a little lighter
While the first part of the weekend was dark and gloomy and filled to the brim with tears, the second turned part was unexpectedly (and pleasantly) filled with hope that things will eventually, however difficult and rocky a path it will take to get there, work out and be just fine.
I don’t know what changed. Maybe it is the body’s way of securing survival, I don’t know. I felt as if I was almost as low as I could get and somehow a couple of hours yesterday changed things and gave me breathing space, much needed breathing space.
And this is not to say that all of a sudden I am okay and ready to run a marathon and forget my hopes and dreams. I woke up at 3am last night and I couldn’t fall asleep again. I kept thinking about wanting a baby and not being pregnant and all the fears that rush through my head every month. And as I tossed and turned and attempted to count sheep, my heart began beating quicker and quicker and I realised that a good Sunday alone won’t make things better. This is one heavy and exhausting journey and I will have plenty of nights like this one.
Thankfully I am not travelling alone. J is with me and even though this whole thing puts an enormous pressure on us and sometimes has us misunderstanding each other and feeling far apart, I feel blessed and extremely lucky that it is this very man who’s by my side. He’s optimism to my negativity. He pulls me up when I am far down just as I take him out of the sky when he needs to come back on the ground.
We went to my niece’s birthday yesterday and it was this thing that somehow made me believe in my hopes and dreams in a way I haven’t believed in a while. I thought being surrounded by children would be horrible, but the strangest of things happened. Among the guests were a young newlywed couple with a 15 month old son – and one more on the way the girl suddenly revealed midsentence. Under normal circumstances that would have knocked me over, I would have been scraping the floor. I would have stopped smiling and begun thinking about when we could leave. But somehow I didn’t. And while the girl talk about finding out she was expecting the second one on vacation in a country where she didn’t know the word for pregnancy test, I think my body just slowly unfolded itself from the foetal position it had been in all weekend and decided that it (and I) needed to believe a little in things.
I have a brother who is almost 10 years older than me. It was never meant to be that way, but complications from my mother’s first birth led to her being stitched up wrong which led to her and my dad trying for a second child for a long time without result. When they finally went to the doctor to get checked, they were able to give my parents their fertility back by doing the stitching again – this time the right way – and here I am. Our situation can in no way be compared to that of my parents, but the story kind of helps me to remember that I cannot control things. My parents didn’t have any fertility problems. Their problems were due to a doctor’s mistake, but in the end my parents got the children they wanted – even if they had to wait 10 years for number two.
I have been thinking a lot about waiting lately. About waiting for something I have wanted and dreamed of so heart wrenchingly for years now. And about how I might still have to wait a lot longer before something happens. If an adoption process turns out to be our only option, we will most likely have to wait for a child 4-5 years. This would mean we would both be in our mid-thirties before becoming parents. I know that even if an adoption process is not needed, we could still be in our mid thirties before becoming parents and I can’t do a single thing about it.
I would be naive if I didn’t admit to knowing that our relationship, our marriage, will be under strain from now on and until we become parents. Trying and trying and trying and failing and failing and failing do no good to anybody. It drenches what little energy you have left and it becomes predominant even though plenty of other things, good things, happen in your life.
My loving and optimistic husband told me this weekend that he thinks we need to relax and we need time. The dark side of me wants to fight this and tell him to go to somewhere very hot with this. But the lighter side of me, the one that shone through yesterday, tells me that maybe he is right. We need to relax, we need to spend time together, laugh instead of looking at each other with exhaustion and both thinking that we want to ditch the schedule of that specific night, loosen up and accept that there will be no late spring/early summer baby. Our baby won’t be a honeymoon baby. Our baby might not be conceived in 2008. Or 2009. But we need to live our lives, need to keep on moving and make the best of the time we have, because one day we’ll have someone to take care of and we’ll need to be able to tell the little thing that it was much wanted, but we made sure to live while waiting so when it finally arrived we weren’t worn out and exhausted and living the dark life that I sometimes tried to steer us towards.