I hope she knows

October 11, 2009

There are moments where the sadness at not being able to mother a child washes over me. I had a few of those moments one morning this past week. I cried on my way in to work. I thought I could pull it together as I logged in to my computer, but no dice. The tears kept coming. I didn't weep. I was just quietly sad. I sent Jeremy an e-mail. "How long will I have to wait?" I told him how I know I'm going to be a great mother. He e-mailed me back. He said he knew it too, and that our time would come. He told me that when the time comes, we won't even remember this time. He said that now is the time for me to enjoy the things that I won't get to enjoy as frequently after we have a child. He told me to take long naps, go shopping, eat leisurely meals, etc. I felt understood and I was glad I turned to him for comfort.

There's been a balance Jeremy and I have had to find in grieving. We both would have become overwhelmed had we been the only support and comfort for each other through all this stuff. On the other hand, we also needed to let each other in on our processes. We had to feel understood by each other. It's a balance. Any couple that has dealt with stuff like this knows what I'm talking about. It's another dynamic that we've had to figure out that really, in all honesty, it could have been our ruin. And it's because we've had such great support from family and friends that we haven't ended in ruin too.

Today is a perfect example of why I love Tucson so much. It's been a perfect, glorious day. Jeremy and I woke up and went for a walk together. When we got to the park he ran a little and I kept walking. We got home and I felt so good. Jeremy had plans to meet a friend to play some tennis, so I decided to do something I haven't done in a very long time. I went to church. But I didn't go to what most people think of as church. I went to a Society of Friends Meeting (Quakers).

We sat in silence, meditating, praying, contemplating for nearly an hour before anyone said anything. The game my grandma used to paly with us when we were kids kept going through my head: "Quakers' meeting has begun. No more laughing, no more fun, no more chewing bubble gum. Crack a smile, walk a mile. Quakers' meeting has begun - now!" Did you ever play that "game?" It's a tricky little game (or contest to be silent) that adults use to keep kids quiet. It works up to a certain age, so long as the kids aren't trying to make each other laugh. But even then it's fun. Anyway . . . I digress.

The pamphlet I was given when I entered had an article in it about appreciating children and respecting and honoring the gifts they give us. It was a sweet article and made me smile. At the end of the meeting the kids joined the adults in the meeting room. All the kids except one were quiet. The one was probably about two years old and was crying. He cried all the way to his mother's lap where she held him and cuddled him and he stopped crying. I smiled and my eyes welled up with tears. That's what I want. That right there is why I want to mother a child. I want to the be the comfort for the sadness of a little soul. How long will I wait? I hope she knows what a gift she has sitting in her lap. I hope she's not embarrassed by the noise he made. I hope she knows . . .