Mother's Day Tribute, Part 2 and Part 3

Four years ago, I wrote an entry about my friend, Dianne.  She was the first person, outside of my previous spouse, that I confided in about IF.  I had been suffering in silence for about a year when she opened up and shared her story, and it allowed me to tell the beginning of mine.  She also guided me to where I could seek support from a community online, which I am forever grateful.

At the time of when I wrote the first post, my intention was to write two parts.  The first part was in thanking Diane for all of her support through some very rough spots and transitions in my life.  The second part was to be a celebration, which it still is.  However, there are many more lessons I have learned from my friend that deserves recognition.

So, before there is part two, there should really be a part one and a half because it is often the journey and not the destination that has the rich stuff in life.

When I met Diane, she and her husband had been trying to have a child for quite some time through a variety of ways.  However, they were on a break, and one that seemed to be considering if they had hit their limit.  To someone who was new to this whole IF journey, and had just felt so much comfort from our mutual disclosures, it was a bit jarring.  There were feelings of relief, sadness and hope that were suddenly tapped by meeting someone who had been there and really got it.  It was quickly followed by feelings of confusion, fear and loneliness.  How could I be learning about all of this stuff and now you all are going to stop trying?  I just learned about your journey and it could be the end, without a baby?

Fortunately, unfortunately, I had an aunt and uncle whom struggled to have a child of their own and I had learned as a young preteen that each couple makes the best decisions for themselves and it is to be respected.  While other couples may choose various, alternate paths to creating a family, it does not mean that every couple tries everything or for a defined amount of attempts.  Every couple has their limits, which only they can know.  I kept quiet.  But on the inside was cheering for them, as one may tend to do at the beginning of their IF ride.

But, Diane taught me the value of stopping, whether by choice or not.  It is important not to loose yourself.  Take time to invest in you.  Center yourself.  Be kind to yourself.  Love yourself.  If you get a little lost, get off the roller coaster and rediscover yourself because you need the best you.  When you are the best you, you will have more to give.  You are special, worthy and strong.  Remember, you deserve to be happy, regardless of the outcome.  Be more than, always be more than.

Time passed, and Diane and her hubby decided to try and grow their family one more time.  Then, part two...

Diane called with fantastic news!  They were matched and were going to adopt a baby boy!  Joy upon joy!!

And that was just a few months before Mother's Day four years ago.  I was thrilled for my friend.  She seemed to be in a place in her life that was not distracted in desperation (my feelings at the time if I was in her position, not her feelings necessarily), but a tempered hope to try one more time while living her life as it was.  I believe it helped her to be more present in her joy of that moment.  It was beautiful to see Diane and her husband welcome this adorable little child into their home.

This I would have shared four years ago, but time slipped by and it felt too much time had passed.  Plus, I realized that while Diane and her husband adopted the little guy, it would take time through the legal system to make it fully official.  So, I did not want to jinx it and justified that I could wait until his official day in court.  Unfortunately, that took much longer than expected by no fault of their own.  But, that day came and I was so very happy for all of them.

So, more time had passed and I told myself, next year.  And this post sat in my head.  But honestly, it allowed me to learn a few more things from my friend, Diane.

Part three...

Diane is a wonderful example of a mother who loves her child deeply.  She is an awesome mother.  It is an honor that she shares this special person and their moments together with family and friends, and that I get to see him grow up in pictures and in person.  Diane and her husband are truly grateful in their blessing of their special little guy and it shows through in their pictures and stories and how they interact with him.  They are realistic, too.  He is a kid and kids do all kinds of stuff that we love and that drives us crazy and love some more.

Diane also seems to strike that balance of not over sharing and keeping some things just for themselves when it comes to online media.  She is also mindful of others, especially those who have lost children or who are hoping to have a child one day.  And Diane is not alone, as I have other friends that I have met through the IF community that do so, as well.

But, I think the other thing I learned from Diane and other mothers after IF is that "getting your happy ending" does not equate to making everything else better with no more worries.  Life carries onward.  And with it, there are health issues, bills, caring for the sick, disappointments, job loss, house repairs, death of a loved one, rationships to nurture, moving homes, career transitions, going back to school, loss of a pet, difficult decisions and so much more.  It can be easy to get lost in the idea of an idealized, imagined life.  It is important not to forget why you wanted to be a parent and to welcome a child into your family for the right reasons.

So, again, it is the journey that teaches.  Sometime it is the journey that follows a moment in time, too.  Thank you, Diane!  Thank you to the other ladies that I met through this online community!  You all have taught me so much.  And in your words, Diane,  ...Happy Mothering Day!

Healthy Hope and A Choice for a Childfull Life

While scrolling through Facebook, I saw a piece that caught my eye from mindbodygreen.com.  It comes from the perspective of a life that once dreamed of having a child, but it did not come to be for the author.  She shares her insights and learning from a living a life without children.

My IVF Treatments Failed.  Here's What I Wish Others Struggling With Infertility Knew.   By Justine Brooks Froelker

I appreciate that she is another voice who shares the side of the story of when a person is not able to have a child of their own.  What happens?  How does the person move forward?

Some of what she says echoes what others have expressed.  Although, hearing those sentiments repeated is validating.  She talks about breaking the silence, being careful not to compare your journey to others, respecting our individual limits and being more than trying to have a baby.  These seem to be good things to keep in mind however your IF journey unfolds, baby or not.

Then the author takes it to the next step, the space where there is no baby.  Below are a few quotes I really liked.


"For us, healthy hope has meant redefining our dream of family, accepting that we will never have children, and yet doing the work to always have children in our lives."


"For us, this is in living a childfull life and finding ways to parent in honor of our babies who we don't get to hold."


"When we give ourselves permission to feel it all, at the same time, we can find our clarity again.  In the complicated gray of life, we can awaken to life in color again."



It takes time to figure out how to live without a child in your family in the way you had once hoped and imagined.  It takes time to sort through the feelings and knowing you will not ever be done feeling them all, but finding a way to dream new dreams and deciding how to fold children into your life, how to make room to experience motherhood or parenthood a bit differently.  And maybe for me it has been a bit awkward at times, but I'm trying to figure it out.  T~ and I are still near the beginning of our life as a couple.  While we are newlyweds, we have been together for three years and have had several conversations about children and family.  We still have hope, but we are realistic in knowing that time is limited.  This part of our story is still playing out.  But, it is up to us in how we decide to live while in this space of between.

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.

Chess Game

I have a little bit of a tendency to get ahead of myself sometimes.  I worry easily.  In my last post, I eluded to what has been occupying my thoughts.

Life can sometimes feel like a chess game, where it seems important to set yourself up towards getting closer to your dreams.  The dream is possible motherhood and I worry about time.  T~ and I will be getting married in December and I am very happy.  I don't want to rush into trying to have a family, but time is limited.  On top of that, I am not quite where I would like to be in terms of my career.  I'm getting there, but I would feel much more comfortable if the status was a bit more permanent.  I want to be in a position to more comfortably provide for a child.

But, it is also for my feeling secure.  T~ is open to me working part-time and figuring it out.  But for me, having been through divorce, I do not feel comfortable possibly giving up my career for a child.  I left my full-time job in my past marriage when we started trying to have a family (the timing fell into place with him transferring out of state and I just finished the school year--I did not just up and quit--this was also just as the recession was rolling in and we moved to state with an over saturation of teachers), and then he left me.  I went back to school, and now I'm building a second career.  I do not feel any doubts about T~ and his commitment to me and to us.  I just worry about other terrible what if's.  The job market is very competitive and tight right now.  You don't really get an infinite number of chances.  There are times I wonder if I should have stayed with teaching.  It would have been the safe choice.  But then, I would not have met T~, and I was following my heart.  And he is wonderful and makes me feel happy.  I just hate being in a place of limbo.  I'm trying to be okay with where I am, but it can be difficult.  Also, I just don't want to end up in a place where I feel like I have to choose between child or career.  It feels like there is little room for error.

It is stressing me out.  I feel like if I don't get all of my ducks in a row in the next two or three years, then my chance at motherhood will quickly pass.  And even if it all works out like I hope, it is no guarantee for a baby.

So then I try to refocus my thoughts on the present and remember to be happy with what I have in my life.  It is not easy when you are a planner.

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 my godchild, 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 my parents 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.

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.

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.

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

Two Tomatoes

When you put two teachers together, they are bound to eventually talk about education and teaching in some form or another. But those conversations are even better when it is when you get to talk about what makes you excited about the field.

I am beginning to work on my thesis project and wanted to borrow a book from my friend. When I picked it up from her house, she asked me about my project and how it relates to the book I was borrowing. She was a great listener and could not agree more about the importance of developing a rich vocabulary with children of the toddler/preschool group to help them have better success in reading comprehension later down the road. Then my friend showed me a booklet that was sent home with her daughter who just started Kindergarden. It was about the school's approach to teaching handwriting that focuses on directionality in a kid friendly way using picture cues for the lines (sky, grass, ground, and worm levels). I asked her if she would mind if I flipped through it, commenting that I knew I was being such a teacher dork. She laughed and said not at all. Got to love those envigorating teacher conversations!

As we were having these conversations hanging on the door knob, her kids bounced into the living room to greet me. Little Bear regailed her story about riding her bike without her training wheels for the first time, complete with twirling kicks and spins (in the story telling, not the bike riding). She was quiet proud, as she should be! I loved how both of her parents beamed with pride, especially because their daughter was fully owning up to her accomplishments and efforts.

Pickle was just looking up at me with all smiles and my friend commented, "Someone is in love." He then told me about his visit with his neighbor that afternoon. She gave both of the kids three tomatoes and said to be sure to share. He held out the smallest of his three and said, "Here, Miss Jamie, I'm going to share it with you." My friend mouthed, "You might want to wash that when you get home, but you don't have to eat it." It was sufficiently covered in that kid-feel-coating from having been carried all around with him that day. Nice and warm with a slight, sticky tackiness on the surface. I smiled and took his gift as it melted my heart.

Then his sister burst into the scene and said that those were her tomatoes. It's funny how kids know that stuff. My friend asked Pickle to give Little Bear her tomatoes and fished out his true three from the bag without missing a beat. Then Pickle gave me another tiny tomato. As I was returning Little Bear's tomato, she told me to keep it because her neighbor did say to share. I thanked them both for their generocity and said good-bye.

Getting Rid of the Elephant in the Room

I've been meaning to write a post about this for a while--it is related to how I am handling people's pregnancies. I had written about how difficult it was for me to hear this news for three close friends from growing up. It is difficult because I had always imagined that at some point I could be pregnant with them--to share the experience together. So it can be sad to feel like life is passing me by in someways. But then I take a step back and realize that my life is on a different path and I refocus on what I am thankful to have in my life.

I am thankful for loving and supportive friends--in new friends and old friends who are like sisters to me. I am thankful to have the opportunity to work on completing my master's degree and I have hope in continuing a fresh start in my life. I am thankful for having a heart that is open to love and meeting RJ, who does not shy away from my past and accepts me--all of me. I am thankful for the unconditional love of my family and the moments in which their strength shines through. I am thankful for the strength to embrace hope--in not just surviving and moving beyond, but also in wanting to really live life in appreciating its satisfaction and wonder.

So, I am happy to say that I decided to visit my dear friend, Karen, in the hospital after the birth of her second child. I am glad that I did this with a positive mindset in not just doing the right thing, but wholeheartedly wanting to give back and support her. I felt it was important to visit her because she was honoring our relationship with the invitation to share in this important moment in her life. I really appreciate my friendship with Karen because she strikes that delicate balance of being mindful of my past struggles with IF, but she also does not shy away and continues to sensitively include me in her life with her family.

And as life moves forward, there are and will be other important people who become pregnant in my life. I am happy to say, most of the women I have met in the IF community now have children or are expecting a child. I want to also thank these women for their continued friendship and sharing of their journeys. While it might be easier to drift apart, I value their reciprocated support. I enjoy reading and talking to them about their experiences and I am happy that they recognize and support my life path, even if it is different.

As it might sound selfish or silly to sometimes want to hide from the world of pregnancy and motherhood, I know and I don't want to ignore it forever. It is not healthy or realistic. Life moves on and I am learning how to accept and celebrate pregnancy and motherhood with the special women in my life. It will not be the same as before IF, but avoiding it now doesn't work for me either. Life is not all about me and I want to be there for my friends and loved ones. I feel a shift, which I think is a healthier way to carry forward. I can recognize my sadness, but I can also share in the happiness I feel for my friends and loved ones.

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.

Not Quite There Yet

As of late, my mind has been wondering about my future. I think I might be getting a little ahead of myself in my worries about where I want to focus my job search once I graduate. I feel this pressure like I need to decide where I want to settle and make roots. But I am realizing that I think it is more important to have grounding in myself and to take my roots with me in where ever that might be. I want my life to be open to the possibility of having a family with someone I love. My heart aches to be a mother. But I know that is not on the map for me at this point in my life. I feel I need to first get my career in order and to establish a self-sustaining independence. And I don't want to just find anyone in order to just have a family. I need to remind myself that I want a loving and respectful partner to share in the adventure of life.

I am scared about the possibility of moving away from RJ when I am done with my studies. I wonder if RJ thinks about me as being part of his future? I wonder if he feels pressure in the direction of our relationship? I know I am feeling pressure and I feel like it is affecting my ability to be genuine and present when I am with RJ sometimes. Other times I feel like we are just in the flow, like the night that we spontaneously worked on a puzzle quiz together. I find myself questioning the fit of our relationship and if the out of sync feeling is a result of me being a graduate student and going to Columbus or if it is us. I feel like there is some distancing. Is this because RJ's feelings have changed for me? Or is it in my head and I could actually be the one who is giving him mixed messages and distancing myself from him? Then the layer of feeling sad about motherhood complicates things for me and I have to separate that from my relationship with RJ at the moment.

I talked to my therapist about my sadness surrounding not being a mother. He said it takes some getting used to not being married and time to let go of some of the things that may come with marriage. I am experiencing grief. And it has recently been brought on because I am having difficulty with the fact that three of my closest friends from growing up are all pregnant. One is a first time mother-to-be and one is expecting her second and one is expecting her third. I am being lapped on multiple levels and I don't want to feel ugly about it. I feel guilty about how to be there for them without feeling hurt.

Then I was babysitting for some friends of mine this week. It was such a sweet day with their two kids and I loved every moment. It wasn't until later that evening that I felt the bittersweet sadness. I realized the meaning of that twinge earlier in the afternoon as I was buckling one of the kids into his car seat. All of what I did with the kids was so simple, but I loved it and it felt so natural. We colored pictures, watched the mail truck drop off the mail, and took the dog outside. Our time outside with the dog could be an entire post because of all of life and silliness in it. Their favorite part of the day was helping to clean up poop. The snow finally melted and the yard needed some extra cleaning up. And because the house sits on a hill, the poop gets flung into the wooded valley. Leave it to my teacher ways to even use the experience in a teachable moment about what it means to stand down wind as one of the kids said how stinky it was to stand to the right of me with the shovel. And even with the sadness, I am still thankful to have had that experience.

My mind knows that I am not in a position to be a mother right now--financially or relationally. I know I am young and it is still a possibility. But it is my heart that feels so sad. I just want others to hear that and accept that--period. I want acknowledgement, not a solution or pep talk. And I need to remind myself to be patient and to do one thing at a time. I need to refocus on the now. I am a graduate student and a single woman in a dating relationship. And I do and I don't want to talk to RJ. I don't want to hold back in a way that would be detrimental to the relationship and I don't want us to talk all of the time. I think I am just going to have to go with the moment and see how it unfolds.

Sweet Pickle

Every now and again, I babysit for a couple friend of mine. I enjoy the energy, silliness, and inquisitiveness of their two children. Today, their little princess, Bear, had a play date. So, it was just me and Pickle.

Pickle is not quite two and a half years old and he is just talking up a storm. He also hit a little bit of a growth spurt, so he has gotten noticeably taller. I should also mention he looks like a little man and has such a sweet, serious face. He always seems to be observing and thinking. When I walked in today, Pickle was in the middle of eating his lunch. He jumped down from the kitchen chair and came running over to greet me with a flirty smile and a hug. So sweet!

I was only going to babysit for about two hours. The schedule was lunch, books, and bed for a nap. Pickle is usually a big eater, but today he seemed distracted. Instead, I listened to him talk and it was a happy, slow lunch. He started getting a tired look and I asked him if he was done eating. He said yes and with that I suggested that he pick out some books. Pickle ran off to his room and carefully picked out the books. He brought them out to show me. Such a big boy! We went back to his room and he scurried up into his bed. As we slouched together, I read the books and he helped turn the pages and read along with his favorite parts.

The last book was a bit wordy, but I think he just liked listening to the rhythm of me reading the passage aloud. Then he reached up with his tiny hand, ever so gently, and patted my hair. He looked at me with his deep, big eyes and said in his high, little boy voice, "Jamie, I love your hair." He seemed fascinated by the curly waves as he brushed away a few of the stray wisps that came free from the bobby pin holding back my bangs. I teared up a little, but they were soft, happy tears from the tenderness of the moment.

Someone told me there are other ways to experience motherhood. And within, I know that is true, as I have felt it with the children in my classroom or some of the children I have met through volunteering at the hospital. While motherhood is frequently defined as the state of being a mother, which references having a child. Motherhood can also be defined as the qualities or spirit of a mother. I'm just glad that I could experience the second definition of motherhood today and for it not to be something sad. So often these kinds of moments have felt bittersweet, leaving me wonder if it will always hurt. But today, there was no heavy sadness. Instead, I was able to embrace the moment.

Thank you, Pickle. I told my friends about it when they got home and they thought it was sweet.