Sunday, April 22, 2012
A Letter to my Friends and Sunny Days...
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.