this is the closest I've been in a long time to be somewhat near a place in my life that I may entertain the idea of having a child.  Maybe it is because there is some sliver of hope that I may one day be a mom.

It has been a very long time since I have felt happy in a daydream of maybe one day being pregnant or having a child.  It has been about ten years since the last time I first seriously started thinking about building a family.  It has been a really long time.

I'm choosing to dance in the dream of motherhood, even if just for a spell.  Because isn't it wonderful to catch yourself in a dream once in awhile?  No strings attached or what if's.  Reason has no place.  It's just a dream and a song in your heart...to be free to feel...if just for that moment.

A Passing Thought

While chatting with someone recently, I asked about their pregnancy and if they knew if they were going to have a boy or a girl or if they were going to wait to find out.  They said they did not know, but we're planning to find out.  She said she was really excited to have a gender reveal party.  Happy for her, really.

Then I thought about how if I were to have a child, I had always wanted it to be a surprise.  I don't know if I will be able to have a baby of my own.  If I can't, I will feel sad not being able to have that choice and experience.  I wonder, if you adopt do you have to find out the baby's gender ahead of time?

Microblog Mondays

So Many Variables

For much of January, I have been thinking and wondering and worrying...  Am I too old to have a baby of my own?  Are my eggs still good?  Is it selfish of me to want to have a biological child with T~?

And really what each of these questions should add is some form of "a healthy baby."  I am scared because the longer I wait, there is an increased chance there could be complications.  Usually, I am good about regular exercise and healthy eating.  However, my bigger concern is for the potential child.  I am nervous about possible health or developmental issues.  Sure lots of people have had healthy babies later in life.  Will that be me?  I would hope so.

But having been a teacher and now working in the medical field, I have seen more than my share of children with complicated medical or developmental needs.  It takes a lot of work.  And truth be told, I have had multiple parents who have expressed their guilt and confessed to me that they wondered if they had been selfish in having a child later in life.  They have wondered aloud if they brought on these troubles to their child...and stopping short of saying that maybe they should not have tried in the first place.  These are good people and I realize they are sharing these thoughts while under great distress.

Nevertheless, it gives me pause.  At what cost do you try?  Is the risk worth the benefit?  Who is the priority?  It is not all about you.  It is also about that future person you may bring into this world.  At what cost is it to them?  What are you maybe asking them to sacrifice?  Is it fair?

I know in some ways I am getting ahead of myself as T~ and I are still planning our wedding.  But, I can't help it.  I am feeling the pressure of time.  I want to make a responsible choice.  My thoughts waiver.  Should we try for a baby of our own?  Should we adopt?  Can I be happy without children and instead dedicate myself to my career by helping others?  Or should I focus my energies on the people in my extended family and friends?  Lots of questions and lots to think about.

When I start to feel overwhelmed by it, I focus on wedding planning and my life with T~.  It is much more fun.  :)

Twin Quiz

I confess, I am a junky when it comes to taking the personality quizzes you find on facebook.  I rarely post my results, but I love taking them!  Yes, I want to know what kind of house I should live in or which Disney princess I would be or which two words describe me.  And just when I think, I am done with this silly, mindless time suck, there appears the next quiz to fill the hole of gaining more personal insights.  Haha!  I am such a sucker.  :)

But, there was a quiz that gave me pause.  At first, I was just going to pass on it.  But, then I saw a guy friend post his results and thought what the heck?  The quiz was called, "How Many Kids Are You Going to Have?"

I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer because I was a little afraid it would say "zero."  Then, I went back to my friend's results and his comment.  He is single and got "one" and made a hopeful remark that sounds about right and that he hopes to meet a good woman someday.  It struck me as simple, honest and sweet.  So, I took the quiz.

My result was "twins."  The blurb said something about two for the price of one--in maybe wanting one pregnancy, but being blessed with two.  It made me smile.

As I am getting older, I find that I am changing my thoughts on family building.  When I was younger and in my twenties, I daydreamed of having four to six kids.  Over time, that number is decreasing.  It is in part because of practical reasons, time and managing expectations.  But, it is also in part with wanting less, to simplify things in life--like having a smaller home, less things.  My mind has been shifting towards thinking that maybe one child is all that I would want--to be able to devote more attention, time and resources towards them.  But, getting the result of twins makes me happy because maybe deep down I still do want more than one child.  There is also something very special about twins.  It speaks to me somehow.

The quiz gives me hope.  It is not too late.  It is validating in that it is okay to still playfully dream of a child.  That I am still deserving to be a mother, maybe someday.

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.

Some Books Are Better on the Shelf

So, my sister sent me this link to Darwin Deez's Bad Day a bit ago when I was in the throws in feeling angry about my most recent relationship ending.  While I am sometimes uncomfortable with being angry with a person who has left me in a relationship, it still surprises me how much others can feel angry for me.  It kind of comes as a relief in being angry myself.  It's normal.  It's okay.

So the song starts with, "I hope that the last page of your 800-page novel is missing."

No, sometimes actually finishing a book can be downright disappointing, too.

The book that had been on my shelf for several years that I bought as a vacation beach read is called Holy Cow by Sarah Macdonald.  It is an autobiography of sorts where a woman in her thirties from Australia revisits India for a gamble on love and takes a spiritual journey.  This helps her to make sense of the world, to figure out what is truly important and to learn more about herself.

It caught my eye while walking around the book store.  Funny thing is that I started reading it on a beach vacation the summer before A~ and I were just starting to try to conceive a baby.  The first chapter or so was good, but I was distracted with wanting to read Harry Potter, too.  Harry Potter won.

The vacation ended and the book returned to my shelf.  There it sat, replaced with reading material about infertility, mending relationships and soon grad school required reading.  I wanted to read it.  But after the fallout of my divorce, I hesitated because it reminded me of the last happy vacation I had with him.

Next I began my relationship with RJ, and I didn't feel like tainting my happy thoughts with sad thoughts of reminders of my past relationship.  I was trying to move forward.  Plus, I was still busy with grad school readings.

Then when RJ ended the relationship and grad school was done, I felt that I had no more excuses.  I wanted to read the book to be done with it.  Maybe it would surprise me or maybe I could justify getting rid of it because giving away a book I purchased and hadn't read seemed like such a waste.  It became my book to read on the bus going to and from my summer internship job.  Perfect!

As I read the book, it was interesting to read how the main character had to learn how to let go of so much.  She faced herself and her broken preconceived notions about life.  She embraced life as it was and found the good in people.  She changed her perception.  The people and places had not changed, but she changed the lens that she viewed them.  She found a certain peace, acceptance and happiness.  It also touched on the importance of balance in a relationship and not to lose oneself--having personal grounding and independence while flexibly creating a life together with someone else.

Sounds good right?

(Spoiler Alert)

As I was reading the second to the last paragraph of the book, the author tidies up by writing about what she has learned from each religious group she meaningfully encountered in India.  She reflects on what she learned before returning home.  Good, strong woman stuff.

Then, the very last paragraph washes it all away.

Basically, the author goes onto say that all of that stuff really doesn't matter because she is with child that she and her husband conceived before leaving India (mean while most of the story is spent with the couple spending nearly all of their time apart because of his job assignment).  The baby is special because it will remind her of the sacrifices and growth during her two years of life in India, but that having a baby is where the real meaning in life can be found. 

So, diluted enlightenment and I'm better than you because I can get knocked up by my husband.

I closed the book with disappointment.  Really?  The last paragraph did not seem relevant to the story.  They were never trying to have a kid.  What happened to the personal grounding and finding happiness and contentment within yourself?  What happened to realizing that a relationship is fragile and when one person's career dominates the relationship, it can hurt it when it is at the expense of that relationship?  What happened to two people who realize that their life together is more important than if they have career success without that special person to share it?  Fine that the baby will remind you of your time in India and that the conception was special.  But, to imply that the spiritual journey didn't really matter because being a mother supersedes it?  Really?

Then, I think back to all of the times that I started reading the book or picked it up and thought about reading it.  It would have been far worse timing.  It may have been chucked into the ocean.

This is not helping me to be okay with being in the temporary* space of not having a baby at the moment.

(*Working on being happy and while being open to find a man first, while holding onto hope for possibility.)

Feel free to make book recommendations.  I could use them.  I live by a pool.

The Space Between 35 and 42

Lately...I've been thinking about what it means to be turning 35 and searching for some kind of grounding in where I am in life, or rather trying to make a space to be comfortable in accepting and celebrating this new chapter in my life. 

I find it difficult to find the balance of being happy with being a single, childless woman with a challenging, fulfilling career path and not becoming consumed with wanting to be a mother that I lose sight of the wonderful I have in my life in the present.  I do not want to have those thoughts of hoped motherhood looming in my mind that I miss out on capturing and living in the moment now.

To lay this out now--I want to be in a committed, loving relationship, which I see as being married, to a man whom I want to spend the rest of my life.  And a child is a blessing and an experience that I want and hope to share with someone together.  A baby is not a requirement for happiness or satisfaction in that hoped life.  I am looking for someone who is open to the possibility and desire to have children.  I feel confident that I will find that man--someday sooner rather than later, I hope.  Part of my fear is that I will not find him before the window closes...before my physical body says no more, even if my heart still says yes.

What's with 42?  Well, that seems to be the number that keeps popping up in my mind of when I think the window may close for me.  It used to be 38, but I've expanded it.  It could be longer and could change, I don't know.  I would hope that my kid would graduate high school before I reached retirement age.  That could push it to 46.  But, 46 seems so old to be pregnant for the first time.  Forty-two seems to hedge on the possibility that there could still be some good eggs in there and that I could physically handle it, maybe.  Forty-two seems more friendly to defy the odds in some weird way.  I don't know.  Totally know it is not a rational thought process, but there it is--the current barometer on my inner timeline.

And please do not throw out the instant band-aid, "You can always adopt!"  I started down that road once before and I know it is not that simple.  I've already had a touch of that feeling like a pound puppy and feeling judged by others to decide if I'm good enough to be a mother.  I don't even want to get into the manipulation of some that make you feel guilty that you question your level of comfort in how much you are willing to take on in caring for a child that may be atypical in health or development, among other factors.  It is not just a decision about you, there is also a great deal of thought of how it may impact the child.  It is not an easy process and it becomes more complicated the older that you get because young parents are so desired.  It is not to say that it doesn't happen; it thankfully and rightfully does.  I may be open to adoption in the future, but there are so many factors that go into that decision process.  Again, it needs to be inclusive of what is best for me and my hoped partner.

So yes, I do feel there is plenty of time to meet and connect with the man who I dream of sharing a life.  There is a larger and more generous timeline for that to happen.  What is not so forgiving is the time that my body has left to have a baby of my own--my own flesh and blood--my eyes, my hair or my freckles--my love of books, my playful spirit or my feeling at home with nature, art and football.  And all of those kinds of things found in my partner, but mushed in combination with me into one little being.

Part of me feels that if I become too comfortable and caught up in this single life that I may accidentally push away the chance of being a mother.  It's like if I "forget" about it, it may not happen.  Will the universe forget that dream deep within me?  If by living in the moment and not constantly hoping for a child, will the higher power think that having a child is no longer important to me?

Part of me worries that if I keep worrying about it not happening, that it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy and will not happen.  I am afraid of the disappointment that may not come.  I want to be hopeful and believe.  But, what if I am setting myself up for more heartache if it doesn't happen?

I feel caught between quietly hoping, but not hoping too much or not enough, and keeping the fears at bay of it not happening, or worse hoping and believing and it not happening and then being crushed.  I know this is the worst constructed sentence ever.  But, I don't know how else to write all of what I am feeling at the same time.  My thoughts and feelings on motherhood for myself all are a jumbled blob, just like that sentence.  My chest feels tight and the tears silently roll down my cheeks wrapping my brain around all of my thoughts and feelings.

And somehow I have to release the fears, find the courage to believe and get back to living my life as it is in the present--not just getting by, but living a full, happy and content life now.  I know that responsibility resides in me; it is just remembering to do it.  Perhaps focusing on being thankful for what I do have will help me to seize the most that life has to offer me.

As a good friend said to me a few years ago...when one door closes, another one opens.  Maybe all of what I have been through is to make room for something more than I could ever imagine.  After A~, I felt I found that with RJ, but it did not last.  So, I hold onto hope that there is something even better and that my time will not run out.

Mother's Day Tribute, Part I

It is funny how life works sometimes.  It is true that certain people come into our lives for a reason.  I have experienced this blessing countless times over, and I so enjoy taking in the vast amazement of it.  Diane is one of these people, who has become a close friend and confidant.

When I moved to Pittsburgh the second time, there were some strange coincidences of shared commonalities between me and A~ and another couple that was moving into the neighborhood a few houses down the street.  We built similar style homes and moved within a month of each other.  The guys were both starting work at the same hospital, in the same department and with the same position.  Diane and I shared backgrounds in teaching elementary school.

We started to hang out and got along pretty well.  I really enjoyed Diane and G~'s sense of humor, genuine spirit and warmth that adds to the sense of community in a neighborhood.  Diane and I would trade tips on yard work and house projects and quickly became the go-to people if others had questions about new house things.  When you build a new home, there are "fun" things like inspections to get the builders to come fix the stuff they forgot to do the first time.  Diane and I were both meticulously organized and masterful in accumulating resources and lists of numbers of helpful people to call to get our requests done correctly and promptly. 

Then as the neighborhood became more established, it was time to elect a board for the home owner's association.  It seemed like the general consensus around the neighborhood was to be chill and let everyone just enjoy having their new home and yard and do what they liked with them.  So to help keep it that way, Diane ran to be elected to the board and I was asked to be on the architectual control committee.  Our platform was to be as anti-HOA as possible...in that if you have to go through the process of getting something approved, our answer was yes.  Sometimes it was difficult to stay within the rules, but we helped home owners find the holes and exeptions to get their requests approved while following the set by-laws and guidelines.  Diane and I even distributed a survey about the rules around fences, which was a hot debate.  It turned out most people wanted there to be fewer restrictions.  So, we wrote up an addendum and sent out ballots for a vote.  When there were not enough votes to represent a majority (one way or the other on the issue), we went door to door to get the rest of the ballots.  In the end, the fence by-law was changed to reach a compromise.  Woohoo!  Local politics and do-gooders at its finest!

The point is that Diane and I bonded.  We talked shop about teacher stuff, shared stories and watched Pens games.  We consulted each other about the latest and greatest at Lowes, Home Depot and Target.  We went for walks and chatted with neighbors.  As we are both people who tend to stay up late, we could see the lights on in each other's houses and would send emails back and forth.  And there was my garage door...there were times that I would get a call from Diane telling me that my garage door was open around ten or eleven at night.  Or I would be at the store and forget if I closed the garage door on my way out, and I would call Diane to check.  From her home office with a laugh, "Yep, Jamie.  You're good."  I never had a garage door opener and for some reason it would just slip my mind!

Then in the spring, A~ and G~ had a conference in Las Vegas.  Diane and I joined them and turned it into a bit of a vacation.  It was a great time to get away to get a dose of warm weather, sunshine and pool time.  Good food, fun and time to relax...time to get away...to escape the dark side of what I had been silently carrying with me for over a year.

One day in the middle of lunch with just the two of us, Diane stopped.  I don't remember exactly how the conversation went, but Diane brought up the topic of children.  I forget if she asked me or if she disclosed first.  But as it turned out, G~ and Diane had been trying to conceive for years with no success.  She asked me if A~ and I had been trying and if we were having similar difficulty.  Tears filled my eyes, both in great sadness and relief.  I was sad for myself in facing the harsh, stark truth of not being able to conceive a child so out in the open.  I felt so vulnerable and ashamed.  But I felt even more sad for Diane because what I had experienced was no where near the emotional pain that she and G~ had already been through.  I felt relief on a certain level in that the truth was finally out, and that I was not alone.  Suddenly, I felt like I could breathe again.

Before this very moment, it was a silent pain that only A~ and I knew. We told no one.  We didn't tell our parents, our family or our closest friends.  To the exponentially, increasingly asked question, "When are you going to have kids?," our response was an avoidant, steeped in an awkwardly masked sadness, "Someday."

Diane's disclosure of her history of infertility was honorable, sensitive and kind.  She said that it seemed that when you have experienced it, it is like you develop a kind of radar for it.  It is not something that is openly talked about, but somehow you know.  Diane and I talked at length that day, both in her sharing her story and me sharing mine.  Diane told me about Babycenter.com, or the BBC, with its on-line community of women who are mothers, who will be mothers or who are trying to be mothers.  She told me how you can go on the board and find different groups to find the support you need.  There were other women who told their stories, asked questions and offered support.  Diane said she became friends with many of these women, exchanged emails and stayed in contact with them through the years. 

It was because of Diane that I learned about the BBC.  Once I was brave enough to go on-line with the website, I was lucky enough to find a network of caring, loving, supportive women.  I met a remarkable group of ladies who have helped me immensely through my journey with infertility, divorce and rebuilding of my life.  And Diane has been that same support IRL, which takes on a powerful connection of its own.  However, I have since met many of the ladies from the BBC in real life, too.  There will always be something special about the relationships that I have with the BBC ladies, but there is also this shift that makes it that much more real when I've met them in person.  And so I hope that one day all of the BBC ladies can meet each other.  :)

But my story does not end here.

Diane continues to be a source of inspiration, strength and true friendship.

I'll tell more in the second part...

Bananas & Babes

Last weekend I was in Cleveland visiting family and friends. One of those visits included hanging out at Christine and Erich's house and their three children. The youngest was born in September (great month by the way) and it was my first time to meet her. I love the time I spend with Chris because it always feels like we just pick up right where we left off. Her kids are also hysterical, witty and smart.

Case in point, N~ was putting on the two-year-old charm. He was making me banana smoothies and banana cream pie with a side of bananas with the blender and dishes from his sister's Barbie dollhouse. He set up a tiny plate and cabana style glass for each of us. Of course, we would say "cheers" before enjoying the pretend beverages and morsels of food. And repeat, about four more times as N~ cleared the table and so seriously got into his play of making the meal again. I love how kids will replay over and over a scenario. It is so cute!

But what melted my heart was that as I was holding baby G~ she fell asleep in my arms.

Now, I realize that it was getting late and that it was a time that she would usually fall asleep. However, I have not had a chance to hold a baby that long for an uninterrupted period of time in quite a while. Chris is great because she is trusting and she knows that I love holding babies. She has always been wonderful about inviting me to hold her kids as we are hanging out and gabbing. And as we were talking, I noticed that baby G~ was starting to get a little fussy, so I stood up and gently rocked her as we went over to the kitchen island to continue our conversation. At some point, I felt that shift of when a baby suddenly feels heavier and knew she probably fell asleep. So sweet. I asked Chris if she wanted to put her down in her crib and she said the baby was fine if I was fine because the baby usually nods off for a bit in the evening before her last feeding before sleeping for the rest of the night.

What makes this moment extra special is because baby G~ let me hold her for so long. Long before I was in a place to seriously contemplate starting a family, I had a knack for holding babies. They would smile and coo or fall asleep as I held them. Sometimes a person would warn that the baby might be a bit fussy and did not always let anyone hold them, but many times these kiddos would also warm up to me, too.

Then somewhere around the height of the emotional time of IF, it was like no baby wanted any part of me. And this continued after my divorce. I know there are times that are just plain not good times for a baby to be held (i.e. hungry, over tired, teething, been passed around too much, or just really wanting their mom--all really good reasons). But it seemed like I went on this streak of having poor luck around infants and it kind of hurt my feelings. I felt kind of rejected, not by the baby, but more like from the universe. Was this supposed to be some kind of sign that I was never meant to be a mother? Or was it a signal to tell me that it is just not my time and to focus on other parts of my life?

Interestingly, in my development classes I have read plenty of articles about bonding and the reciprocal relationship between a mother and child. Sometimes it is the child who may have a difficult temperament that can make it challenging for a parent to bond. Sometimes it is the parent's fears that it will not happen that can get in the way of bonding. Maybe something has changed in me and maybe I am in a better place in my life--not just in getting closer to my career goals, but emotionally.

As a friend said to me yesterday--yes I am moving beyond the troubles of my past. It is not about dealing with them or processing them, but that subtle difference of having built enough space between it and my present to be ready to take on the next adventures that I want out of life. I am ready!

Inside/Outside Box

During my summer internship, one of the Child Life staff was sharing about her experiences during a conference about death, grief and bereavement. She talked about a presenter whose son had died and what she did to help her process her feelings of grief. The presenter was an artist and she used mixed media to express her sorrow, pain and anger, which she photographed and put into a packet. The Child Life Specialist passed the packet around the room. One piece that spoke to me in particular was a sculpture of two hands holding tattered, blue cloth that looked like it came from a worn, favorite hoodie. The artist shared that when a child dies, it is often the child's clothing that can be the most difficult to let go.

The tears started to flow and I wept silently as the Child Life Specialist finished speaking. She was also teary and shared that she was so deeply moved and touched by the presenter from the conference. My thoughts shifted and it was like tiny pieces were beginning to falling into place...those of acceptance with giving myself permission to grieve my own loss.

As I have been reading to prepare for the Child Life certification exam, I read a chapter about death, dying and children. In it, it explained that a death of a child is the greatest loss a parent can experience. It goes against all expectation in that a child is not supposed to die before the parent and it is the death of the dream of all that was hoped for that child. It can be isolating and complicated. Grandparents experience two losses. They experience similar losses as the parents in hopes of the future. But then they also struggle to support their adult children because there is nothing they can do to take away the pain. Bonding and love start long before a child is born--it can begin with learning of conception--and for some, maybe in the process of deciding to attempt to become parents. Those building dreams and hopes are strong. When a child dies, it takes a long time for parents to go through the different levels of grief before they are able to carry forward in their lives.

In addition, a failed adoption can be very similar and real as a death of a child. The emotional investment process also begins prior to a child being placed into a home. It can be devastating, sharing several parallels. I experienced imagining a life with that someday child. Both of my parents said that they felt a double loss. While they could relate on some level, they also struggle knowing that my pain is different and almost unreachable because they are parents. My brother and sister were very angry in that protective way about the divorce. However, over time, that anger has been replaced by a deep sadness. As I listened to the lecture and read the chapter, there were times that I could identify in my own way with the loss of a child. In my case, while the failure of the adoption was due to the failing of my marriage--and not of the biological parents changing their minds--it has been a considerable loss for me. These recent events have validated my deeply felt pain as real and deserving of time for me to process that pain.

Now, back it up to April with my play therapy class. For the final project of the class, we partnered up with a classmate to research and present one form of play therapy. Part of the presentation included doing an activity to demonstrate and practice that form of therapy. One of the groups presented on art therapy and chose inside/outside boxes for the activity.

Basically, you are given a box to decorate the inside and the outside. The outside of the box is how you think you appear or present yourself to everyone in the world. The inside of the box is how you feel on the inside, which often has elements that are private and that you keep to yourself. The activity allows a person to non-verbally communicate these thoughts and feelings in something concrete. Each person has the choice to share or to keep private the contents of the inside of the box. It is very important to respect the individual's choice to foster trust in the therapeutic relationship. So, no peeking!

At first, as I was making my box, I didn't really feel so into becoming super invested in the project. My emotions were running high and I just did not feel like sharing. So, I decided to make the outside of the box kind of cute and girlie. I allowed myself to go with the flow and get lost in the fun of sparkles, shiny and pink.

Once the outside was complete, it was time to start on the inside. I figured that I would just keep going with picking out whatever fit my fancy--wanting to keep it light and breezy without too much thought. As I was routing around through the scrapbooking materials with my classmates, I happened to come across a sheet of stickers with hand and foot prints. They were pink and yellow and seemed to go along with the color scheme that seemed to have morphed from this box creation.

Then I stopped. My eyes went back and forth between the box and the sticker sheet in my hands. It was then that I took a second look at the box--a really good look. Suddenly, I realized that the box resembled something a child might make for their mother on Mother's Day. I felt like what I was holding was the dreamed representation of my desire to be a mother. It was my lost identity of wanting to be a mother.

I had a choice to make--to either blow off these sudden realized feelings to make more fluff or to allow myself to consciously open myself up to embrace the experience. With bated breath, I quickly decided to keep listening to my inner voice, but with new awareness and to put whatever raw emotion into the inside of the box. It was the correct decision. However, I questioned if it was okay for me to still be feeling so sad about not being able to adopt the twins from Utah.

Why wasn't I over it yet? When would enough time pass before I could really let go? Was there something wrong with me for still feeling so sad?

Something buried in my drawer was suddenly nagging me--the sleepers. I still had them--kind of forgot about them because I still had not decided what to do with them and was tabling to deal with it when I wasn't so busy with grad school. But forgotten, is not truly forgotten.

About a month later it was time for me to go to Columbus and I still had not gotten rid of the sleepers. I drove with them to a Goodwill store (again), but just kept going because it just did not feel right. I couldn't do it. So, I decided to deal with it after Columbus.

Fast forward back to the near present. I've been feeling badly about still having the sleepers. So, I decided that perhaps my inside/outside box was not complete. Maybe it would help if I wrote the twins a letter. Then maybe I could finally let go. Nope.

I realize what I am most afraid of is forgetting about what the sleepers look like and that somehow if I give them away that it is giving up on a dream of one day becoming a mother. But carrying them around in my drawer and in my heart to just too heavy.

So, I took some photos of the sleepers and printed out little pictures of them to put inside of my inside/outside box. I am trying to reframe the letting go of the sleepers in terms of letting go of the dreams I once had for adopting the twins. If I can convince myself of this connection between the sleepers and the twins, then by giving away the sleepers is not giving away the dream of motherhood. The inside/outside box allows me to mourn and honor that specific loss.

Maybe this is what I need to move forward. Maybe this is what my heart needs to be able to heal and to turn the corner of finding and enjoying life after loss.

Inside My Inside/Outside Box

• One hand and one foot print to represent each of the twins.
  




• A small stone noting the beginning and end of the IF journey of the past, '07-'09.
  




• A scrap of paper with the list of names I was thinking about for the babies.





• Photos of the sleepers.
  




• A letter.
  

Dear Utah Twins,

Although I was never able to meet you or hold you, my heart already started to dream about you. I remember the day I was on the phone and Suzy told me about you. My heart felt light--full of hope and life again. All of the sadness and heart ache began to fall away. It was like I could breathe again and I felt like dancing. When I told my then husband about you, we were driving in the car on our way to have dinner with his parents. He seemed to brighten and get just as giddy and excited as me about the possibility of you both coming home to us--to share a life with us. We called you our "Blue Light Special."

I will always remember that phone call and that drive. It was then that I allowed myself to dream about you. In my day dreams, I pictured flying out to Utah to pick you up. I had hoped to provide your mother with reassurance that we would love you and provide a good life for you both. I imagined holding and nestling each of you with love and tenderness as I would rock you to sleep at night. I could almost feel holding your tiny hands as babies growing into toddlers. I pictured taking you for walks and going to the park. Swinging on the swings, going to little league baseball games and playing in the fall leaves--those were the kinds of things I allowed myself to imagine. A love was planted on that day of the first phone call and it sung in my heart long after.

But we were not meant to be. He walked away--why, I cannot fully explain. And that dream of you slipped away--certainly I could not start it on my own--not then. It would have been selfish on my part, even if Suzy would have entertained the idea. It was a difficult call to make to tell her to pass. And in my heart I wished nothing but the best for you dear little ones. I hope you are now in the loving arms of a family who can give you their whole heart and soul, just as if you were their own. You deserve nothing less.

From time to time I wonder about you--how much you have grown, what are the things that most light you up and capture your attention and the little people you are becoming. How do you smile? How do you laugh? Is there a twinkle in you eye or dimple in your cheek? Are you bold or are you sensitive and sweet?

But one thing I do hope is that you have each other. Take care of each other--be tender and patient and kind--be encouraging and supportive and strong--be forgiving and honest and thankful.

Even though I could not take you home as my own, know that there is someone out there thinking and praying for you. All that I have to give you is a little angel of hope.

Love,

Jamie

Feeling Something in the Air

March is a difficult month for me. I wrote about it last year in my post, March Madness. Even though I feel like I have done a lot to process those events and feelings, there is still a trace that is felt now. I have found myself to be quite emotional for the past few weeks. There are times when I can barely hold back the tears that seem to come from somewhere deep within me--a great and overwhelming sadness. When I stepped outside on Friday, there was something in the air, the wind and the sunshine that took me to that place again in a snap. But the sadness that I felt was somehow different. It was like in layers, some distant and some newly surfacing. The welled up feelings seemed to suddenly fall into place and crystallize in one moment, in one breath. As I am moving beyond my past relationship and my past life, it is the loss of motherhood that haunts me.

A few weeks ago, I was volunteering at the hospital and visiting with children who needed a little extra company. As I reached into the crib to pick up the infant, the blanket slipped a bit and I saw the stripped print of his sleeper. He was wearing the same sleeper that I had purchased for the babies I had once hoped to adopt with my ex. The same sleeper that still sits in a drawer in one of my nightstands.

Of course I was sad and I gave pause in that moment. But I also tried to push aside my feelings so that I wouldn't completely fall apart while sitting in the hospital with this child. I rocked him and sang songs to him.

After I left, I wondered what my baby would have looked like, would have felt like in that sleeper. And then I realized that if my ex and I had been able to adopt those twins from Utah, they would have turned two-years-old this month. I could be the mother of two-year-old twins right now. What would we have already experienced together? What moments would I have treasured? What would we be doing right now? I pictured taking them outside and going to a park, going to the grocery store or holding their little hands. And it all just makes me so sad. The chance of motherhood seeming to have slipped past me.

And has it really been two years? That feels so long and far away. And then I feel like it is pitiful that I still have the sleepers. I have felt ready to pass them along for a while, or at least that is what I have told myself. I no longer feel like giving them away means giving away the dream of motherhood, either, which is good. I just haven't found a place that seems good enough to give away something so significant to me. I can't tell you how many times I have driven past the Good Will store or shook my head as I passed a donation drop off box. But, my most recent thoughts on the sleepers have been to maybe donate them to the hospital. I don't know, maybe.

It is time. I have held onto the sleepers for too long and I don't want to feel like they are holding me back. Before I do, I think I will write a letter. I need to have my good-bye and I think it will be good to write about what they had meant to me.

All Too Much, But Moving Forward in Time

I hit a wall this past weekend. There have just been little things that have been adding up along the way. It came to a head when I was mapquesting directions on how to get to my godson's first birthday party.

It started with a short conversation that came up at dinner with a few of my unmarried girlfriends. One of the girls asked if she would need to be getting any new friends soon if we were going to leave her and all have kids. She has had a bunch of married friends that have recently become pregnant and one couple adopted. I don't think she is planning on having a family, but I think she still feels the pressure of feeling left behind as some people take a different path in their life. Children change lives and relationships. There are plenty of people who can feel sad by the changes in life as friends grow families, even if they haven't experienced IF. The conversation turned to us all having friends who have gotten pregnant and even lapped more than once. What hit me was thinking about the handful of friends of mine who are done growing their families. Not only have I been lapped, but I have friends who I try to support as they confront how their children are growing and will never be babies again and there will be no more babies to follow. That is sad. And life is not without sadness, babies or not.

Then at a party a guy happened to ask, "Dude is it normal to have pictures of other people's babies on your fridge?" Wake up man, we are not getting any younger and we are getting to that point in our lives that there are a lot of married people and they have their share of children. I felt sad for one of the ladies in the room who had a look of hurt. It seemed that maybe she, like me, hopes to have one of her own on some one's fridge someday.

And I wonder if anyone judges me in that I had been married once and "had my chance." It is a double edge sword to be divorced. I wonder if those who have not been married judge me in that "at least I got to be married." But I have a feeling that anyone who has known someone who has gone through divorce, has some insight on the pain and the vast reach of its destruction. But I try to be sensitive of those who are my age who have not been married and would very much like to share that with someone special.

Then New Guy and I went to a gathering for an out of town friend of his. I was not sure what all I was in for, but told myself, relax and no expectations--meaning no negative expectations. His friend is pregnant with twins and handling it with strength, gratefulness and grace. I was thankful for the evening not to include pregnant people complaining about being pregnant. And even though her parent's house was full of babies and small, energetic children, I handled it pretty well. It was nice to feel kind of normal, no impulses to go running through a wall--Kool-Aid Man style. Had I known New Guy's friends a little better, I would have asked one of the couples if I could have held their two-month old. But I know new parents can sometimes be a little weird, let alone with me being a stranger, so I didn't ask.

Then Sunday rolled around. I was originally going to go to Cleveland on Saturday, but I was just kept prolonging on when I would go on the trip. I wasn't sure why. But it hit me once I finished mapquesting the directions from my parent's house. My closest friends in Cleveland are married and have kids. I feel so left behind. I feel left behind from those friends with whom I have had the longest relationships in my life. As I was gathering my stuff to go, I welled up with tears. My dad asked what was wrong and took a few guesses--boyfriend, school or my move. The answer was clearly no on all of those and I told him that sometimes it is just really hard to be around babies or small children. My dad was sad with me and hugged me. He sighed. Then he said, that I would need to pull it together and be happy for my friend. I knew that and told him so. I just needed to let myself feel sad so that I could regather my composure and be in a place to be happy for my friend and my godson. And I felt incredibly guilty for this to be the moment to crumble. I am very happy for my friend and honored to be his godmother.

Sometimes I can be fine and sometimes I just fall apart. And while I have many more times in which I am fine verses the times that I am not, I just can't predict when those bad times will be. I guess in one way I have gotten to a healthier place in that I don't worry so much about my reaction around children or feel like I have to be on guard in regards to my reaction if I am around children. I try to take one moment at a time and deal with my emotions as they come. I think I was on a bit of baby-over-load/feeling left behind. It just all added up to be too much. And I realize there are still triggers out there for me. But I also feel that once I come across those triggers and understand why they cause the stir of pain within me, I am able to let those triggers go more easily or in time.

For example, the sight of a baby carrier that can be used as a car seat used to make me cry. But once I realized how that was connected to my loss of my future identity as a mother (shortly after everything fell apart with my ex), I was able to move beyond it. I had once been in a place where my identity was driven in the direction of motherhood. And when my relationship with my ex fell apart, I had to let go that I was not going to be a mother. I had to reform my identity and once I accepted the changes in my life, the car seat no longer had the same effect on me. Granted, I may one day still have the chance to be a mother, but that possibility is so far off the map for me right now. I have a lot more I have yet to do in my life before that could even begin to be a possibility again. I accept that, but it doesn't make it is easy sometimes.

Also, on a side note, I have had a recent rash of grandparents telling me all about their grandkids. It has been a bunch of random strangers in small talk and somehow grandchildren seem to come up. I don't know why this has been happening lately. And they tend to be the ones that are the happy complainers--we finally have grandchildren or those grandkids just wear me out. Thanks for sharing, I just feel like I've been sucker punched in the gut. They don't know me or my past, so I can't really be upset with them. But it still hurts.

Yep, I think grandparents are my new trigger. But I have been thinking about that one and I think it is related to feeling sad for my parents. My mom and dad had always been supportive when it came to the decision to have children when I was with my ex. It was not something they pushed and they respected the decision to have children is an important decision for the couple. They also said that if we wanted children, there was no pressure to rush and we should enjoy our time together--that children would come when they are supposed to come. When my ex and I shared that we were going to start trying, I just remember how happy they both were for us. I could see the excitement and twinkle in their eyes. Then with my divorce, I felt like my parents were teased with the prospect of having grandchildren. It was a loss for them, too--to be so close and to have it disappear. And my parents have never made me feel badly for it. I just feel sad when I think about it.