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.