Tough

This is a tough time. This week marks the one year anniversary of having gone into the hospital in Portland, and at the end of the month we will mark the one year anniversary of the birth and death of Pedro and Archer. It gives me goosebumps to even write it.

I can't believe a year has gone by. I am reduced to sobs at the very concept. Surely it can only have been a few months, no longer than that. The memory is still so present: the memory of them in my body, the memory of them in our arms.

On the other hand, we have certainly grown and healed since we slowly, gently made our way back from Oregon. Our pain is less raw, more integrated. We have both found many many moments of laughter and joy. We have made new friends, settled into a home and a life here. We have gone from being able to talk of nothing but our loss to now deciding when and with whom we share our story. We have started attending HAND only sporadically, every few months, just to check in. We will go this week to honor our sons. We still aim to train to be facilitators, but feel we should wait until we have a successful pregnancy: I remember how desperately I asked the people running our early meetings: did you go on to have more children? Did they survive?

I am angry that a year has passed. I do not feel ready for this birthday, this deathday. I do not feel ready for this to be part of my past. I'm sure it doesn't help that we remain unsuccessful in our attempts to raise a family: Pedro and Archer are still our only children, the children that should have been. I am starting to lose my cool when I see pregnant women. I curse at them under my breath for having the success that eludes me. Interestingly, I do not feel this way about babies. When I see babies, I go all warm inside and tell myself, lovingly: you will have that someday. Go figure.

I have dissociated the two things. To me, pregnancy has become a limit: I can approach it but never achieve it. It is a situation frought with danger and disappointment, with dashed hopes and disaster. Having a child, on the other hand, is the next great adventure for Bruno and me.

As I write this, I hear the obvious solution: adopt. And I think it is a wonderful thing to do in the world, and it may very well be our path. But I'm not ready yet, to give up the dream of having a child that is a mix of me and the man I love, of carrying that child in my body, of suffering all those pains and humiliations and letting it change me, ready me for motherhood. I'm not ready to give that up yet.

And so we will continue to tough it out.