Distant

The past few days I've been finding it harder and harder to connect with this space. Part of it has to do with the demands of daily life. I started teaching again this week, resulting in my spending most of my waking hours responding to emails, meeting with students and just trying to keep my nose above water (the 'head' is a pipe-dream). I'm loving every minute, but obviously it doesn't leave much time for anything else.

But on another level, I've felt a pull to disconnect from the ALI world. Unlike last year, where I felt I had so much to say, I'm feeling a lot more silent. Part of this has to do with us being on hold for expanding our family, as no adoption agency will work with us until after our move. The other part is not knowing how to connect with others who are moving on. In a way, it feels like that after everything Grey and I have been through, we no longer belong.

I struggle with these feelings of exclusion and limbo on a daily basis. A lot of it has to do with the mind-set of this process and how driven everyone is to resolve. I've yet to meet anyone who undergoes fertility treatments who truly believes they won't work. Yes there's always the worry of failure, but there's also the promise of hope. So to be on the end where things haven't worked with no future plans for attempting to make them work isolates me from others. The adoption process is even trickier based on our current circumstances. It's not that we've failed, but more like a failure to launch that's put me into a funk.

In short, I'm trying to figure out where to go from here, redefining my role. I still firmly identify as being infertile, but now more than ever as one of those unspoken cases where a happy-ending isn't as clear. While others around me move forward, finding some resolution, I instead feel like train-wreak that one passes, allowing those that travel through to silently feel relief that life isn't as bad.

What's hard about all these feelings is that most of them are not valid. Sure, others are moving on and finding their babies while we've stopped all efforts. But Grey and I aren't drifting aimlessly. During this break from the TTC madness, we've focused on repairing not only our relationship but also ourselves. For the first time in my life, I finally feel that I am in a safe place to talk openly about all that we've lived through and to actually beginning repairing the damage. We're both breaking old patterns and getting in touch with anxieties and fears about ourselves and our future. None of it has been easy, but we're already seeing the benefits from this. On top of this, this break has really allowed us to better understand why we want children. To explore what it is we want from the role of being 'parent' as well as to really assess whether we have in place qualities to allow children to grow and thrive. This assessment has been incredibly important because of how lacking it is in general in the world. I'm particularly sensitive to this lack because it was lacking in my own life for so long. No child should be a  possession.

In addition to all this work, there's been good things too. Grey and I have developed a weekly ritual of pulling Angel Cards. This was mine for the week

We've also been playing in the garden more recently. Grey's basil and flower boxes are doing very well and the fuchsias did incredibly well this year. I've also discovered a new plant called Melothria scabra, also known as a 'Mouse Melon.' When you see the fruits, it's not hard to see why.

All in all, we're doing well. Better than expected, actually. There are still moments of sadness and anger, but as the days go by I'm feeling more at peace; almost resolved considering our lot.

I guess the whole point of this diatribe is that I'm struggling to figure out where I belong. I'm struggling because we didn't get our happy-ending and yet I know we're going to be okay. Surprisingly okay. All of which isn't what one is suppose to be experiencing when living with infertility and loss because this peace is suppose to be reserved for when you finally resolve. When you're finally holding your children.