Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, writing that last post made me feel worse rather than better. I am used to some relief upon truth telling, as if somehow by sharing the story, by sharing my truth, I am able to both express where I am, and possibly reveal something that makes someone out there feel less alone.
Today is different. Since I hit *post*, I have felt uneasy. Not as if I have not told my truth, but as if by telling it I was making it more solid, more sticky maybe.
I am not taking it down, but I wanted to say this part too-- sometimes the tender underbelly confessions are more tender than they first appear, or maybe they are bigger than expected since they are actually attached to other sticky things.
I'll be meditating on this, since it feels as if there are unexamined hooks in this for me, perhaps other untaken roads, or options that are no longer options, or simply (or not at all simply) facing some of the collateral damage that comes with aging.
Wisdom? BRING IT
Options falling away since I've literally run out of time? SUCKS ROCKS
Not sure what all the elements are, not sure I will ever know all of them, but there are more messages in this for me and it (and I) deserve some time to feel my way around this.
5 comments:
Oh my friend, I am sorry. Thinking of you, and wishing this was easier.
I absolutely know where you're coming from, though I've a few years to go before 45. Still, this final frozen embryo is it for us, and after that I have no hope for a second, when all around me are pregnant or have a second.
Be gentle to yourself.
Wishing you peace. When we had an unexpected natural pregnancy while I was still nursing (ended in loss) it was like something changed inside me. Where I thought that I'd come to terms with the fact that my husband is DONE it re-opened the sadness and the loss again. Not that I'm not still delighted in having our girls, but just that loss of the idea of another when our two are just so delightful. My heart aches for you and I wish that you find some wonderful way to honor that ache and know that you aren't alone.
I think the sense of not having had the options or chances that non-IF people get to enjoy (or be naively unaware of) never goes away. And people can't tell by looking at our children what we went through to make them, so they assume it was easy and romantic. And if it had been, then of course we'd want another. Of course, too, if we wanted another then there would be another because it's within our control.
Long hug to you, Kate.
Hi Kate,
Reading your post really moved me and was very timely. My sister asked me the other day if I would like a 'blessingway' in preparation for our adoption and I said I'd think about it but in fact it brought up all the ideas we'd talked about years ago: a belly cast, totems from other mothers for labour, welcoming the incoming soul etc. It brought up a bunch of stuff. And then, with a pinpoint of clarity, I suddenly thought 'this might be it'. Whatever this blessingway turns out to be (and I know we can create something magical to mark a different route into motherhood), it might be my only one!! That made me realise that in the back of my mind, I'd sort of still thought that I might - or even, probably might - fall pregnant some day in the future. And then I thought, holy sheeeeeeet, what if I don't???!!!! It brought me up against all the stuff you wrote about in your blog, a kind of guilt for not being 'grateful enough' for the beautiful gift we are about to receive in the form of our adopted son, and a slow realisation that there is always, will always be, this grief. And that's okay. We muddle through and sometimes it feels sharp and pointy, like in your post and when people ask you about further kids, and sometimes it feels AOK. So, I just wanted to say I'm thinking of you and I get completely where you're coming from... I remember watching that 'Raising Arizona' film years ago and finding myself in floods because the couple had a table with loads of grandkids and extended family sitting round it at the end and one of the things we women in this boat have to let go of is part of that dream, the rambling family. So, hold on to what's precious, soothe your heart and know that there are many of us who understand xxxxx
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