If I’d Known There’d Be Gifts…

I hesitated posting about our quest to have another child.  I debated over whether it was too personal, too emotional, too none-of-anyone-else’s-business.  But the more I pondered the event, the more I wanted to share it, to open up the hidden corners of my soul.  I also considered that I don’t want my blog to be a discourse on my perfect life, since it is anything but that.  If everything I post is silly or idyllic, then I’m full of crap.  I ultimately felt that omitting my struggles would mask the authenticity of my mortality. So I shared.  Then I felt paranoid that it was an over-sharing and smacked myself across the face.

But then something wonderful happened.  The people I care about the most responded to me with love.  I was incredibly heartbroken and sad, and in the clutches of my sadness, my hope was renewed, slivers of happiness emerged.  I was surrounded by the concern and support that I needed.  I received flowers.

From my sister, Chris.

From my parents.

From my husband.

I received phone calls and texts.  I was strengthened and encouraged.  I was reminded that I am not alone.  How grateful I am for that!

There has been some healing for me in sharing.  The tender emotions of my heart are not so raw anymore and I feel like I’ll recover from my sorrow.  I even feel like I’ll recover as a stronger version of myself.  I might just share more personal things with you. 

And I expect flowers when I do.