May 12, 2015 by CassieCravings
Last week our family marked 3 years of trying for another child. 3 years. Through this journey I have become convinced that time does not pass in a linear fashion. These 3 years seems like they have lasted much longer, yet I find myself surprised that the years have added up so quickly.
3 years. It’s a sad milestone. To want a child for so long leaves my heart very heavy. The day of the anniversary I held it together. I didn’t cry. My jaw was firmly set in defiance at letting the proverbial calendar flip steal my joy. All went as planned until I talked with my dad.
There’s something about the way my dad asks about my day that melts away the protective facade. I began to cry. Then I couldn’t stop. I sobbed for a while. Every time I tried to shove the pain back down, I would start again. The pain of those 3 years: the failed fertility treatments, the multiple miscarriages, the continued disappointment, poured out. Tears dripped onto my phone, smearing the glare of the screen. It hurt. It still does.
I sobbed, and my dad listened. When my breathing steadied, he asked, “Do you remember what it was like this time last year?”
This time last year, we crossed our 2 year mile-marker. I was fresh off of an infertility diagnosis. Adoption was not even being considered yet. I felt hopeless. I don’t use the word lightly. Utterly hopeless was exactly how I felt. In May 2014, my world was being shaken in every direction. Many nights I cried myself to sleep. Dreams of another child became nightmares. I wouldn’t dare to think of a second child, because it was impossible. It was hopeless.
What a difference a year makes. While the anniversary still hurts, it is not hopeless. Not only have we been called to adopt, we are well on our way. It’s going to be a long process, but it is not hopeless. It’s far from it. By the 4 year mark, I hope to be on the waiting list for our child. Perhaps by the 5 year mark, we will have the baby in our arms. We will no longer be marking the years of being without our child. Instead we will mark the years of completing our family.
Tears of hurt became became tears of hope. I am saddened by the 3 year mark, but I am daring to dream again. And that deserves celebration. What a difference a year makes. What a difference a year will make 365 days from now.
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