Lather, rinse, repeat…
Occasionally, I start to feel as if my life is like washing my hair. It’s the same show every day. Not much changes. The length changes and maybe I change shampoo brands because I want a new smell but really, it’s the same thing.
I was at home by myself Monday night so I decided to flip through our scrapbooks. I have eight of them now. 10 years of dating, engagement and marriage summed up in 8 scrapbooks. And I love each one of them. The trip to Charleston, Maggie as a precious puppy, our first house, Christmas parties with the choir in Brunswick, our first trip to OU, on and on. Our lives have certainly changed location a number of times. But it’s still just us. A family of two.
Had you told me on my wedding day that we’d celebrate 8 years of marriage without a family, I’d have laughed. Or I might have cried. I remember sitting at dinner with my family in Gulf Shores sometime during the summer of 2006. Mom and I had spent the day on the beach talking about our, cheesy as this sounds, our hopes and dreams for the future. We’d even talked about baby names and how much I was ready to have a family. That same subject came up at dinner and as my brother and sister-in-law told us their baby names, I just started crying. I’ll never forget that.
There have been several more times since that dinner where I’ve broken down unexpectedly. Oddly enough, most of them were before any kind of infertility diagnosis. Since that point, I’ve been fairly accepting of our journey. It was almost as if the diagnosis was a confirmation of what my heart had known for years. That this journey would not be easy, would not be short and would challenge every thing I knew about myself, my husband, my marriage and the people in my life.
Last Christmas, several well-meaning and sweet aunts watched my wonderful husband playing with little, beautiful Vivy and innocently started telling me what a good dad Chris would be. I’d known that for years. Since we were dating and I’d watched him with his cousins. They adored him and I knew one day, our little ones would as well. I spent too much of that day in the bathroom trying to get my emotions under control. I remember trying to read the music wallpaper just to come up with some sort of distraction.
This year, as was the case with my birthday, my husband wants to know what I’d like for our anniversary and Christmas presents. And I have nothing to suggest. It doesn’t matter what I would ask for because all I want for Christmas is a family.
This will be the third Christmas where my heart longs for that one gift. Like washing my hair. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Occasionally, I start to feel as if my life is like washing my hair. It’s the same show every day. Not much changes. The length changes and maybe I change shampoo brands because I want a new smell but really, it’s the same thing.
I was at home by myself Monday night so I decided to flip through our scrapbooks. I have eight of them now. 10 years of dating, engagement and marriage summed up in 8 scrapbooks. And I love each one of them. The trip to Charleston, Maggie as a precious puppy, our first house, Christmas parties with the choir in Brunswick, our first trip to OU, on and on. Our lives have certainly changed location a number of times. But it’s still just us. A family of two.
Had you told me on my wedding day that we’d celebrate 8 years of marriage without a family, I’d have laughed. Or I might have cried. I remember sitting at dinner with my family in Gulf Shores sometime during the summer of 2006. Mom and I had spent the day on the beach talking about our, cheesy as this sounds, our hopes and dreams for the future. We’d even talked about baby names and how much I was ready to have a family. That same subject came up at dinner and as my brother and sister-in-law told us their baby names, I just started crying. I’ll never forget that.
There have been several more times since that dinner where I’ve broken down unexpectedly. Oddly enough, most of them were before any kind of infertility diagnosis. Since that point, I’ve been fairly accepting of our journey. It was almost as if the diagnosis was a confirmation of what my heart had known for years. That this journey would not be easy, would not be short and would challenge every thing I knew about myself, my husband, my marriage and the people in my life.
Last Christmas, several well-meaning and sweet aunts watched my wonderful husband playing with little, beautiful Vivy and innocently started telling me what a good dad Chris would be. I’d known that for years. Since we were dating and I’d watched him with his cousins. They adored him and I knew one day, our little ones would as well. I spent too much of that day in the bathroom trying to get my emotions under control. I remember trying to read the music wallpaper just to come up with some sort of distraction.
This year, as was the case with my birthday, my husband wants to know what I’d like for our anniversary and Christmas presents. And I have nothing to suggest. It doesn’t matter what I would ask for because all I want for Christmas is a family.
This will be the third Christmas where my heart longs for that one gift. Like washing my hair. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Oh Sweetie - I know. I'm sorry. Sometimes crying is all that helps. I too couldn't identify one tangible object I would remotely want for Christmas. It will be your turn one day hopefully soon.
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