dear future little one,
I don’t know your name. I don’t really know who you are, where you are, or when I’ll get the chance to meet you. I don’t know why I can’t have you, hold you or sing you to sleep. But I want to. More than anything in the world...I want to.
There seems to be a lot of things I don’t know right now. All I know when it comes to you is that I love you...and my heart absolutely aches for you.
For the past 17 months, I have dreamed about just holding you. In April 2012, I remember being so excited to “try” to create you...the first time when it could really even be possible. And month after month I thought about it being the last time that I would experience living that “month” not being a mom.
I don’t recall after the first few months feeling too discouraged. Honestly, I didn’t think you would come easy...but I also didn’t think I’d go two more Mother’s Days without getting to be a mom. Without getting to be your mom.
A week ago I turned 24. 23 was supposed to be the age that I would have you. For no reason other than all growing up, 23 just always seemed like the year I would become a mom. And last Tuesday on the eve of my 24th birthday, I remember lying sideways on the bed with Chad, listening to the full 7 minutes and 23 seconds of Jimmy Eat World’s “23”...and trying so hard to hold in my tears. Inevitably, I let one or two squeeze out and roll down my cheeks.
No one else will know these lonely dreams.
No one else will know that part of me...
You’ll sit alone forever
If you wait for the right time
What are you hoping for?
I’m here, I’m now, I’m ready
Holding on tight
Don’t give away the end
The one thing that stays mine
I don’t think I’d be able to document the roller coaster of emotions that I’ve experienced day to day, month to month, as I’ve hoped, prayed, and waited to learn that having you someday will be possible.
As I’ve read and heard from friends and complete strangers sharing their journeys through baby-making, miscarriages, and “infertility”, I really just want you here now more than ever. I want so badly to stop living vicariously through them and their ability to make that big announcement, finding out and sharing the news that they are expecting a sweet little baby. I’m truly so happy for them...and I just want that to be me and Chad someday, too.
I never thought I would ache so much to see a tiny plus sign on a plastic pee stick, and I sometimes try to picture the pure joy and elation I will feel - just like they do - when that finally, legitimately, magically happens.
As more time has passed, picturing all of that actually happening to me becomes more and more surreal. That’s one of the reasons I want to write this down. I purely wish I took dance lessons so I could effectively punch dance out my rage (Kevin Bacon style), frustrations and the moments of heart-wrenching pain I’ve felt over the past year and a half from feeling like I have absolutely no control over making you happen.
Instead of punch-dancing, I think the next best thing I can do is write it out.
I think writing this all down starting now will help me better cope with having to keep on waiting for the day I’ll get to find out you’re on your way to us.
And then maybe those nights when you’re crying and I just want to sleep, I will remember this aching I feel for you now. And I’ll squeeze you just a little bit tighter because you’re my dream come true.
I want so badly to be saying “remember when…”, and holding you instead of another year from now reading this and still wondering…"when"?
I’m trying so hard to just be still.
I’m trying so hard to swallow that lump in my throat that creeps up when I just want to cry.
I don’t want anyone to know that sometimes I really ache this much. I want to believe people when they say they think I’m strong. Some days I think I am...and then days like today happen.
My thoughts are consumed with wanting answers...knowing I can’t have them. Not yet anyway. And my journey is constantly just trying to be okay with that. Not having the answers. Not knowing, but still believing.
I was reading a blog today that had the scripture Genesis 30:22. I’ve honestly never read or even heard about it until today. It probably just seems silly, but it really gave me so much hope.
“And God remembered Rachel, and God hearkened to her, and opened her womb.”
As much as the latter part would be just fantastic right about now, I felt so much more touched and invigorated by the first four words. And God remembered Rachel. Well, my name clearly isn’t Rachel, but I know that God remembers me. He is mindful of me right here, right now, and He knows when it will be the right time to meet you. And he’s preparing me to be the best mommy I can possibly be for you. Because you deserve nothing less.
I’m sure lucky to have the one you’ll call daddy by my side through all of this. Maybe you’ll come from us, maybe you won’t...but you’ll get here someday, and when you do, you will be ours alone and we will love you more than life.
your future mommy