i thought the crying would stop.

not so much.

yesterday, i attended one of the first kiddy birthdays since we won the greatest lottery. you know how you steel yourself before birthday parties for kids. especially toddlers? because what you want more than anything in the world is to be having one for your long waited child?

and so when you're there you start to tear up, and so you excuse yourself to go to the restroom. where you sit there. not having to pee. trying not to cry. so you think of happy thoughts. but it's hard. because you want a baby. and you don't have one. so what the heck is so happy in your life? really nothing.

by this time, you've sat there so long that you're afraid people think your doing something that's not very guest like. and taking up a much needed bathroom. after all there are kids around.

so there i was. at his well planned and joyous birthday party. what got to me. what really got to me, was this story teller that they had. she was amazing. she had all toddlers up on their feet dancing and singing. i wanted to join them. ; )

but it made me sad. and quiet and pensive. because i realized that we would be doing the same in a matter of months. achieving what i long thought was unachievable. a joy i would never know. and even worse a joy i could never give my husband.

it hurt. i don't know that it was sadness. maybe. for what we've been through.

but then. but then. i saw the cutest little girl. who was about the age cate will be next year. with brown hair like mine. and hazel eyes like mine. being held by her father. like cate will be next year.

it made me realize how far we've come. how happy we are. how all of you deserve this too. how so many of you are where i was only six months ago. how sad we were. how happy we will be.

and so i fudged a bit. and left thirty minutes earlier than i planned. to give me time to cry in the car. and give my red eyes time to recover. to once again hide an unknowable sadness. or a joy that honestly, no one, who hasn't experienced and then overcome infertility. every pregnancy is a joy. and a miracle. but there is no greater miracle than a pregnancy after you were told there would be no such joy. without thousands of dollars in strange men doing what should have only happened in your bedroom.

i thought that i was over infertility for the most part. the journey honestly seems shorter.

but as i sit here i am teary eyed. and so i know that o am not over it. though we are happy. oh.so happy. and in five years i wonder if i will be so tender on such occasions. i hope not.

and hope is all we ever have, right?

Comments

[Elizabeth]

Yes, I know what you mean. I hope this feeling lessens over time.

[christina (apronstrings)]

you guys are right. and it HAS gotten easier. i am jsut ticked that none of us can ever seem to escape. you know?

[Emily]

Hope truly IS all we have but it is such a powerful force. I don't know that it ever gets easier but not living with that veil over your head isn't necessarily a bad thing...

[kate]

That was a very sweet post. I've had to handle myself tearing up in public (different reasons) and it's just never easy. Here's to hoping that time can heal all of our wounds, right?

[Nicole]

I always think that I am over the tragedy and struggles of miscarriage and infertility and then it sneaks up on me. But by not being "over it" I appreciate my current state that much more.

[Emily]

This was a beautiful post, Christina. Thanks for sharing that moment with us. Big HUGS to you!

[Janimal]

I'm with you on this one. I still get green-eyed when I see the other round bellies at the OB's office, then I look down and see my own. I'm a fertile infertile. I get self-conscious out sometimes when I wonder if other infertile women see me and feel that familiar pain. I think I have "survivor's guilt". IVF worked for me, but it hasn't worked for so many others. Including awesome women we both know. Why me? How did I get so lucky? I am so incredibly grateful, but also still so connected to those awful feelings of being infertile in a fertile world.
Infertility is a part of us.

[My Reality]

I hope for you.

I don't know if the pain ever goes away completely.

[jesspond]

But you know the problem with hope. Har! Har har!

No, I kid. Sort of.

You know, I look at it like this. I still feel sad sometimes. Not for myself, but for other people still struggling. For those still hoping. But I KNOW. You know? I KNOW that it's made me better, more aware. Of the joys, too.

It's hard to be truly appreciative and joyful if you've never known sadness. And that's not something I want to forget. :)

[Hilary (The Trying Game)]

What a great post my lovely, darling Christina.