One Day, It Won’t Matter

I had therapy this afternoon.

I made the appointment two weeks ago, but it kind of worked out perfectly.

Because I needed it today.

I spent most of the day on a roller coaster of emotions. Bouncing between tears, and pitiful attempts to regain hope. Even studying those pregnancy tests again after several of you said you saw second lines.

For whatever it’s worth, I have torn those things apart and shined flashlights underneath them – there is no second line. I’m not sure what it is you all were seeing, but it’s not a second line.

I’m heartbroken and definitely a little down right now. I ate a turkey sandwich today out of spite. Because why should I be worrying about listeria if I’m not even pregnant?

I don’t even like turkey. This was a ridiculous move on my part.

And immediately after, I regretted it. Wished that I hadn’t eaten that sandwich, because what if? What if I am pregnant, and I just exposed my baby to something that could make it sick? What if in my bitter moment, I actually caused my worst fear to occur?

What if whatever happens next is all my fault?

This is where my head has been today. A back and forth of emotions so over the top that I’m almost ashamed to admit it’s me who has become so unstable. And given the fact that it’s barely past 5 right now and all I can think about is going to bed… I would wager that I’m a little depressed too.

Today has simply exhausted me.

The not knowing has exhausted me.

I’m trying though. Trying to hold out hope for tomorrow, and trying to remind myself that no matter what; everything is going to be OK.

That one day, none of this will matter.

Because as several of you pointed out in my comments this morning; I am going to be a mother no matter what.

That much is a given.

A non-negotiable.

I am going to be a mother. And one day, it won’t matter how I got there. It will simply matter that I am there, with my child in my arms.

One day, it won’t matter.

I’ve been attempting to drill that in my head all day, but I have to be honest; there is a piece that isn’t adding up for me.

Several of you mentioned surrogacy, and the truth is that surrogacy really isn’t something I’d ever be interested in. I’ve never cared even one ounce about having a biological child. The biology is not the part I yearn for, it’s the pregnancy. The ability to bond with a child from conception and nurture them with my own body. The opportunity to feel them growing inside of me and to love them before they are ever even real.

Without that possibility, my journey through fertility treatments would end. Surrogacy is not something I would ever pursue.

But I have always known that I would likely adopt some day. I’ve even spoken about it here before. I know adoption is in my future.

I have to be honest though; adoption will not heal the wound of not being able to carry a child.

I know many adoptive mothers who love their children with all their hearts. Women who can honestly say that they are almost grateful for their infertility journeys now. That if it hadn’t been for those journeys, they never would have been led to their children.

And they love their children.

But it’s become my understanding that every single one of those women (at least those who were led to adoption after infertility) still aches a little when she spies a pregnant belly. That they still mourn the loss of that ability to nurture and carry a child safely inside of them.

No matter how far they have come in the healing and acceptance of their infertility, it seems to me that the ache remains.

And right now I am really struggling with the fact that I may just have that ache for the rest of my life as well. That I may join the ranks of women who find their children in a million different ways, and who love those children with all their hearts; but who forever carry around that ache of what was also lost.

I’m afraid of that ache

I know that one day, it won’t matter. How I became a mother won’t matter. The only thing that will hold any bearing at all will be the fact that I am a mother.

And I know that with time, even that ache will become less and less pronounced.

But right now the thought of it feels like a gaping hole in the middle of my chest. Like the kind of wound that I can’t possibly ever recover from, rather than what it is; a wound that will eventually scar over and heal. One that will likely still always bother me every once in a while, but that most days I won’t even notice.

Because one day, it won’t matter.

I’ve been thinking about that leak of mine a lot today. I think that leak, and everything surrounding it, was a lesson I was intentionally given. A reminder that sometimes, you have to deal with something crappy to get something great.

When I think about how hard I cried over that leak, and how sure I was that the mold it caused was the end of the end, I almost can’t help but laugh.

From that leak sprung a completely remodeled kitchen for next to nothing, a boy who totally gives me butterflies, and an invite to a Hollywood party that I never in a million years would have believed I would have been attending.

From that leak sprung happiness. Excitement. And opportunities I wouldn’t have had otherwise.

And I can’t help but feel like the timing of that leak was very intentional. That even though the pain from this cycle failing would far surpass any pain that leak could have incurred, the message is still the same.

Endure through the tragedy, because something wonderful is waiting for you at the end.

In my life, I have had amazing things come out of even my darkest of hours. I have received gifts and opportunities beyond my wildest dreams. I have been truly blessed.

But sometimes, in the midst of yet another struggle, I have a hard time remembering that. I have a hard time focusing on the good that has come in my life. I get weighed down by the bad.

I think that leak was pretty strategically placed so that I couldn’t forget that lesson right now though. So that no matter how hard I may fall over the next few days, there will be a strong reminder right there in my kitchen of the good that can always come from bad.

A reminder that I just need to be patient, because someday the blessings that will come out of even this situation will become clear.

One day, it won’t matter. It won’t matter how I got where I am or how I became a mother; it will simply matter that I am there.

And while I hope and pray that tomorrow I will get the news I have been pleading for, I’m trying to remind myself of the lesson my leak was meant to re-teach me as well.

Because it’s a lesson I already knew. A lesson I’ve always known.

But a lesson that I likely would have allowed to fade to the background otherwise.

For now though, I think I’m just going to bed. Realizing that it is far too early for me to even contemplate turning out the lights and passing out, but not really caring either.

Just wanting to get a good nights sleep, so that whatever tomorrow holds;

I’ll be rested. I’ll be ready.

As ready as I can possibly be.