For five long years, we tried. Cried. Hurt. Now we look at our young family in amazement. Something so out of our reach is here, happening, everyday, parenthood.
That was not always the case. Infertility, painful reminder of a rocky time. We searched our souls. It tested our marriage. An experience like no other. A time I do not want to forget. We discovered brute strength and deep love before a child ever entered our arms. My heart will always have a place for those dark times. For in the trenches, I found me.
While wandering around a civil war era cemetery, I found the names of a couple. Finishing their row laid 6 infant headstones. Their six offspring. Varying years. Similar stones. the souls of what might have been. Glancing over the tombstones, I glimpsed the sun shining down on my middle child. A ray of light reminding me that sometimes things are beyond our control. But happen for a reason.
Another time…During M’s extended NICU stay, I passed a door one day, a door I passed multiple times in 57 days, and on this day, a cloud of grief came over me. It shook my soul. I turned and glanced at the closed-door. On it was a single pink, paper rose. I knew in my aching heart before I knew in my head what that represented. A time, a passing, a grieving family. A reason not known. Again we hunkered together, grew as new parents, learned to lean, and most importantly followed this path laid out before us. No time for why M? Why us? Not a minute for speculating a reason.
Everyday three little reminders wake me, feed my soul love. Hug me. They must be my reason. We had to wait and grow, for them.