Last night was a good night.
Mr. Fix-It was unfortunately not able to meet my friends, but everything panned out in the end.
I got some time with my nearest and dearest, and then I met up with him later in the evening.
The reason he hadn't been able to make it centered around an accident he had been involved in earlier in the day. Everyone is fine. He is fine. But it left him a little frustrated. A little frazzled. A little shaken.
And understandably so.
When life catches you off guard like that, it's always a little hard to take in.
I'd like to think that I left him in a better mood this morning than I found him in last night. He seemed to have cheered up a bit. But his accident has had me thinking.
About how little control we have sometimes. How quickly everything can change.
When we least expect it to.
And then... Life keeps moving. It doesn't just stop because we want it to. Because we're frustrated and tired and overwhelmed.
Because we're ready to give up.
No. Life keeps moving.
And all we can do is try to keep up.
Two years ago, I had no idea the challenges I was about to face. I had no idea what my life was about to become.
What I was about to lose.
But life has kept on moving. As I have thrown everything I've got into fighting endometriosis and infertility; the world has continued to spin for everyone else.
A few weeks ago, I received an e-mail from a little girl I used to babysit for.
A little girl who is no longer a little girl.
She has graduated college, found herself a grown up job, gotten engaged, and is in the process of searching for her first real home.
This whole thing of course leaves me feeling incredibly (ridiculously, disturbingly, undeniably) old.
Decrepit even.
When did this little girl grow up? When had that happened?
I hadn’t seen her in years. She was probably 10 or 11 the last time I’d had any interaction with her at all.
And now she was reading my blog. Telling me in an e-mail that she was, in fact, “addicted” to it.
I had to suck in my breath and remind myself that she was an adult now. That I had never written anything that she, as an adult, shouldn’t be reading.
She was no longer a child. It was OK that she was reading my blog.
But still. I couldn’t reconcile the picture in my head of the little girl I had last seen over 10 years ago, and the grown woman with her life all laid out ahead of her e-mailing me now.
She had her life together! Far more than I did when I was her age!
Heck, I didn’t graduate college and get my first “real” job until I was 25. I didn’t buy my first home until 26. And I think it’s safe to say that I probably won’t be thinking about marriage before 28 rolls around.
Or 29 for that matter.
When I was in town for Thanksgiving, she and her parents came over for a visit. It was on what was arguably the one really bad day I had while there. The day when no matter how I tried, I simply could not stop the tears from coming. I’m sure I wasn’t much in the way of company.
But, I was in awe of her. This little girl who wasn’t so little anymore. This child who had totally blossomed into a grown woman. A grown woman who I had once been left in charge of caring for. A grown woman who is now getting married, while I am typically pleased if I can string out a relationship for more than a few weeks before my commitment issues kick in.
I couldn’t help but think about when they would start talking children. If it would be easy for them, or if they would struggle (as I now know so many couples do).
I wondered if they would have babies before I’m even able to figure out what comes next.
I wondered if she would pass me by. This grown woman who I am still having a hard time convincing myself grew from the child I once pushed down the stairs in a cardboard box.
Don’t worry. There were no injuries. Not really anyway.
She had become beautiful though. And articulate. Warm and genuine.
And she had her whole future just getting ready to unwrap for her. A lifetime of excitement and memories waiting to unfold.
Meanwhile, I feel stuck. Stuck in the middle of a place I never thought I’d be. A spot I never truly saw myself.
Unable to grow, because the one thing I thought I wanted more than anything has been taken away from me.
And so, I’m stagnant. Wondering how many others will pass me by on this journey. How many friends and past acquaintances will accomplish the things on that timeline called life while I sit and wait.
Stuck at the goal I couldn’t fulfill.
And wondering how to get back on track.
But also fearful of the bellies in my future. The friends who were ready long after I was, but who still accomplished that goal with ease. The ones who weren’t even sure if they wanted children, until they had one growing inside of them.
How many times will I be passed by? And how will I keep it from stinging then, the way the mere thought of it stings me now.
It’s funny how life keeps moving, even when you don’t expect it to.
I feel stuck right now. Frozen in time. Unsure how to kick start the ignition.
But grossly aware that if I remain stagnant, everyone else is going to pass me by.
And that’s not what I want. That’s not how I want to live my life.
My heart is still breaking, and I am terrified of a life where I will never get this gift.
Where I will never grow a child beneath my heart.
I am terrified of a life where I will have to accept the hand I’ve been dealt, while watching everyone around me getting the one thing I wanted most.
But I don’t know what else to do but to keep moving. To keep planning. To keep hoping.
I don’t want to let time pass me by. To let life pass me by.
So I need to figure out how to keep moving forward. How to somehow get past this hurdle, even if it means bypassing it completely.
Even if it means checking it off the list of things I’ll never get to experience, and forcing myself to move on.
With a brave face and a fierce determination.
To keep moving. Keep changing. Keep fighting.
And keep seeking out happiness.
In whatever form I can find it.
For as long as it takes.
To forget this pain.
To move on.
To start over.
And to stop life from passing me by.
ADSPACE
