Where I Stand Now

I hesitate to post this. One of the goal's of this blog was to be completely open and honest about the adoption process not only on a factual level but an emotional one as well. But it is starting to feel like I have some kind of Muenchhausen syndrome, garnering attention through my pain. So this is your warning, if you are tired of listening to my pain, stop reading now. I won't be hurt. Feel free to leave comments telling me to shut up and suck it up. No don't. You know me.

What scares me the most is being consumed by the process. Once we were matched, we knew that on the baby's birthday that someone would be a happy parent(s), and somone would be grieving. We ended up being the grieving ones. And I am starting to feel like that is all I am ever going to feel. I am having trouble seeing the light at the end of the tunnel because I feel like the tunnel has collapsed. My mind knows that is not true, but my heart can't believe that I will be a mom someday. (God, that's a design flaw. Really, the brain should have way more control over the heart. You'd save yourself a lot of messes that way.) I am in constant conflict, and I am afraid I am losing myself to that conflict.
I want a child because my life is wonderful. I want to share that will a little one. I want to know that I can make a baby's life wonderful too and through that make the world a little better. But the process as been so full of sorrow and frustration, I feel like what I have that is so wonderful is dulling. And I don't want that. It will make me bitter and unhappy. I am just not sure what is going to polish it back up.I suppose the polish is supposed to be the baby. That is a lot to put on a little pair of shoulders. I don't want my complete happiness to be riding on this one thing. Parenthood will never be fulfilling that way. And I am also sick of feeling sorry for myself and everyone else feeling sorry for me. I hate getting attention this way. Look at me because my pathetic uterus won't get the job done, and some poor girl dashed my hopes to save her own. (This is the Catch-22 of this blog.)
Those are the down times. They come and go. Ultimately my brain does end up taking back over. I look at John and once again am awed by how much I love him. And then overwhelmed by how much he loves me. Then we laugh about something personal, go on a bike ride, cuddle on the couch with the pets, get frustrated with the dogs, go on a car trip to visit friends, meet family or friends for dinner, or just sleep in, and I feel ever so lucky. The list of life's goals is endless if you let it be. This one goal is proving to be harder than I ever thought possible. I will make sure the other goals that I have will not be overshadowed or destroyed. The struggle has just been more prometheanian these last two weeks. And it doesn't look like it is going to get any easier.
I am glad I have so much support from so many, especially John. That is my buoy. My marriage is my joy that can never be touched by any sadness.
Except maybe the horde of lunchtime plastic containers in his car.