Reflections and Tiny Hands...

It is funny looking back at previous entries I have written about our attempts to get pregnant. There is one that stands out huge for me, and that is one that I haven't shared on this, but on Facebook. I will share it below. It was written on July 12, 2010. It talks about our struggles with getting pregnant, how it felt to be disappointed, all of the hoops we need and have to jump through, and the emptiness we feel, not only in our hearts, but in our lives.

Now, we have been given the most wonderful gift, besides our own lives, and we are so thankful, everyday, to have what we have, and to have the people we do in our lives, to help us, to love us, to be there for us, to help us learn, to help us grow, but most of all, to share in our little Finnian's adventure with us.

Now, I will know what it feels like to hold a tiny hand that has never been held. And I will continue to hold her hand until my last day...

 

Tiny Hands...

 

About a week ago, Shannon and I were getting ready to go to sleep. She was reading a magazine she got from my mom, and I was doing a Sudoku puzzle, as usual. The dogs were tucked in; Lilly at our feet, and Brody under the bed. I had just figured out where to put the 5 when Shannon asked if she could read me a paragraph from the magazine. I said sure. It turns out this paragraph was actually an excerpt from Spoken from the Heart, by Laura Bush. It reads:

The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful, some not. Still, we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only “I am sorry for your loss.” But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent, ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?

This excerpt struck a chord with both Shannon and I. It did and has tugged at both of us pretty hard. Since she read it to me, I have been thinking about it a lot. Our good friends and family know that we want to start a family and have little ones. Both of us feel like something is missing from our life, and that something is a baby.

For me, this is a strange reality, because I never thought I wanted kids. I told myself years ago that it wasn’t going to happen, so I resigned myself to the fact that I would be kid-less. After all, I had a hysterectomy at 27, I wasn’t the mothering type, I didn’t want kids anyway, and I was perfectly content with having my dogs. It is funny how our thoughts and feelings change over time.

This past week, my sister and her family were here. I got to hang out with my nephew, Caden, who is about 17 months old now. He is such a great little guy. He reassured me that I really do want kids of my own, and that I can and will be a good parent. Feeling his little hand in mine, feeling his little heart beat against my chest when I picked him up and held him, feeling his little breath on my neck when he cuddled into me, his slimy, drooly face when he gave me kisses on my cheek, sensing the vulnerability he has, and the feeling of wanting to protect him at all costs, feeling sad when he was crying, watching his pure amazement in new things discovered and hearing his little voice say “WOAH!” because it was so exciting for him, feeling so thrilled because he can say so many things and do sign language already, and figure things out on his own. I am a very proud aunt. But I am only his aunt, and though I spoil him rotten, and love him to bits, being an aunt is not the same as being a parent.

Becoming parents has been hard for us, because the process for two women to have a baby isn’t exactly easy. We have to sign papers, get them notarized, visit doctors to have them sign papers, and our insurance won’t cover a lot of the costs associated with having a baby for same-sex partners. It is hard, because we can’t just “keep trying” like heterosexual couples can. We have to order the sperm, have it shipped, wait for the right time when Shannon is ovulating, (which has also been hard because she has signs of polycystic ovarian syndrome and is on medication to help her ovulate. Now she has to track pretty much everything she does) go in to do the insemination at the doctor’s office, and get one try to see if the pregnancy will occur. If it doesn’t, we are out over $600, and then we start saving money to try again, which won’t be for a few more months. It is a very difficult and stressful, sometimes tearful, process.

Shannon and I, however sad and stressed out for ourselves, are extremely happy for our friends and family that have had children recently, or those who are pregnant now. We couldn’t be happier for those of you who want children, who have tried for ages or not, and who are and will be great parents. We look forward to being a part of your lives and seeing your little ones grow. We will be the best aunties and friends we can be, and will be there for all of you, as we always have been.

It’s the people who are irresponsible, who have sex to have sex, and just make babies, without being able to take care of them, that have us upset. Any crack-head off the street can have a kid, but we have to work so hard, and I have to prove my worth as a person, and as a parent, to have my own child. That is what upsets me the most. Some stranger has to come into my home and decide if I am a good parent or not, when there are meth-addicts out there who are putting their children in danger every single day.

We will be able to raise our kids with a supportive, loving home. We will give them what they need. There are people out there that have kids just to work the system, costing people money, not even caring about their kids. They pawn them off on the child’s grandparents, or aunts and uncles to raise, just so they can go do whatever they want. As long as the parent is happy, that’s what matters. Every day in the news is another story of some poor child being killed by someone they thought loved them. There are plenty of families that would give these children homes. What is wrong with people?

For us, feeling the tiny hand of our own child, seeing our baby, holding our little one close, is what is missing. There is no lack of love for our child. We have plenty of that now, and more to give when they day comes that little sprout is conceived, and even more than that when baby comes into the world. There will be no lack of love or support for our child. The only thing that is missing now is our child. We are mourning someone that has never been here. We are yearning for their presence, even though we’ve never shared their company. There is a void in our life that has never been filled, and there is something big, very big, missing.

Who really can describe the feel of a tiny hand that has never been held?