If each petal on a flower were a dream, hope, or belief of how my life would go, then I have lost many. Some were just a part of growing up, and others the result of the cards my life has dealt me. This journey has me sitting and plucking petals. Making sweet love to my husband and creating a child together…using an ovulation induction medication to create new life…being inseminated at my doctor’s office to procreate…and most recently braving the waters of IVF. All petals that made their way to the base of the flower.
While I still believe that the flower remains fragrant and beautiful, it’s missing some of what it used to have. That’s me right now. I guess I just need to know where to buy some M.iracle G.row, right?
The words of two kept dancing through my sleepless mind last night, “But you have Lucky. He’s beautiful and he calls you mom.” So true. Yet, he is not a magical healer. He doesn’t erase the fact that I, at the ripe old age of 28, have to look in the mirror and know that I am barren. I am sterile. I cannot create life. That’s a very large pill to swallow. It’s not that I don’t appreciate my circumstance with Lucky beyond measure. I’m thankful for him every day. This is more of an image readjustmant of myself. It feels final. Concrete. Odd. This doesn’t mean it is the end of our journey. No. This is just a huge blow personally.
What gets me by right now is having amazing family and friends. My mother fielded all my phone calls yesterday, and called those who needed to know. My husband and I sat cross legged on the floor of the bedroom, and I said, “It’s just a bit weird knowing that this will be your biological child, but not technically mine. It’s not bad at all. It’s just different.” To which he sweetly responded, “We could use a sperm donor. I don’t care.” It made me smile, because I knew he was serious. I love that man. It’s moments like these that seperate the boys from the men. Of course we wouldn’t use a sperm donor when his gametes work just fine. It was a beautiful offer though.
So, now I have this need to make my house beautiful. I didn’t think I would be moving back into it. However, now there is no need for more space. Another child is far off on our calendar (think a year, due to waiting lists.) I’m trying to not view it as going back with our tails between our legs. I keep telling myself this is good, because then the market will pick up! I have the burning desire to make the place special. To reinvent it. Perhaps this runs deeper. I’m not sure.
