All Questions. No Answers.

The Rolling Stones sing, “You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, well you might find, you get what you need.” So if I can’t get what I want, then can someone please tell me, just what it is that I need? Because in my book, they’re pretty much one and the same right now. Lately I find myself questioning my hope and belief systems. I mean, I’m not sure whom to turn to anymore when I do hope, or pray, or ask or plead. It seems like it doesn’t matter. Take yesterday for example; I went in for a blood test to find out if I’m pregnant (I’m not). And as I was walking from my car into the lab, I found myself thinking, “I’m not even sure who I should be asking this of, but please. PLEASE let this be positive.” And that just seems wrong. Shouldn’t I know where I’m putting my faith into? I’ve talked before about loss of hope, but now I’m questioning what does faith mean any more?

I used to think that my or Double A’s relatives who have passed on were up in heaven looking out for us. Protecting us. But have come to realize that while they may be looking down on us, they have no control or say in what happens to us. And I get that, I suppose. The thing is, the longer time goes on without any results on the baby front, it makes it harder to hope or believe when you don’t know if, or think, it matters.

I’m not trying to incite a religious battle here. And truthfully I do not want to hear advice that God’s out there, you just have to look harder. Or that he works in mysterious ways. Or that everything happens for a reason. If you believe that, that’s fine. I respect your thoughts and beliefs. What I am trying to do here is put down my thoughts and feelings (and perhaps my confusion and anger), with the hope that seeing them will provide some clarity for me.

There’s that word again, hope. I suppose I should be used to this term by now. As a lifelong Cubs fan, I’ve hoped for the past 38 years that THIS would be there year. And the thing is, at the start of each season, I REALLY believe it.* (*Except this year. While I think Theo & Co. will be good for the Cubbies in the long run, the short term is going to make for one long season.) I like to think that overall, I’m an optimistic person. I try to see the good in people and situations. It’s just that when you try and try and try, and are doing everything you’re supposed to do and beyond, and you still don’t get the results, well, that’s just not right. I won’t even let the word fair enter into the equation.

The road to baby is filled with wishing, wanting, hoping. And unfortunately for many of us, it’s also filled with waiting, crying and wondering. The start of each cycle brings with it a sadness of what didn’t happen and yet a fresh start to what could. It’s a constant whirlwind of conflicting emotions, not to mention raging hormones. We want to believe that this is the cycle. This is the one that’s going to work. Because when you continue trying, you have to believe that, otherwise why try?

So I’m stuck in a strange place. Since we are going to continue to try, there has to be hope, faith and belief. And yet, where that hope and faith and belief is going to be pulled from is unknown at this point. I think I’ve been pretty clear in past posts that I don’t like the unknown. I’ve been living in it for way to long now, and it doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t feel right. I suppose I just need to let go, and ride the waves as Double A tells me. It’s just that I like to steer.


They Didn’t Grow Back

Last year just after our fourth loss, my college roommates sent us a gorgeous pot filled with equally gorgeous flowers. Fragrant hyacinths and tulips in pink, blue and white brightened our living room, while trying to do the same for our spirits. And while it wasn’t successful on latter, the thought behind the flowers, and the idea that they will come back annually did bring a sense of relief to me.

So we carefully watered them throughout the season, clipped them down and stored them over the winter as we were told. Then, a few months ago, we pulled out the pot in preparation for the flowers to bloom again. And…we’re still waiting. Double A kept telling me that I shouldn’t get my hopes up. That if they didn’t come back, it has no meaning. No connection. I DO know this. But today it has been a year, and the flowers that were supposed to distract me have left me staring at dirt and wondering.

I thought I was past it, and yet here it is again, that overwhelming feeling that encapsulates my mind, my body, my soul. That squeezes my heart and makes me feel like I can’t breathe. And when I do catch a breath, the tears fall. Not just a trickle, but a full-on flood. Yes, grief and sorrow have raised their sneaky hands once again and have wrapped themselves around me giving me an all too tight, unwelcome hug.

Sure, I know it is to be expected on the first anniversary, and yet, I was taken by surprise to be brought back to that place again. I thought there would be sadness, and even some tears, but I was not expecting to be taken back to that overwhelming place. A year. How could that be, when it plays over in my head like it was just yesterday? Have we really spent the last 365 days trying to move forward, to find answers and continue our quest for baby?

Double A reminds me that just because the flowers didn’t come back this year, doesn’t mean that they won’t come back next. How’s that for a metaphor? Yes, it’s true: you can’t plan life. In fact, life doesn’t always play by our rules. But by that same notion, you don’t know that the thing that’s around the corner isn’t what you’ve been hoping for all along. And while I don’t know what I think about hope right now, I’d like to think that it’s still out there. And I’ll continue to look for it. But right now, here I sit, and I am sad. At least for today. And I’m going to allow it.