"The waiting is the hardest part." I would get this song stuck in my head quite a bit during the past few years of anticipation and hope, month to month, waiting to see if I'd become pregnant, then waiting for the time when we could try again. The constant cycle of anticipation, waiting, hope, waiting, anticipation, waiting... I'd joke about how wise Mr. Petty was when he wrote those words...also, because it gave me a reason to reminisce about the first concert M & I ever went to in the early years of our life together. <3 With a childish naiveté I really thought waiting was the hardest part; that I would get what I wanted and that having to wait for it would indeed be the worst part.
Well, now that we have more clarity about what is going on with my health, I have come to realize Mr. Petty was only partially right. Waiting is hard, but it's not the hardest part. The hardest part is uncertainty. While I'm not a patient person, I could be positively graceful in patience; waiting for my body to heal, dealing with treatment, trying again, being disappointed, denying myself every food I've ever loved... if I knew for certain it would all pay off in the end.
But that is not the reality of this life. Now the song that plays over and over in my head is more like Patty Griffin's Rain. If you don't know this song, you must listen. Reality is that after all the tests, surgery, supplements, diets, hormones, and the disappointment that comes with all these, there is still the possibility we won't be successful at all. Is my body too damaged? Will it come back too soon? Are there other problems I don't know about? Do I just try forever? Or do I accept after a time that it's not my destiny? While don't cling to these thoughts, they are always swimming in my subconscious. "Mission possible" sounds good, but in reality it is something I say over and over to pump myself up. Like, if I pretend like I'm the eternal optimist maybe I'll turn into her. I do believe this is possible, but that necessarily mean it's possible for me?
If you're like me, you've always envisioned having children to be a magical, mystical adventure. I have to say, it's hard to find the joy and happiness in this journey with so much potential for disappointment, for loss and for heartache. Like anything in life, I'm trying to learn how to live with hope and not in fear. (Maybe that's why I've spent that last 13 days of recovery obsessively reading every blog of every woman who's ever been through this. That DOES give me hope, and I need to be constantly reminded.) I am a fiercely determined person, and I fight for what I want. This ambition is enough to propel me forward and to overshadow the fear and doubt 95% of the time. On the surface I stay strong, positive, because I want to be. But underneath everything, I am still a child who doesn't like being told "no." A child that wants ice cream more than anything in the world, who didn't even know just how much she wanted ice cream until her mommy told her she couldn't have it; and it's really, really hot outside, and everybody else has ice cream, and if she can't have ice cream now she'll just die, and who's worried all the ice cream in the world will run out soon....
Well, like that child I do not understand why I can't have what I want right when I want it. Unlike that child, however, I believe that there is a greater reason. Even if just to learn something more about living. If the waiting and the uncertainty doesn't kill me; if in the end it all pays off, then I know I'll be that stronger person I also want to be now. One thing is for sure, I will never take ice cream for granted.
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