Just Thinking

Once again we are coming up on the holiday season, and I just cannot bring myself into the light of it all. I always feel like the oddball--beside that my heart just isn't in it.

I was looking through the comments, and I found one about adoption. We have gone through so much--and have considered adoption. We even went to fostering classes, we did not get very far because of my husband's past--divorce issues. He did not have a very nice ex-wife and she loved to call the police on him. Even though all charges were dropped and he has not had anything more than a parking ticket in 10 years they still would not allow us to go through the county to even foster.

Researching adoption has been a trying experience for me. My husband has excellent benefits for domestic and foreign adoption. We would get 10,000 of our monies returned to us through his benefit plan, but we just don't have that kind of money. We have also looked into embryo adoption, but once again we were stumped before we even got out of the gate.

It is so hard for me, for my heart--for the mother in me to accept that we have no viable options. It is hard enough that we can't foster but to think that we can't even adopt embryos is just painful.

What gets me into trouble is that I think on things. I spend hours at night Googling everything that I can--to no avail. I feel like maybe if there were something that I could do I would feel better. Everyone wants money--which I hate to say is in high demand but in short supply.

I feel like every door has been slammed our faces, and there is nothing that we can do about it. I feel like the mother in me is longing--weeping--seeking children that will never be. I feel trapped in that hollow place in my heart--where all the love I have to offer is left to wither and die in the shriveling place that was meant for my children to grow.

My empty womb feels like an open wound, a constant reminder of how dark a place it is with nothing to shelter in it's welcoming secret darkness. Nothing but a monthy pain to remind me of how unworthy I am to carry my own offspring. To revel in the small joys of pregnancy. To tear up with the expectancy--to know a heartbeat besides my own.

Punishment is many different things to different people. This is true punishment, of mind, body, and soul. The kind of deep suffering that lingers long after the hopes and wishes have been stolen away. Long after the heart has settled into the constant state of grief--and the soul aches even when you know that it is over. Some punishment is deep and lasting--painful beyond words without outward scars of proof.

I was just thinking--how happy I can be for others, yet so sad for myself. I joy in the birth of a new baby as if it were my own--but I am careful to keep my distance. Afraid that I may say something or hold the child for too long.

I remember the first time that I ever saw a baby born. It was just after my first loss. There was a young lady that I worked with and she did not have anyone else. I went--stayed with her walked with her and comforted her. I tear up everytime that I think about that day. It is as if it were just yesterday. When the baby was born. I cried, not like someone who has witnessed a miracle, but like someone who has lost a miracle. I remember the nurse looking at me and seeing the hurt. I don't think that anyone had to that point. She swaddled that sweet little girl up and put her in my arms. I could not speak or think or barely breathe, it was such a gift to hold her before her own mother did and something that I will never forget. I so wanted that for myself. Coming to terms with never having such an awesome experience will never happen, but I am so glad that it does for others. Even through my hurt and suffering I would never wish on another the lack of children.

That was in Feb of 96, in Aug of that same year I helped my sister deliver her first and held him before she did as well--but there is nothing like walking out of a hospital room with the sweet smell of a newborn in your mind, and empty arms. It affects everything in your life. I have done it for all of my sisters. I have loved--and still love their children but my life is different, and I cannot change that.