Little Nest

This nest FULL of tiny baby birds is nestled in a wreath on the front door of my parents' house. I squealed like a little girl when my dad showed them to me and couldn't resist hovering long enough to snap a photo - even though I knew my presence there was preventing the mama bird from tending to them. My dad said that he and my mom try not to use the front door these days because every time they do, mama flies away until the coast is clear. While I understand thats how it works.....I guess I don't really understand. Mama says - "ooops! danger is coming - I'm out, babies! fend for yourselves!"? I guess that you can afford to have that kind of laissez faire attitude toward your offspring when you make 5 or 6 at a time.

Meanwhile, our little nest is still loudly, achingly empty. Its been about a year since our last IVF attempt and pregnancy loss. Its amazing how different things feel now and yet how many things are still the same. I am infinitely glad that I am not reliving the sadness and trauma of last April, yet those events still shape and color my world. I have regained a small portion of the confidence and self esteem that infertility robbed from me, but I am not my old self. I don't have to worry about injections and intrusive hormones and devastating phone calls. But I still have an empty bedroom and a gaping hole in my life which separates me from many of my friends and peers and a parent-focused society. I still sometimes take a step back to look at the big picture and can't for the life of me believe this has all really happened to us - that this is real life - that we have to live this reality.

We decided at the close of last year's events to let ourselves heal for a while with no pressure, no expectations, and no foreseeable next steps in our quest for parenthood. We needed to get a few steps outside of the fire before we could think about rebuilding. And now, already, an entire year has passed. Do we feel healed? Ready to move on? I honestly don't know. I expected to feel ready...or not ready...or excited....or just....something. But I still don't feel much of anything besides lost. I desperately want to be a parent but with each day that goes by, the prospect seems more and more far-fetched and fantastic. I often feel old and like I've missed my chance - though logically I understand that this is untrue. But with the artificial milestone of one year passing since the end of our treatments, I feel like its time to pick ourselves up, look to the future, and start living the lives we want to live.