I think I’m starting to feel a sort of acceptance of this from a religious standpoint. I was having trouble feeling like, IF we make more than 3 embryos, and IF the biologist needs to pick which ones are returned and which are frozen (because those that are frozen have much less chance of survival), then this is like giving the power of God to a man. I wasn’t feeling good about that at all. But then came Gordon – and he reaches me like nobody else can – and he said, how do you know it’s not God’s hand that is guiding the biologist? That put it in perspective for me – God’s hand is in everything, and will be in this too. He will make happen whatever should happen, and whoever he chooses to bless us with will come to us – now, through IVF, and again later with frozen embryos if we have any. I can hear my mom saying, ‘let go and let God’. she said it tongue in cheek to mock those that were ‘holier than thous’ but she meant it in a non holier-than-thou kind of way. We understood each other that way.
I try to push away the negative thoughts that come with this, and remembering what happened when I was a baby myself. How I cried in such desparation, wanting so much to keep that life inside me, even though I didn’t understand the repercussions of that kind of decision. I know my parents did the best thing for me. I still feel that ache, though, of losing that child. I am still crying in desparation – I suppose I never stopped. For a long while I convinced myself I didn’t want kids. It was easier that way, I guess, and I could stuff those feelings and memories in a dark corner of my mind and not have any reason to think about them again. Besides, who would I really want to have a family with? Until Gordon came, I never felt that desire that I always heard about other women feeling…that clock ticking, that pull towards motherhood, that feeling that some part of you is missing because your child(ren) havent joined you on this earth yet. Really, to think of a life that combines me and Gordon is just…beautiful.
There are so many ways that we’re not ready for a baby(ies). The house and our lack of a network of family and friends to help. We are quite alone there, and that scares me.
We’ve tried so hard, done everything right, measured, counted, been poked, prodded and turned inside out. I pray with all that I have that this works and we are joined with our miracle(s). My heart aches for it. If it doesn’t come to be, I don’t know how I will handle it. I know that without Gordon, I likely wouldn’t feel like carrying on. Even with him, I know there would be some moments when I wouldn’t be sure how (or more likely, why) I would.
I’m going to save those unwritten what-if words unwritten, because I really don’t want to consider the possibility that it may come to that, even though logically I know it may. I need to stay positive, I want to stay positive, and I do feel positive that this will come to be. It’s a little scary feeling positive, because you leave yourself open to disappointment. This time, though, I’m willing to risk it – because that positive thought may make all the difference.
This morning we woke up around 5am – our internal clocks are all kinds of messed up. We stepped out on the back terrace to enjoy a little cool air, and a beautiful beginning of a sunrise. A quiet morning on a back street in the suburbs (?) of Belgrade…no one around except…except? Except an old man, scuffling down the street pressed gently down on his cane with every other footstep, and a bounce in his step having the chance to see another new day. He wore a pale pink robe, or so it looked to me through sleepy eyes, and likely nothing else. Shuffling along the road next to the goat-trodden median to the magical natural spring just down the street. A spring that lives right off the main 2-way road that brings traffic through this somewhat large town from Belgrade, and isn’t very far off from the rain sewer.
Strange place…but oh, so loveable.