I spent a few minutes peeking back at my blogs - something I never, ever do. I have all my posts printed out and stuck in a journal for perusing ONE DAY, but for some reason I just can't bring myself to spend much time looking back.
As my birthday approaches, though, I couldn't help but take a little time to walk down memory lane, and see where I was a year ago - two years ago - three years ago, and (gulp) four years ago. Dang, I've been blogging for a long time!
On April 1, 2007 : I can continue to live my life from a place of resenting what I don’t have and letting it cloud and taint and define everything else or . . . in the face of infertility, I can try really hard to remember that the struggle to have a baby is only one part of what is a really blessed and sweet life - a life that I don’t want to miss a moment of, whether we become parents or not. Because after all, my most heartfelt prayer has already been answered. His name is D.
On April 1, 2008 : What a beautiful day I have for spending my very last day in my 30’s. After a night of thunder, the sun is shining and the dogwoods are in bloom. I do so love April in the South. I’ve been a little bit out of sorts the past few days – nothing too dramatic, just quiet and “in my head” more than usual. I suppose it’s natural as you approach such a big birthday to take stock of your life, where you are and where you’re going. Forty has always been my “drop dead” date for getting pregnant. Yes, I realize that women in their forties have perfectly healthy babies every day, but for me this is the age where the risk of complications starts to outweigh my desire to have a biological child. So, I honestly expected that as this milestone crept closer, my sadness about not having a biological child would probably crescendo. Yeah . . . not so much. I even TRIED to get worked up about it. It’s just not there. Now, I haven’t deluded myself into thinking that there won’t be “why not me” moments in the future; that I won’t feel a twinge sometimes when I see a new mom and her little one, but I think I am actually starting to make peace with my infertility. That being said, I want to be a mom. Now. Right now. Immediately. If not sooner. The days are passing so quickly. Days and weeks and holidays and time we could be together. My maternal instinct is just screaming out for a child to love. However, my maternal instinct might as well pipe down because there’s no progress on that front. The thing I keep trying to remind myself is that there is nothing I can do. I’m not in control of any of this. Instead, I have to believe that there is someone out there much greater than myself who is leading us towards our child, whether it’s that little boy or not, and that someday I’ll look back and see that it all unfolded exactly as it should have.Then I have to remind myself of the exact same thing five minutes later. And again eight minutes after that. **TOMORROW I AM FORTY! WHERE IS MY CHILD?!?!?!**
On April 1, 2009 : My birthday is tomorrow – the big 4-1, and I usually use that occasion to take stock of my life – where I am and where I still want to go, if I’m making the “right” decisions, what I want my next year to look like. And I have to say, I’m happy. Really and truly happy. Of course there are things I would change. I would lose a dress size or ten.I would be working on the novel floating around in my head. I would probably have a little one running around our home. Yes, I said “probably” because there are moments when D and I aren’t sure if we reeeeeeeally want a child in our home. It sounds ridiculous to say, given how much we love kids and how hard we’ve had to fight to get licensed as adoptive parents. (Still aren’t there yet!!!) Simply put, we love our life together and we had a very small taste of what it was like to add another person to our mix. Now granted, there were TWO people and they arrived on short notice, heavily caffeinated and sugared-up, to a house that wasn’t nearly as child-proofed as we’d thought. So the first afternoon/evening was a bit harried. Okay, more than a bit. But I think our time with the kids was a pretty good representation of what we can expect as full-time parents, and there were parts of it we simply didn’t like. Most importantly, D & I didn’t get to spend much time together. We’d wake up and after a few minutes of snuggling and watching the morning news, for me it was all about the kids – getting them up and dressed and filling their little tummies as D got ready for work. D would come home in the afternoon and by that time, I was ready for a break and would scurry into the bedroom to stretch out for a few minutes, or into the computer room, shutting the door and catching up on the outside world. At night, we crawled into bed and laid there watching TV, somewhat shell-shocked and exhausted, waiting for sleep to take us. We were ships that passed in the night. Of course, I know we’d get “better” at the rhythm of caring for kids (errrrr . . . ONE child. Only one.), and would then have more time to connect with each other. We just want to make sure that we never do anything to disrupt or damage our marriage. It’s the number one priority for both of us. So that’s the source of our hesitation. That being said, we both miss the kids and talk fondly about them all the time. If their foster parents called us today and said, "We can no longer care for them", we'd take them in a heartbeat. I guess maybe it’s just hard to be committed in every moment to bringing a “mystery child” into our home. We know nothing about him or her – age, race, sex, situation, likes and dislikes, behavior, etc . . . I think once we have a little face in our minds, and our hearts, our hesitation will fade into the background and we’ll hit the ground running and find a way to make it work. But the comforting thing is, if for whatever reason it never happens, we will spend happy lives together feeling blessed every day that we found each other. I already have my birthday gift. I get to live my life with a wonderful man. Happy (almost) Birthday to me.
April 1, 2010 : no post (I was hiding and mourning the loss of a foster/adoptive placement.)
April 1, 2011 : This morning I look like a homeless person. My hair is wild and crazy and has yet to see a brush. I still have on my nightgown, though I did have the decency to throw on a pair of shorts with it. I have pulled one April fool's prank - the old "Oh-my-gosh-kids-we-overslept-and-school-has-already-started-hurry-hurry-hurry-gag." I made breakfast and packed snacks. I tamed two serious cases of bedhead. I listened to exciting plans for my birthday which involve two children hiding and jumping out and yelling "SURPRISE!" I wrote a check for tee-ball pictures. I found my caramel corn recipe which I will be making for the school bake sale next week. I straightened a bookcase for the fifth time this week. (Why do children have no concept of how to put books back into a bookcase properly? No matter how many times you show them? And why does that have to be one of my pet peeves? Why, oh why?) I have vacuumed the house, carefully avoiding eleventy thousand teeny tiny Lego pieces. I have laid out a cheerleading uniform and a baseball uniform for tomorrow's festivities. I have wiped toothpaste off of the sink for the 75th day in a row. I have sealed up a letter and photos to be sent to two loving bio. grandparents.
My life looks so very changed than it did even a year ago. I have different worries and new joys. I have new priorities and different frustrations. I have more laughter and more tears. I have a husband who I love beyond all measure, and, strangely enough, I have two children - not mine officially yet, but they are mine forever in my heart.
Happy almost birthday to me.
