It has been so many years now, of going through this journey. And I feel like I am pretty well healed. Not perfectly, sure. There are still cracks and if you want to sit down and talk about how I feel about not being a Mum then I will almost certainly cry. But the need for those conversations are so infrequent that it's gone from an everyday pain to the dullest of aches in the very back of my mind.
And feeling so together about it all is what makes those moments when it's not ok, so inexplicable and so painful.
We welcomed another new niece over Christmas (bringing the niece total to 5 - 3 of whom appeared in the last 3 years, after we had given up trying anymore). When each new niece arrives it is pure unadulterated joy. These perfect little people who I can tuck into my arms and fully embody the "awesome aunty" role that I was totally born to play. I love my girls, and I have convinced myself that I have a special place in each of there hearts (even when their hearts are so teeny tiny).
There have been births in the past where the joy has been tempered with envy or jealousy or just grief for my own loss. But not with any of my nieces.
I don't know if I've mentioned it before but one of Ashley's brothers is also unable to kids. So when his little sister had a baby the whole family celebrated. There is lots of genuine joy there, but also it might be the only grandbaby the family gets. And P and I were both perfectly happy holding our day old niece and it was pure joy until one of the uncles commented to me in an aside that this moment is both happy and sad, and then the tears came, as I realised that there are people who might not say anything but they know. And they feel for us too. But I pulled myself together and we have all (P, and me and to an extent Ashley as well) just focused on lovely that little baby hard.
And this weekend, P & I stood as Godparents for our little niece. And I love that my sister-in-law saw the pain in us and wanted to invite us into her family. And I love that she sees how much love we have for her little baby and wanted to honour that. I felt so blessed and so honoured.
And as we stood in the church and prayed over little miss, I felt the tears come. And I couldn't escape for a quite moment on my own, or slip away home to cry in peace. And the whole extended family watched and I had to laugh it off and say "oh, I cry at the drop of a hat, it's just so lovely, what a special day, etc" when the truth is I cried knowing that this is one more moment we won't get to have as a family of our own.
I'm not envious or bitter. It's just another little cut of grief when I didn't expect there was anything else to mourn. No matter what path we go down (the discussion is ongoing) our story will never look like this. Ashley and I will never be surrounded by friends and families blessing our new little baby. and that makes me sad. And it makes me think if this is going to be a grief that reappears when my niece starts walking, or talking, or when she starts school, or when she gets a boyfriend, or gets engaged, or has any special milestone in her life.
I guess I'm just struck by the thought that sadness might pervade the rest of my life, and that even though I live a life that is filled with joy and goodness and hope, these moments of grief will pop up in unexpected ways and at unexpected times and I may never actually be "over it".
Anyway. Those are my thoughts today.
And now I'm going to spend the weekend focused on being an amazing aunty and godmother and sister in law and enjoy the pure joy of having a little person around (and not around, because my house is quiet ;-P ).
E
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