Still searching

The first month after our last cycle with the doc, I was relieved. I was actually elated to finally have a guilt free excuse to stop for a while. I needed to work on me. I don't like who I am becoming. I want better for us and for our future kids. Hubby seemed pretty relieved too. Gone were the strained relations and thermometer readings. We didn't have to have hope or disappointment while we paced anxiously awaiting af. It was a delicious freedom.

The end of school kept my mind and heart busy for a little while. I didn't have time to miss our kids. I was happy to crash on the couch with Hubby for a little uninterrupted television and some snuggling. We were great. We cautiously avoided the tender spots in our hearts and we each dealt with the pain our own way. I used resolve. I was absolutely adamant that I in no way wanted a child while I finished school. I told everyone that asked. I was very firm and knew it would be best for my children. Doing what was best for them shouldn't hurt that bad right? We know what we are doing is right. The path we chose is the only one we could choose if we had their best interests at heart. Right?

This week my grandfather has been in the hospital. My aunt didn't want her daughter to be stuck there with the scary reality that he is sick. She asked Hubby and I to keep her. She's eleven and she's a pretty cool kid. She's a lot like I was as a kid. We didn't hesitate to let her hang with us for a few days.

The first thing that happened was the eerie hum of life that kids bring into a house. The dogs were quite honestly smiling at all of the fun they had with her there to give them hundreds of kisses and hugs. I cooked for her and we all played video games together. It seemed so normal. When Hubby would hang out with his video game buddies, I had someone to chit chat with and take to the pool. The loneliness scattered from every corner of our house.

Tonight, I took her to the pool. We lingered longer than normal because my grandfather came home from the hospital and I wanted her to have as much fun as she could. Truthfully, I didn't want to miss a moment. While we were there, two families came down. Between them there were six children. Four of them were three and under. I watched as the dads took their place in the pool keeping the kids herded towards the shallow end as the moms sipped their drinks and chatted about family pictures and vacations.

I felt blessed to share their joy even if it was only as a mere onlooker. The oldest girl was a third grader that I had worked with the year before at school. She had moved away and I hadn't seen her in a while. She and my cousin played and gabbed like all kids do.

Hubby didn't sit there long. He had been at a table reading. I could practically read his thoughts. I saw the glances he stole from time to time, pretending to be uninterested. He started to squirm and sigh. Then he got up and said he was going to go back to the house for a while. I asked him to stay, but I could see something in his eyes. It was like looking at a reflection of my own eyes. I didn't put too much pressure on him.

The Kid went home shortly after that and Hubby headed over to a buddy's house across the complex for a little while. As the door shut and the quiet settled in, I realized that I would never be able to pretend that I was happy with the life we had. I know it is the best thing for us and I will not waver in my determination to make a better life for us, but I thought that would help make it less painful. I realized that it only makes the pain more real and acute.

More than anything, it answered a question that has haunted the back of my mind for years. I'm sure it haunts many of our minds as we struggle on this heartbreaking journey. What if we just quit and didn't have any kids? What if this is all we get? I have been terrified by that question for a long time. Tonight I knew that somehow someway I have to be a mother. I'm not sure where my child or children will come from. I have no idea when it will happen, but I know one thing for certain. I will find my kids someday.