If...

Oh yes, if wishes were babies...
 
I'm trying to keep moving, but my heart really hurts.

I'm not really sure I ever have any strong days... but I guess it's just step by step. 

New blog

Well, I finally got my new blog up. The blog about new. We'll see how it goes - what feels right. I'll perhaps still write here, if I need to process my grief more... I don't plan to dwell on anything like that there, but who knows. As I write, I just let it come out. It's always been my style. But this is a new phase, and a new blog is warranted. I always wondered what I'd do, if I had kids... would I turn this blog into a mommy blog, like so many IFers who got their happy ending have done. I always thought I would not, because I've so often noticed that every time I found a great new IF blog, the next week it turned into a mommy blog. I think my subscribing to IF blogs was a lucky charm for them. Wish I'd have a lucky charm.

Anyhow, I've had a number of things nagging at me these last couple weeks, bringing me down. It's just always baby central around me, it seems, and it really is so hard. I hope others can understand how hard it is. I hope you, my few but loyal blog readers, can understand....  see how the painful reminders are everywhere.

I hope that because I worry I've become an awful and petty person, but it's just so incredibly hard.

However, I'm actively working on not focusing on those things that are constantly flying around me. I once read, supposedly from Martin Luther, though I've never verified that he said it:

"You cannot keep birds from flying over your head but you can keep them from building a nest in your hair."

Whether he said it or not, I like that. That's where I am, I guess... trying to stop the birds from building a nest. 

And so, I may need to step back from my last remaining IF groups. I don't know though. It's just that most of those I'm closest to have found good outcomes by now, so I won't feel like I'm abandoning anyone who needs support. The few that I'm close to, who are still struggling, are ones that I largely communicate with outside of the groups, anyhow - and I wouldn't want that to stop.

It's hard though, when I think about it, because these women have been so important to me throughout this, but I'm not sure being in the groups are healthy for me anymore. I have to think that through more, and feel it out. They're barely even active anyhow, because of all those good outcomes. I guess that's part of why it's hard - the feeling of inadvertent abandonment - others get to move on. I have to move on too - just not the way I want to. And so, such is life.

So here is my new blog... the blog about new: Sweetest in the Gale.  So, in case I haven't already scared you off too badly, by my anxious, depressive, horrid personal rantings, you can check that out. It's strange to have a new blog - a blank slate. This blog, Under Our Tree, which I started during the worst and the lowest of my life, has been so important to me in this nightmare of a journey.

Writing here, and the love and support from you few and loyal, has felt like such a lifesaver! I generally can't speak of it - my grief - very easily, so I'm grateful for this - for you! - and I hope that the new one will be as positive an experience, though I do find myself having some anxiety about the newness of it all - but what else is new, eh?  ☺

New at 42

 So it seems I'm another year older. I'm thankful for that, though I wouldn't mind if I could age just every three years or so.... Kinda like how a year in dog years is equal to seven people years, only in reverse.  Still, I really am thankful - not for the aging thing (fertility issues aside, as I sit here on ice, I can tell you that my back and I are not thrilled about the aging process part) but life is good, even when it's bad, and I'd much rather be here than not.

My birthday, and the days leading up to it, were wonderful!  I traveled to see family and friends and then Ar and I took a little trip. Everything was lovely! This birthday was much less emotionally difficult on me than the last couple were, so that's good.

My friend K was the only one who would pose with the Fonz and me...  Ayyyy

In the midst of the fun, with lots of time spent on the road and with the word FREEDOM floating in my head from the photo challenge, somehow I came up with the idea that for me to be free, I have to be ready for newness.

I've often written of how stuck I have been and how impossible the thought of getting unstuck is. Somehow, in a road weary state, I decided to challenge myself this birthday to become new again. Not me, so much... I'm not interested in a new me - take me or leave me, love me or hate me, but as for me - massively flawed though I am - I'm generally okay with who me is.  But I'm not okay with me remaining stuck.  Life is both too long and too short to let myself stay stuck. After all, life still wants.

It's good to keep making new friends too...

So I challenged myself to do 42 new things this year - my 42nd year. They don't have to be big or major or profound things - knowing me, most of them will be silly and/or edible...  but it's really just about an attitude of unstuckness. An attitude of actively remembering that, despite the chronic harshness of my inability to bring new life into this world, life is still good and new. I've been waiting for so long for the newness that I want, that I'm missing out on much of the newness that is and that could be.

As the poet once said, "You can't always get what you want. You can't always get what you want. You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes... well you might find you get what you need." (Rolling Stones)

I continue to - and will always - grieve for the newness that can never be mine, but I don't want it to prevent me from seeing that newness that is.

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.  His mercies never come to an end... they are new every morning, new every morning - great is thy faithfulness, Oh Lord, great is thy faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:22)

So I've accepted my challenge to do 42 new things before my 43 birthday. I believe I will start a new blog, in the spirit of newness, to document this journey of new. I'm still hesitant to share this blog with more people in my life, since it's rather intimate, so a new blog might be an opportunity to be more open. Actually, less open, but to more people...  Anyhow, if I do, I'll post the new link here. Hopefully I'll get that going in the next couple days.

But to follow up from my last post, and because this would count as my first new thing of 42, I will just note quickly that we attended the adoption information meeting this morning. In short, it firmed up in both of our minds that this route is a closed door to us. 

About 80% of this is simple fact of the matter - not emotion. For some reason, I'd blissfully forgotten that Ar's age is a major limiting factor for agency adoption. In fact, it's a closed door to the only kinds of agency adoption that we mutually agree are feasible for us. 

There was a lot of good information, over the three hour presentation. Along with a wealth of facts and experience, the adoption coordinator warned us to not heed the adoption stories we've probably heard from past adoptive parents, because trends have changed so dramatically just over the past few years - and that it's a really different story now.

All of this was strangely comforting: freeing. This is a closed door. That is the reality. Over this journey, there's always the burden of possibility... it's a blessing and a curse. In this case, it's good to know that it's a closed door, to know that we are operating based on fact. I'm glad we went. 

The only possibility for us would be if we hear of someone personally, who is looking for adoptive parents. The chances of this are slim, but Ar has some inquiries to make about that, but I'm not counting on anything. 

I'm sad about it and, well, about everything. But this is how it is. And that is that.

The lumberjack who makes this 42 year old feel like I'm only 22!!

Freedom!

 I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

Week 27 of Photo 52: Freedom

The free bird leaps

on the back of the wind

and floats downstream

till the current ends

and dips his wings

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with fearful trill

of the things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill 

for the caged bird

sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze

an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn

and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom. 

(Maya Angelou)