Little Reminders

I stood on my front step and wept. When I saw the envelope with just my first name written on it appear out of my mailbox, I wondered who and what, since my birthday is not for two weeks. I was clueless. When I opened it, I broke down. It was a little reminder of not only who is thinking of me, but who I am on my way to meet.
This little surprise made me realize how special our journey has become to everyone around us. My upcoming trip to Denver to fetch my 'Shining Star' star been on everyone's mind. It has been apparent in the texts, phone calls and emails saying 'I'm thinking of you' or 'how are you feeling' or the hugs with 'I hope it works out for you' whispered in my ear. I truly love you all for genuinely sharing in our journey, and truly caring. And mostly, for showing it. I cannot seem to prepare myself for the ultimate outcome....as the tug of war between hope and what may not be is at constant battle. But you have all supported me in ways that I cannot thank you enough for, and truly appreciate.
My inner avoidance of facing our parenthood destiny comes with avoidance of truly thinking about my 'Shining Star'. I know our little one is in Denver waiting, ready to fight for life, but I don't dare to truly connect with it in my mind just yet. The fear is too great. That is why I wept on my front step. I opened the card to find caring words about our upcoming trip to Denver and a small gift. As the sunlight reflected off the shinny pendant, I was dazzled by how it caught the rays of light. It was in the shape of a star. A beautiful, five point, shining star.

On fate and flies

Sometimes I am going on about my business in my kitchen when I notice a fly buzzing up against the inside of the window. Always somewhat of a philosopher and not a fly swatter owner, I stop what I'm doing and contemplate the fly. I think for a moment what it must be like, to be trying to satisfy its greatest instinct - to fly towards light - but having this unseen obstacle in the way. It cannot understand that no matter how many times it tries to fly into the light and outside, it will never happen. When I combine the fly's frustration and the tragedy of it all, I grab a glass, cup the fly, carefully slide an envelope under the mouth of the glass, and walk towards the door. Then something very interesting happens. The fly thinks it's going to die. It panics inside the glass, convinced something terrible is about to happen......and then it's free. Some unknown and not well understood force came along and changed its course. To the fly, I do not exist....but I am the reason it was able to satisfy the most powerful basic instinct. Life.

In many ways, I feel like that fly up agaist the window. Buzzing into un unseen obstacle to satisfy my most basic instinct......nurturing. Coupled with the fact that I have allowed my career to be stunted while we wait to see what happens with IVF, I feel like my head is hitting that window on a lot of levels. If a fly's dead end can be altered by something it doesn't see or understand, why can't ours. Is it possible that at some point, all of us get cupped against the window we are banging our head against and are gently moved to a place we can finally soar? I don't see why not. If a fly deserves it....so do we. And I hope I will be soaring soon. This window is getting to me. My life is beyond it. I can see it but can't get to it. One way or another, this transfer in Denver will be my cup.