Little One, today is a bit rough. Today is the day I thought you might be here. Today is the day we thought you might be due. That is until, as you know how your story plays out- that mother decided to parent.
We’re still excited for her, happy that was her decision. We hold no ill feelings towards her or her choices at all. That is how this part of the tale was meant to go. It’s how it was supposed to be, and we know that. I wish knowing that made it easier, but it doesn’t. It still aches, just a little. It still hurts to see the little tiny heart mark I made under the 11 on the calendar by my work desk. It still hurts to think of that part of my brain that I’ve tried very hard to surppress where the flowery thoughts flourish. Thoughts like maybe, just maybe, we’d be parents by Fathers day. It still stings when I think that maybe you won’t be here by Christmas the way we imagined, or that we’ll keep collecting items and filling an empty room for years. It makes my soul ache to think that it will take a long time for you to get here. Then there is that small quiet space inside my heart that whispers the words I don’t want to hear, that maybe you’ll never get here at all.
It’s difficult to pull myself together, but I have to do so and realize that this was not the mark of an end, but of a beginning. A new start for us, and for that mother. It’s like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. It might seem like the end of the world now, but tomorrow we might grow wings and flourish and live a life so wonderful it never even crossed our minds or hearts that it could turn out that way. I know beauty lies ahead for us, that we’ll have your room filled with not just things for you, but with your laughter, your own hopes and joys. I know that one day your cry will bounce off the walls of that room and fill our hearts with a sense of belonging, replacing the longing feeling that resides there now. I know that years of magical Christmas mornings lie ahead- mornings where we wake you up with the news that Santa has arrived and brought an entire sleigh full of goodies, and those years will morph into ones where you’re the one tapping us awake to tell us that Santa came. I know that this may not be the last Fathers day that your Dad doesn’t get to celebrate with you here, but that it lies ahead, somewhere out there on our unknown timeline.
I know we’ll turn into a butterfly soon.
I remember writing to you months ago, saying repeatedly that I wish I had a time machine that could take me to this very day and let me know the outcome. But in retrospect, I’m glad that was never in the realm of possibility. It’s better to not know these things. Had I seen that this didn’t work out the way we’d hoped, would I have wanted to go through with it? I still think yes, but it would have caused more pain. I heard about it when the time was right for me to hear about it. Things always happen for a reason, and on a certain timeline. That is the hardest part of life, sweet baby. I don’t know if I will ever get over not knowing the when’s of this life. There are still times when I wish I knew exactly when you will be in our lives, but it’s for the better that I don’t have a clue. I have a feeling you’re going to surprise us and sweep us off of our feet, probably when we least expect it. Knowing would take away the magic, and trust me: we always opt for the magic of life than the knowledge of logic. There is a lot less of the former, so never take those magical moments for granted.
Behind the wound of you not being here yet lies a big abyss of wonderful- our hope. Our hope that you’re still out there, waiting for us to find you. That is what is keeping me going during tough days like this, knowing that it’s my job and duty as your Mom to find you out there and bring you home to us. I’m convinced now more than ever that I was put on this planet to do just that. I was meant to be your Mom, and when the right time and place collide it’s going to be amazing.
There is a Chinese proverb that reads, “An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet. Regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.” I know that read thread is already there in our hearts. We just have to wait for it to connect us. I’m not sure when the circumstances will be right, or if this will be our one and only missed connection or the start to many (we hope not), but either way we’ll find you.
I’m going to hold on to that string for dear life.
Waiting to grow butterfly wings,