Waiting

It seems like I've always been waiting for something.  Counting down to my birthday or Christmas, waiting for summer break then waiting for school to start, sitting on the back of the couch watching and waiting for my dad to show up for visitation.  I build up so much anticipation and nothing goes as I saw it in my head.  Sometimes though, that is a good thing.

My latest anticipation was my nephew, Aden.  I just knew I'd be a complete mess over his arrival.  I'm proud to say that I wasn't.  Yeah, I had a few moments of sad and jealous.  The worst part was the drive to visit him.  Then we walked in that room and saw this perfect, tiny human.  It was absolute love at first sight.  How someone so tiny can make my heart feel like it is going to explode with love is just beyond belief.

And, yet, I am still waiting.  My months are broken down into 2 week blocks of time with a few days in between of sheer hope.  I check my signs, pee on sticks and wait patiently (haha! yeah right!) for those pretty red crosshairs that signal ovulation on my chart.  Then I wait for any little twinge or tickle that I can latch onto that might signal a baby in the making.  I pace.  I fret.  I get giddy with hope.  The 3 minutes after taking a pregnancy test drag on for days.  Stark white tests stare back at me and I wait for good old Aunt Flo to show up again.  Then, the cycle begins again.

All of this waiting, hoping, praying...just to feel that rush of love when I can, someday hopefully have my own tiny miracle. 

Joy and jealousy

I got word today that my nephew may be making his appearance soon.  I am so excited to meet him.  I knew his arrival would be a test for me, but I wasn't prepared for all of the emotions that coursed through my veins.   One more layer to work through, I suppose. 

She and I were supposed to complete this journey together.  We should have spent the past few weeks "racing" to the delivery room, comparing swollen feet and making sure our go-bags were well stocked.  Instead, she's having to face this without me.  She's amazingly strong and will come through this beautifully, of course.  I just wish we were doing it together.

I'm a little jealous that she'll have her baby in her arms and mine remain empty.  I'm a little bit scared mine will always be empty.  I'm a lot angry that my baby didn't get to live.  I'm a little sad, bitter and frustrated too.  But, I am also excited, proud and so very happy for them.  I keep hoping the joy will bubble closer to the surface.  I know it has a lot of crud to bubble through, but that little man deserves nothing but joy and love. 

Understanding

"You just don't understand!"  How many times has that been said?  I remember sobbing and hurling that phrase at my mother when she wouldn't allow me to do something.  That something was almost always a bad idea.  I can see that now.  At 13?  Not so much.  Of course my life was ending because I couldn't stay up half the night on the phone. 

As I've grown up, I still find myself hurling those words at people, usually the people I care about the most.  The thing is, I think most people do understand what I am saying.  They simply don't have the same emotions about those words as I do.

I've hurled them at my friends when they say things like "Everything happens for a reason" or "In God's time."  Of course they don't understand the grief and guilt I carry in my heart.  I really don't want them to understand it.  I don't want them to feel the pain and emptiness I feel.  I know they mean well and aren't trying to hurt me.  Who really does know what to say to comfort me?  I don't know what they could say that would comfort me.

I've hurled them at Bill when he tells me to have patience.  My frustration boils over and the words fly out of my mouth like arrows.   They strike their mark and I see the hurt in his eyes.  He does understand.  He tries so hard.  I repay him with verbal blows. 

Maybe I am the one who doesn't understand. 

Rain on the windshield

CD1.  A day for new beginnings, new plans and new hope.  At least that is how it should be.  Today feels much less "new box of crayons" and much more "rain on the windshield."  My last chance to be pregnant before my due date...gone.  My last chance to have a baby before 36...gone. 

I guess we are on to round two of Clomid.  I'm thankful I responded in round one, but I wish it would have resulted in two pink lines instead of cramps, tears and tampons.  This CD1 has hit me so much harder than the previous ones.  I'm not sure why, exactly.  Possibly it is the hope I allowed myself.  Perhaps it is all of the dreams of positive pee sticks.  Maybe it is simply the increased hormonal effects of Clomid.  Whatever it is, it sucks.  Bad. 

Here's hoping that I'll be celebrating both the birth of my nephew and the conception of my little firefly next month.  If the universe has any sense of fairness, I just might be.