Ok With It

So we just left the maternity ward after seeing my friend Kate* and Anthony. Just as I expected, her sister Betsy* was protectively holding him, complete with the judgmental downward look should I dare to hold him, lest I steal him, infertile friend that I am. Not fun, but ok, you don't really know me, and I'm sure I'd feel the same way towards my sister's infertile friend she hasn't seen for over 6 months, too.

Still yucky.

I don't have to be ok with it.

I'm not ok with what God is doing. But I don't have to be. I know God is a good God, and really, that is enough. It doesn't feel like it is enough as we drive through the night, headed to DH's office for some late-night work. If we had a baby like Kate does, we couldn't do that. We'd be headed home, with me very sore, and one very perfect gentle angel in my arms.

I didn't hold him at all. No one offered, and I didn't ask. Hmm, I thought, so this is how it is. Not bad, but not especially good. But then again, this infertility thing is a shark with piercing white teeth, capable of separating bone and marrow, shredding hearts and dreams.

Hope you enjoyed your time in the maternity ward, I told DH. You'll be spending the LEAST time of all your friends here, I said after he mentioned the 4 friends' babies he had visited down this same hallway.

Don't talk like that, he said.

We mailed our photo books to the adoption agency today. For those of you who don't know, these are 5 copies of the same book that different birth mothers look through to choose the adoptive parents. We made ours a literal book, as I learned photo publishing websites can do. It has pictures of our lives, our cats, our hobbies and our heartaches. A Dear Birth Parent(s) letter, the most difficult letter I've ever written, is at the front. Over 6 months of work and lots of tears, several re-writes and drafts later, and it was ready. I found myself choking back tears as I walked out of the post office.

Take care of the most personal, vulnerable package I may ever mail, I implored.

Then DH called in the credit card for our agency fee. A chunk of change like none other, the agency fee is compliments of my parents. We did some saving, the best we could on our budget after infertility treatments, to contribute. I'm conflicted, but very grateful to accept their help.

We have quite a lot of expenses to go, including travel to the distant state and the rest of the fees involved. Not sure how we're going to pay for that, but God is able.

On a humid night with no hint of the forecasted rain, I look as far out into the night as I can see. Maybe if I can see someone else's life, I can forget the emptiness, the sorrow, the ache in mine. It is raining in the world I see tonight, like it has been for some time now.

And no, I'm not ok with it. It bites. Over and over. With no knowledge of when it all will end.

I'm glad I saw my friend, though.


*not their real names