stormy weather #2

I'm sitting at the computer watching a wind storm blow in across the valley.  The leaves are whirling through the air, and the rain is coming down in buckets.  I miss a good storm.  It rarely happens here, and I always feel so lucky that I get to watch a storm brew from the top of the mountain.  I have had my own storm brewing for the past week.  My emotional state has been completely up and down, and it's been a bit of a tumultuous week.  Now that the miscarriage is over, I've been trying to get back to my normal life, but it hasn't been as easy as I thought it would.  School has been challenging.  I have great students, but teaching a split has provided me with some interesting experiences, and I am trying to sort it all out.  There were many days this week where I left school feeling incompetent, and not sure if I could make it through the week.  My thirty-seventh birthday was on Wednesday, and I was glad to welcome a new year, but am really beginning to feel the ticking of the clock.  I know I'm not old, but in the world of fertility, I am the dreaded over thirty-five, approaching forty.  There are pregnancy books specifically written for getting pregnant and being pregnant if you are over the thirty-five mark.  It's so degrading and discouraging.  There are so many women my age having babies, but it seems like we are looked upon by the medical world as "risk-takers," because of our age.  This week, Michael and I have started opening our hearts and conversations to the next step in this crazy journey.  I want to believe that I still can become pregnant and carry a baby to term.  But, there is the underlying fear that it won't ever happen.  And so I fluctuate between exploring adoption, versus trying again. It is constantly cycling through my thoughts.  And then today, as I stood in the checkout counter as Superstore, a young baby began to cry. I don't know where it was coming from, but it continued, and it was almost as if the whole world went into silent movie mode, because all I could focus on was the crying of the baby.  It was the tiniest cry, but it filled the room, and I was taken right back to hearing Luka cry in the hospital.  I watched as a woman rounded the corner of the canned vegetable aisle, and the crying grew louder.  I just wanted to pick up the baby, and comfort it.  I remember holding Luka, as she cried, knowing that she was hungry and I couldn't feed her, because she was too weak to suck, and my milk wasn't producing.  As I tried not to sob in my line up, I watched the woman pick up her child, and the crying immediately stopped.  Suddenly, I was brought back into the world of Superstore, the beeping of the checkout counter, the buzz of activity, and I began to place my items on the conveyor belt.  Life goes on.  However, in that moment, I understood how deep my desire is to be a mother.  I'm not sure when or how it will happen, but as I drove up the mountain, I made the decision to persevere, and I won't let my age stop me.  I will hold a child in my arms before I am forty.  I will.  The wind has calmed down outside and the sun shone for a moment and created a beautiful rainbow in the valley.  Storms never last, and I know that next week is a new week.  Like the storm, this too shall pass, and somewhere in this journey there will be a rainbow, with a pot of gold, just for me.