Ok, I'm going to get real with you guys in this post. Strip all the way down to my core and show you where I'm most vulnerable.
Ever since I can remember, all I've ever wanted was to be a mom. That was my whole dream. It was my purpose. I was good with kids, I loved being around kids. I was the babysitter everyone called, and I tutored kids when I was in high school. Kids were my calling and my dream. There was no doubt at all in my mind when I married young that my time was finally here. I was 20 when we decided to try to get pregnant and fulfill our dream, I was so excited and was sure that Christmas 2002 would consist of breastfeeding, cuddles and knitting. It didn't. I didn't get pregnant at all. And we tried and we kept trying. In 2003, I recieved my label.
Infertility. I think that's the ugliest word I know. It's the most hurtful word that defines me. Usually it's not one I choose to focus on, but it's always there, lurking in the background waiting until Kind or Generous or Blessed get a little blurry and then it slaps me in the face and lights up a marquee. No one thinks it's one of their words until they've had to face the heartbreak of seeing their dreams of a baby crushed.
We met with doctors and, a few fertility treatments later, I got pregnant. Pregnant! Seeing my baby's heartbeat was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. The pregnancy was difficult, I was on bedrest almost the whole time and then it ended at 15 weeks. There was no squishy baby at Christmas 2008 like I'd dreamed of. There was nothing.
Every year since 2009, I've bought presents for my babies. I bring their gifts to the mall and place them under the huge tree there. A charity then delivers their gifts to children that otherwise might not have any presents at all. I think it's my favorite tradition. It makes me happy to know that in this small way I can honor the memory of the child that never arrived for Christmas 2002 and my beautiful baby girl that we lost in 2008. Their memory lives on. And I'm blessed to know that they bring happiness to someone else's Christmas.
ETA-In 2004 we fostered a baby girl, the most beautiful baby I've ever seen, with the intent of adopting. We were too young to adopt and had to wait a few years, but never finished the paperwork. When we divorced in 2008, her mother changed her mind about the adoption. Really long, really complicated story, with a lot of hurt and broken hearts all around, but not one I'm ready to share online out of respect for all involved.-
Sometimes it's just a question of getting things done... It doesn't always have to be anything spectacular or even beautiful. These pages were more about finishing than they were about creating. And that's OK.
How funny is that washi?? All I could see when I bought it was "It's beginning|stmas" and of course I thought it said "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas". I laughed so much when I brought it out to use it. :) It's the little things, kids. <3
December has arrived. I'm amazed at how quickly time always passes by and once again we've made a whole journey around the sun. The excitement of the season has burrowed itself into my core and I'm so excited to document this time of year. I'm thankful for the little things. For sleeping in and drinking coffee, for candlelight in this dark month, for music and simple things like making a wreath. I'm grateful for the hand I've been dealt and intend to play it out. Here's to the advent.
I actually kicked the season off with surgery on November 30th, so the next few days will be spent at home recovering. Yesterday I watched a lot of tv, mostly cooking shows and now I can't imagine wanting anything but turkey for Christmas dinner (we never have turkey for Christmas dinner). It's not a very practical meal for two people and if my in-laws decide to eat with us, my brother-in-law doesn't even eat turkey... hopefully this is just a side-affect of the anaesthesia.
I hope your Holiday season is off to a good start. Thanks for stopping by.
lover of paper .