I wasn't sure I had it in me to write today, about today.
My 35th birthday.
Honestly, I'm not sure I do have it in me.
The Man just made an amazing dinner of homemade, gluten-free crab cakes, candied sweet potatoes, and asparagus. (I really should have taken a photo.)
The card he gave me brought tears to my eyes. Mostly good. I know he means every word that is in it. I also know it stood out to him and he picked it in an effort to reassure me. To remind me that I am enough. That whether or not we have children, he loves me and our life is good.
I am resisting anger again. I don't want that kind of card to stand out to The Man. I don't want him to be trying so hard to show me how much he loves me and how I am not alone and how I am enough. I hate the doubts that infertility has caused to surface within me.
I'm sure it doesn't help that my first gray hair appeared a couple of weeks ago and the eye doctor telling me I have the start of cataracts. Oh, I've already written about this haven't I? Obviously I'm not handling any of this very well.
I have often written about being stuck between two lives: the one I want and am planning/hoping/dreaming for and the one I am living. This birthday has found me stuck between being truly grateful and just sad. On the grateful side, when I see the way God intervened in our lives, with NFP and other things, I am overwhelmed by His mercy and grace. When I think about the road we were on exactly 5 years ago today, I shudder and can only feel grateful and realize the trueness and depth of the phrase but for the Grace of God go I. And then, when I think about what we still do not have, when I think of waking up this morning in a hotel room to the sound of someone else's child laughing and giggling in the room beside me, I am almost overcome by sadness. I suppose it is just one more thing that is both/and, ah, how life is so very Catholic :).
For tonight, I'm choosing to focus on the good and to be grateful. I'm also allowing the tears to come when they do and trust that they truly are prayers, just as they were when Jesus wept. The Man is finishing the dishes and we will drink wine, have dessert, and catch up on our DVR. Then, this weekend, we are off to DC for the Cherry Blossom Parade. We will stay with Ecce Fiat and Mr. M., have a cupcake meet-up on Saturday (if you are in the DC area and want to join us - comment or send me an email and I'll give you details) and we will just be away, together and I know the gratitude will outshine the tears. If only for a couple days.
I realize this is probably scattered and doesn't make a whole lot of sense. My emotions are scattered and honestly don't make a whole lot of sense to me. Quite honestly, I'm fighting to not just completely lose it. I'm fighting because The Man has worked so hard to make this evening a good one, and I will not do anything to make him feel that he has been anything less than successful.
I don't know that I've really written anything worthwhile here, and I'm trying to conclude this with a final thought, but nothing is really coming to mind. I woke up this morning and turned 35. There is much good and beauty in my life. There is also much sadness. Regardless of whether or not I am feeling joy or sadness, I am alive. My very life itself is gift and proof of Love. God is real. He is the same regardless of how I feel. He is trustworthy. That is all that matters.