Empty

Empty…. Head, arms, soul, heart. Busy…. Mind, life, schedule.

These are the reasons that I have not been writing. These are also the reasons that I should be writing.

Thanksgiving, Christmas and all associated activities are coming at me like the fast pitch machine at the batting cages. Problem is that I was never good at sports; in fact, I was horrible, that whole hand-eye coordination thing just never worked well for me. For years, I have filled up my time to avoid the hurt that comes with family holidays, not my actual family, the one member we want to add. There was comfort in years past being so busy that I barely had time to think about how soul crushing it can be not to be able to have the one thing you really want.

My mother asked me what I wanted for Christmas this year, in years past I rattle off a few things and be done with it or at the very least come up with something in a day or two. This year there was a silent pause filled with tension and pain. We both know what we want, I want to be a mother and she wants to be a grandmother, something that seems so simple and so elusive at the same time. "Next year we will go to the toy store, next year we will have a baby." Was my mantra for the holidays. Only this year that will not work, at most next year we will be expecting our child, but I am too afraid to think that way right now. That way of thinking just makes the next year worse.

I love spending time with my family over the holidays and we have a ton of fun. Still there is emptiness. When we look at the stockings and talk about how hard it will be to find a similar one for the baby, or pretend to savor the extra sleep that we get on Christmas morning, all I am really doing is easing the pain. Yes, being able to set the table the day before with worrying that little hands will break the crystal makes our lives easier. Of course, it is fun to have a relaxed dinner on Christmas Eve, pleasant not to hear, "Can we open the presents yet?" a thousand times, well a thousand more times than my sister, and I ask. All these wonderful things are just ways to comfort myself, because the truth is I will not miss them for a second, nor will they matter when "Thank You" is replaced by giggles, and the boxes are so much more fun than the toy inside.

This year will be exciting and we will have fun, because we always have fun. We will skirt the issue and talk about Christmases in the future when Santa will need cookies and little voices wake us at the crack of dawn. At Christmas, more than the rest of the year, my infertility becomes more than our loss, it becomes my entire family's loss, my parents have no grandchildren, my sister has no niece, and worse my grandmother's have no great-grandchildren. They want this just as much as we do, it makes it so hard, not because of anything they do, but because I want to give them the one thing, I cannot give them. I am so fortunate to have a family who is so supportive, has never once made me feel bad, and most importantly would do anything to make this dream a reality.