Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Do you ever have those moments where you think everything is going so great and you are so happy and then suddenly, BAM, out of nowhere you are overcome by this wave of emotion so intense you feel like you can't breathe? For instance, yesterday I was on such a high all day. I mean, it was emotional to see Obama sworn in as President-- but it was that great, energetic, awesome emotion that keeps you warm for a few days. And today, I'm still feeling excited and optimistic and great about life, and then suddenly I'm in the car crying my eyes out for no reason. Well, no reason that seemed reasonable, anyway.
Although when I break it down, I guess it is not UNreasonable. I was thinking about the power of the inauguration and how cool it was that the boys watched it in school and what it might mean to them as they grew up. And then I started thinking about the miscarriages I've had and the babies that could have been and how old they would be and what this also would have meant to them. It comes at me so randomly. I think I'm over it and we've moved on and we're just fine, and then suddenly it hits me that there could have been these amazing little people in my life; playing with their brothers, growing bigger, smarter, funnier, sillier; singing or dancing or playing games with us.
I realize it's really hard for me to give up on the idea of a big family. It's what I always wanted, ever since I was a little girl. I loved the idea of my father's family with 2 boys and 2 girls and all the drama and trouble and heartache that goes with it! As I've reached adulthood and beyond, I sometimes think, "Well, more kids means more chances for something bad to happen, for someone to make a big mistake, for your heart to break." But it still seems right to me, a big, loud, chaotic family. I know I'm lucky, seriously lucky, to have the boys. But it doesn't always keep me from wishing for more. I read the paper and see the little ads for adoption and it tugs at me. Is that the reason for all this wishing? Is that the cosmic reasoning for my losses; is there someone out there waiting for us to be a family? How do you ever know if you are right? How do you quiet the heart and move on? How are you sure that you won't wake up one day, years from now and say, "I should have." How can I be sure it's not just the sadness that still lingers from these terrible losses?
Sometimes it's just hard to breathe.