Thoughts about infertility

It's interesting the things that are surfacing for me now that Joshua is here.   There are amazing moments when I realize how much pain and hurt are being washed away.  Little seemingly trivial things like my birthday candle wishes or my wishes on a star will finally change now that he is here in my arms.  Episodes of our favorite shows we never watch or that Paul and I fast forward through we can finally watch without anger and heartache. Those are the little signs that things are starting to heal.

However,  I'm also realizing how much trauma this infertility journey has caused me.  My family has started a tradition of putting together an annual calendar. Each sibling is in charge of the pictures and theme for two months,  and then Mom and Dad get the other two.  This year,  one of my months was April.  That is Josh's six month mark and also when we can finalize the adoption.  My initial reaction was to do a spread all about him,  but then I had the sinking thought, "What if something goes wrong and I turn to that month and all I see are pictures of Joshua that remind me what I've lost?"  I ended up doing something different for that month's spread. 

As I do now in November,  I began working on my bullet journal for next year.   The thought occurred to me to do the decorations throughout it with animals- two adults and a baby animal.  Then I flashed back to my bullet journal the year Samuel was supposed to be born. I had prepared pages to record his sleep, feedings,  and diaper changes.  After we lost him,  I covered those pages up and used them for other things. 

Also,  because I have been on the outside looking in,  I know what it feels like when someone I've walked the infertility journey with finally becomes a parent and their Facebook feed and their conversation completely and justifiably transforms into all things baby and I am once again left alone.  I have dear friends who are still there and the last thing I want to do is hurt them by constant mentions of Joshua and all the changes our family is going through now, so I pull back and post blog links that they can open or not so they don't stumble upon baby pictures as they check in on social media. Mother's Day, Father's Day, the recent Daughters Day are difficult enough without me adding to them.

So I think and process and become aware of the wounds that need healing.  When Paul and I would come close in the past to an adoption or try an infertility treatment,  our stance was always, "We are cautiously optimistic." I find that frame of mind hard to shake.  Even with him here in my arms at this moment,  part of me struggles to accept that this last two months is real- that he's really ours, that someone finally picked us,  that I can fully celebrate instead of protecting myself in case the worst happens. 

I hope to gradually fill the worries and fears that still pop up in the most unexpected places with hope and optimism, but my hope switch has become rusty and faulty with neglect.   It'll need some careful attention before it's functional again. Hopefully with each snuggle and diaper change and new memory made with him,  I can really begin to heal.