A Letter to my Friends and Sunny Days...

Your support brings me to tears.

Your jubilant "Congratulations!"

Your heartfelt "I'm sorry!"

You cheer me on.

You support me when I fall.

You restore my confidence.

But I am not going to lie.

This is hard for me.

It is hard for me to return that support.

It is so hard for me to jubilantly say "Congratulations."

It's so hard to know that I wasted too much time and now I will never have a biological child.

It's so hard for me to face the fact that I may never experience a successful pregnancy.

I may never see or hear my baby's heartbeat.

I may never have that ultrasound telling me the gender of my baby.

I may never feel a flutter or a kick.

I may never experience childbirth.

To know that I may never have those things burns a hole in my soul.

And it makes it hard, so hard for me to be supportive back.

There are days, even several days in a row, where I don't care. I really don't care at all if I ever get pregnant. Days where I never want to cycle again. Where my desire to be a mom overrides the desire to be pregnant. And I am content. I say to myself: "As long as I am a mom I don't care how." and my heart rests for a moment and relishes in the knowing. Knowing that I am going to be a mom.

So why isn't that enough?

Because there are these other moments. The ones that take me by storm. By an emotional storm.

I recently went on a little vacation with V and her hubby. The first day V went off to get a manicure and so hubby and I decided to sit out by the pool.

It wasn't very busy out by the pool. As a matter of fact we were surprised by how few people were around.

There were maybe 10 people walking around or laying out. Not many swimming.

And of course among those 10 lousy people, plopping themselves down right next to me was a pregnant woman.

Well at first I was trying to figure out if she was pregnant or just fat. She had a cover up on and it was hard to tell.

But I kept studying her. I couldn't help it. And I determined that by the way she was walking with the start of a waddle (which still could have meant she was just fat) and how she kept resting her hand on top of her belly that she was indeed pregnant.

And then of course as I was completing my examination and drawing my conclusions on her, another very obviously pregnant woman walked up from the beach with her hand precariously placed on top of her beautiful, full belly.

As I swam laps in the pool I couldn't help staring at them as my emotions began to surface. I tried to look away. I tried to focus on swimming but the storm was already rolling in.

And with each lap I began feeling the loss, feeling the pain, feeling the jealousy until all I could think was: " I hate her!"

And I did. Hate her. In that moment in time, in the middle of the storm, I hated a perfect stranger because of my own short comings.

And then I hated myself for feeling that way but couldn't figure out how to make it stop.

How do you make the rain stop?

How do you make the anger and the jealousy stop?

Make these feelings of inadequacy and loss stop?

How do you make the hate stop?

How do I make my heart stop hurting?

It's like trying to control the wind.

Now imagine how I feel when these emotions, like the perfect storm, all come together into one, when I am looking at the pregnant belly of a friend or family member.

I hate them.

And I hate that I can't help hating them.

But this is where I am now.

Caught somewhere between sunny skies and nasty weather.

Not where I hope to be in the future.

In the future I want to be basking in the sun with my baby.

In the future I want to be able to support you the way you support me.

I want to.

I really do.

But I'm not there yet.

And for that I truly apologize.

And I don't know if I will ever fully be able to embrace, celebrate and support you the way you do for me.

There will always probably be a pang.

A pang of jealously.

A pang of bitterness.

A pang of sorrow.

A pang of loathing?

This pang brewing beneath the surface like thunder on a clear day.

But hopefully someday it will just be a little manageable pang instead of a gaping open wound.

Maybe someday it will just be a tiny bit of turbulence instead flying into the eye of the storm.

You leave comments about how amazing I am and all I can think about is how amazing all of you are and how broken I am.

Although I am over the moon at the prospect of my adoption. The mere thought of the day I meet my baby fills my heart and soul with light and love.

My heart and soul are still fragile.

Even sometimes "well wishes" on my adoption from someone pregnant or someone with biological children brews up an uncontrollable "Fuck you!" in my head when my lips are saying "Thanks!"

And if you are reading this and wondering: "Was she thinking Fuck You when I told her Congratulation?" most likely not but I am not making any promises.

It comes and goes just like a storm.

But know I don't mean it.

Just like the skies don't mean any of the damage it might cause when it rains. I don't mean to feel the way I do when it's raining inside my heart.

So on those days when the storm rolls in, please forgive me my friends.

Know that your support helps me weather the storm.

It helps me embrace my sunny days.

Proud

I've always had this want.

This desire.

This need.

Deep within my soul I know that if I could ever bring this want, this desire, this need to fruition then I have done something amazing in this world.

I would know that I was a part of something bigger than myself.

I would maybe, just maybe feel proud of something I did and the rewards would be endless.

But not pride in an arrogant sort of manner but pride in its most humblest form.

I would be proud that I was able to embrace a life. Proud that I could open my heart and love in a manner close to God.

And the love.

This love in my heart.

It is love that is beyond measure.

A love so powerful that it fuels this want, this desire, this need within my soul.

And if I could share this love.

Give this love unconditionally, I would then know the pride.

A pride so strong.

A pride that only comes from the love you have for your child.

I have this love.

I have this desire, this want, this need to be a mother.

To look upon the face of my child and love unconditionally.

To look upon the face of my child and beam with pride.

I have taken many steps and missteps on my path to motherhood.

But this step...

This last step that I have taken brings me one day closer to my dream...

It is a giant step forward that I have now taken...

Because I know my child is finally on their way home to me.

It may take time but each day brings me closer to the day I meet my child.

And taking this step.

Moving forward towards that day...

That makes me proud.

God's Plan

Courtesy of Google Images

I have never been one to claim complete faith. I have freely admitted that I walk on the edge of cynicism.

I am a work in progress.

I have a lot of "logical" thoughts that take away from that feeling of "blind faith".

But I am trying.

Trying to have the faith and silence the questions.

And there are so many things that I question:

Can you really find salvation by drinking that little cup of juice that represents the blood of Christ?

Are all your sins really forgiven?

How could Moses part a sea?

Was it a sandbar?

Could one man really make an Ark by hand that Elephants could walk on and it still float?

And if Jesus really did do all of those amazing things, how did he do them?

Could he have actually just been the world's very 1st magician?

I am sure that if I lived in those days I would be looking for the string or the sleight of hand.

And of course more importantly I question the more serious issues of the horrors in the world and how they can exists.

For those of you screaming "blasphemy" at me as you read this, I did say that I am trying.

I go to church every Sunday and although at times I may have inappropriate thoughts, I am trying to find the undeniable faith that leads people to make such comments like:

"It was meant to be"

"Everything happens for a reason"

"You will be shown the way"

"God has a plan for you"

And I try to have the faith that will lead me through this dark time in my life.

The faith to know that this is only temporary and that "God's plan" is one of beauty.

But I struggle.

I struggle with the fact that every day I cry.

I struggle with the fact the I have to face this all alone.

No one there beside me to hold my hand, comfort me or wipe the tears from my cheek.

Every day I live with such an unbearable ache in my heart and I wonder what could that plan possibly be?

If God's plan is that I be alone and have no family it is working out perfectly.

But I do know this... if it wasn't for my Infertility I would have never stepped foot back into a church. Well, except for weddings and funerals.

I walked into my church about 1 month after being told that I had: "A practically zero percent chance of conceiving a child..."

I remember telling the doctor: "You're wrong."

I remember biting my lip, holding my head up high, walking out past the receptionists with the pity stares and making my way to my car.

I remember getting into my car putting the keys in the ignition and then I remember I started to hyperventilate.

I was crying so hard I couldn't catch my breath.

The sobs were loud and frequent and uncontrollable.

I tried to compose myself and started the car.

Through vision blurred by tears and bouts of uncontrollable sobs I somehow made it home.

After that I don't really remember every day or each thought.

I remember endless nights of crying myself to sleep and I remember a strong resolve coming over me to prove them wrong.

And that strong resolve I guess was really a glimmer of faith in disguise.

About a month later I found myself walking into church.

"Believe in me because I don't believe in anything and I want to be someone to believe" ~ Counting Crows

I remember after I had been going to church for a couple of months, I was at my "bestest" childhood friend M2's house and she was saying to me: "Well you must be looking for something if all the sudden you are going to church."

Your damn right I am.

I am looking for something.

Answers?

Faith?

Hope?

That allusive fucking reason?

So when I was at fellowship after church the other day and one of the members came up to me and said: "God has a plan for you."

I can't help but wonder what that plan is?

I can't help but wonder if I hadn't made the choices I made when I was younger. If I instead pursued motherhood in my 20's or 30's would that have ruined God's plan or would something have happened and I would be in the same exact place I am today even if I "played" it differently.

And what if God's plan isn't remotely what I've planned?

Do I then just live in misery trying to move forward with my plan but continually stuck because of God's plan?

What if God's plan doesn't include me being a mother?

Than I can no longer be a part of that plan.

I will not accept that fate.

What's the plan then?

Where's the faith?

And what is the fucking reason!

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for ~ U2

As I sat in church today celebrating Palm Sunday I still have my questions and yes I am still looking for something...

Could one man really make an Ark by hand that Elephants could walk on and it still float?

Hey, they made the pyramids...

Did Moses really part a sea?

Maybe my sandbar theory is correct.

But isn't it just as miraculous that they got to the sea at low tide, just in time to cross over and by the time their pursuant got there high tide came rolling in washing away the sandbar?

So there is a little part of me that might say:

Maybe this was part God's plan to find a way to get me back into church or to strengthen my faith.

But really right now in order to keep moving forward God...I could really use a sandbar.