I had a dream the other night. To go into all the details would be confusing as I would need to explain real life events that had an obvious influence on my subconscious. Instead, I'll cut to the chase and share with you a portion that was neither beginning nor end. Instead, somewhere in the middle of it all...I found myself standing outdoors with a playground to my right and a road that stretched out before me to my left. The playground was empty... silent. The road eventually disappeared into the rise and curves of a distant mountain pass. A man following that road walked by me, a look of absolute peace upon his face. He had only gone a few steps ahead when he stopped, turned around and spoke to me. He said, "Do you yearn?" Before I could even answer this question, he said, "Of course you yearn."
When I woke up in the wee hours of night, the question and statement continued to whisper in my mind. It should come as no small surprise that one of the first things I did after my alarm finally called me out of bed was to look-up the definition for "yearn." According to the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary, it means "to long persistently, wistfully, or sadly." Just as the man in my dream said, "Of course I yearn."
The playground I saw was empty just as all things children in my Husband's and my life is empty. However, we have trained ourselves to not notice the emptiness by means of redefining the word... things are not so much "empty" as they are "saved and waiting." Adoption, after all, should be just around the corner if we can wait a few more months, maybe years. As long as our daily lives go on with little to no reminders to that hollowness inside then we can actually fool ourselves into not noticing. Life is good, work is completed, meals are cooked, there are plenty of family and friends to keep in contact with... no problem. So what happens when "empty" catches up with us... when it catches up with me? Just such an event happened today.
It was my sister-in-law's college graduation and everyone was feeling great! Numerous supporters came out to cheer her on including some very dear and close friends of the family. These are the kind of friends who have been around for so long that, biology aside, they are family too. One member brought her five week old son. Grandma saw to it that I hold him first thing. I was actually okay with this... I mean, how often do I get to hold such a small and fragile being in my arms? I did have to suppress the thought, "Everyone is watching... the infertile woman is holding a baby," but that is par for the course these days. When it was my Husband's turn to hold the baby... WOW, it made my heart skip a beat. He looked so natural. The image fit.
After the graduation ceremony, the whole group of us continued celebrating by going to dinner at the Red Lobster. I was doing so well, feeling strong, in control and then WHAM... I didn't see it coming. Control had been an illusion. One of the other friend/family members shared quietly that she was pregnant and due in the Spring. The room became too hot, my eyes burned with my effort to hold back tears, my chest was tight and I couldn't hold still. I was literally trapped in a corner with no escape that wouldn't draw attention to me. I downed three glasses of ice cold water in an attempt to hold back the tide of emotion. I finally had to excuse myself and act like my trip to the bathroom was as normal as any other trip to the lady's room would be. I barely made it to the door when the tears began to fall. This was not good. My eyes would get blotchy and I didn't have but a minute or two to pull myself together before anyone got suspicious. I fought the urge to head out the front door of the restaurant and run... nowhere in particular, just run.
I did make it back to the table and though a few concerned eyes were drawn my way by those who know me too well, I eventually calmed down. Ironically, the distraction was the baby. It was suddenly decided, by who I'm not sure, that I should again hold him and hold him I did. This worked out great for me because I was able to keep my full attention on him, thus avoiding eye contact with the adults who would have seen through my transparent mask. Minutes went by, my temperature and breathing returned to normal... the episode passed. Even though it was replaced with exhaustion and a headache, I much preferred that silent battle to the one that would have only brought everyone else down. In the end, we said our goodbyes and headed for home. Needing time alone, I disappeared into my private thoughts with the hope that I would be allowed to stay there just a little while without interruption. Though I never expressed this request out loud, it was somehow understood. During these times I both desire and loathe how very alone I feel.
I wonder, "Will this battle ever end?"
When I woke up in the wee hours of night, the question and statement continued to whisper in my mind. It should come as no small surprise that one of the first things I did after my alarm finally called me out of bed was to look-up the definition for "yearn." According to the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary, it means "to long persistently, wistfully, or sadly." Just as the man in my dream said, "Of course I yearn."
The playground I saw was empty just as all things children in my Husband's and my life is empty. However, we have trained ourselves to not notice the emptiness by means of redefining the word... things are not so much "empty" as they are "saved and waiting." Adoption, after all, should be just around the corner if we can wait a few more months, maybe years. As long as our daily lives go on with little to no reminders to that hollowness inside then we can actually fool ourselves into not noticing. Life is good, work is completed, meals are cooked, there are plenty of family and friends to keep in contact with... no problem. So what happens when "empty" catches up with us... when it catches up with me? Just such an event happened today.
It was my sister-in-law's college graduation and everyone was feeling great! Numerous supporters came out to cheer her on including some very dear and close friends of the family. These are the kind of friends who have been around for so long that, biology aside, they are family too. One member brought her five week old son. Grandma saw to it that I hold him first thing. I was actually okay with this... I mean, how often do I get to hold such a small and fragile being in my arms? I did have to suppress the thought, "Everyone is watching... the infertile woman is holding a baby," but that is par for the course these days. When it was my Husband's turn to hold the baby... WOW, it made my heart skip a beat. He looked so natural. The image fit.
After the graduation ceremony, the whole group of us continued celebrating by going to dinner at the Red Lobster. I was doing so well, feeling strong, in control and then WHAM... I didn't see it coming. Control had been an illusion. One of the other friend/family members shared quietly that she was pregnant and due in the Spring. The room became too hot, my eyes burned with my effort to hold back tears, my chest was tight and I couldn't hold still. I was literally trapped in a corner with no escape that wouldn't draw attention to me. I downed three glasses of ice cold water in an attempt to hold back the tide of emotion. I finally had to excuse myself and act like my trip to the bathroom was as normal as any other trip to the lady's room would be. I barely made it to the door when the tears began to fall. This was not good. My eyes would get blotchy and I didn't have but a minute or two to pull myself together before anyone got suspicious. I fought the urge to head out the front door of the restaurant and run... nowhere in particular, just run.
I did make it back to the table and though a few concerned eyes were drawn my way by those who know me too well, I eventually calmed down. Ironically, the distraction was the baby. It was suddenly decided, by who I'm not sure, that I should again hold him and hold him I did. This worked out great for me because I was able to keep my full attention on him, thus avoiding eye contact with the adults who would have seen through my transparent mask. Minutes went by, my temperature and breathing returned to normal... the episode passed. Even though it was replaced with exhaustion and a headache, I much preferred that silent battle to the one that would have only brought everyone else down. In the end, we said our goodbyes and headed for home. Needing time alone, I disappeared into my private thoughts with the hope that I would be allowed to stay there just a little while without interruption. Though I never expressed this request out loud, it was somehow understood. During these times I both desire and loathe how very alone I feel.
I wonder, "Will this battle ever end?"
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