Perhaps I had not lived long enough yet.
The year was 2009. I was 35 years old. The tides were changing in my life, and I am not even sure if I knew it yet.
I sold my condo in early Spring of that year and moved into Gary's apartment. We began to house hunt. I imagined a thousand different scenarios in which he would propose to me. I knew that was where we were headed.
I was right. We settled on our townhome in the Summer, and by September, he proposed. I was giddy with anticipation of what the world held in store for us. I could not wait for our next chapter to begin.
We never really talked about having children. Many of my friends were married by then and started growing their families. I loved their kids so much and began to think that I might want to be a parent. As a child of divorce, I swore that I would never bring a child into this world. That all changed when I met Gary.
Gary was harder to convince. He had been married before and knew how hard marriage could be.
The more time we spent with our friends' kids, the more we realized we wanted to share the love we had with each other with a little boy or girl. A baby that looked like (we hoped!) the best of both of us that we could shower with love and affection and comic book stories and shopping trips. A child that we made together out of the love that we had, for we were lucky to have so very much of it.
That was the beginning of the decade that would change my life more than any other.
In 2010, we got married. No matter what else happens in my life, that was one of the best days of it. Hands down. The sun was shining, it was not too hot or too cold, we were surrounded by our friends and families, and we laughed and giggled and smiled and danced and made memories that would one day sustain us in our darker days.
We got pregnant the second month we tried. The stick turned pink, and we were literally breathless. Our little family was going to be growing. Was anyone luckier than us??
And then the world stopped spinning. For no reason whatsoever, our baby girl died. I carried her just under my heart for 37 weeks and 1 day. I loved being pregnant and had visions as to what kind of mom I would be. Never once was I the kind of mom that had to deliver a baby to the quietest delivery room ever and hold a very still baby in my aching arms.
The trauma of Allie's death has become a core part of who Gary and I are as people, not to mention as parents. A loss like that becomes a part of your cellular make-up, and there's nothing you can do to change that. When you bury a child, you lose the hope that comes with pregnancies and the naivete that comes with usual everyday things. You worry more. You are more anxious. Sometimes just breathing is difficult.
The years following Allie's death were dark. I do not remember so much of that time that was cloaked in grief. We tried to get pregnant again and build our family, but all that luck that we had before, simply vanished.
Until we decided to adopt. A family can be created in different ways, and we had to get creative with ours. From the day we made the decision to adopt, our luck changed.
Miranda was put into our arms less than five months after we decided to adopt. Her birth mother was already pregnant with her when we will still deciding what to do. In Judaism, we call that "beshert." Translated, it means "destiny."
Being a mom to Miranda is who I was meant to be. I do not know why Allie had to die for me to parent Miranda. It seems like a cruel joke. We would not have adopted if Allie had lived, or if we had, it would not have been in that time frame. The idea of someone else raising Miranda that is not Gary and me is preposterous. She is our child through and through.
And so the rest of the decade was spent learning how to do right by both our girls. The desire to keep the memory alive of one daughter while giving what was left of our hearts to the other is no small task! Turns out staying home and raising Miranda for a time was what was right. So much of the decade was a mess of diapers and bottles and feedings and naps (for all 3 of us!) and joy. So much more joy than we ever thought we deserved.
And now we are embarking on a new year and a new decade. Our "baby" will be seven in the Spring. I need to learn how to parent her and also take better care of myself. She is old enough now that I can take some time back for me. And I will.
And that man that I bought a house with a decade ago and decided that I wanted to take his crazy long name? Well, he is still here, by my side, though it all.
We came out of this decade with scars that run deep, but also with love and affection and hope.
We came out of this decade with scars that run deep, but also with love and affection and hope.
Not bad for ten years.
Happy New Year!!
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| Fall 2009 |
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| Fall 2009 |
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| Fall 2019 |
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| Fall 2019 |
