Moon.

I live in this world with a sensitive heart. This is not some bad thing or some good thing; it's just the way I do life. I can be stolen away with the wise musings of a poem, and I can be stolen away with the sorrows of the world.

My sensible brain and my sensitive heart like to battle it out. They don't always understand that they can co-exist, gently respecting each other's differences. Sometimes I ignore them both.

There are days when you go about life with your head down, and then suddenly you look up and the moon is full and bright and bursting with purpose.

The moon, in it's last fullness, said to me, "You get to do this your way. You only have to be who you are."

And I answered, "Thank you, moon."

I went home with the quiet clarity that I needed. I looked inside and said that it was time to have faith again.

Everything I need is here.

Isn't that amazing?

To the Mom with an Only Child

My daughter has a saying at school, a rather wise saying, that I have made my personal mantra: "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit". We have a beautiful, healthy daughter, one whom I never imagined I could love like this.

But our table has always felt, to me, to be missing one more person. We wanted the second child so badly. Unfortunately it's been four years and running and still we remain a family of three. They've used terms like "secondary infertility", "unexplained infertility", "uterine scarring". All of it equals an insanely difficult, if not impossible, attempt to get pregnant.

I know I'm not alone. While many (dare I say most?) moms are able to conceive more than once, our train appears to have stopped. I'm not here to compare the difficulties with being a mom of one to a mom of many. I think both are hard jobs and though mothering in and of itself is the same, mothering to one (or many) is just different.

To the moms of more than one, I don't think you understand how important that play date is. My child lives in the world of her own. She wants to share her 5 year old brain with us and she does. We play legoes, go on bike rides, play imaginary games (of which there are MANY: ie "you go over there and you're the queen and then you come in and tell me that I'm the princess but I was only just born and when you pick me up I'll say mama and that will be my first word". Stuff like that." The point is her 5 year old brain needs to be matched with a child. They have their own banter. It's something that a 37 year old woman and 39 year old man simply can not understand.

Please never say to a mom of one "when are you going to give her a brother or sister?" Please, never say this. You don't know the story. Maybe we only wanted one. Or maybe the fact that we are unable to give her a brother or sister is the biggest pain of our lives, which, for me, it is. I grew up with a secret language with my siblings, interactions that only we could understand. No one "got us" like we did with each other. And for each new scary place, we had each other. Siblings have each other's backs. And so yes my heart breaks each and every day that we can't give her that. She's going to have to learn to navigate the parent-less world alone or with, we pray, a best friend.

To my friends that keep getting pregnant: this used to be a hard one for me. As childish as it is to admit this, I used to shy away from you once that second baby was on the way. It was ridiculous I know and please don't take it personally. But it felt terribly hard to rejoice in something that I wanted so desperately. I'm not proud of this at ALL. Now, four years later of "trying", we've given up "trying", so it doesn't hurt so much. And for the record I love you AND your kids. I really do. It was just me dealing with my own shit. And well, I'm sorry if I drifted away. That was not a good character trait.

I had a friend reach out to me recently asking me how I felt about being the mom to an only child. She was having her own difficulties conceiving number 2. I was honest: it's hard. Somedays it's REALLY hard. But on the other side, some days it's really EASY. There are things you get to do as a mom to one. Spontaneous trips, cheaper air fare, less chauffeuring, and really, well, a certain closeness that comes as a family of three.

We still pray for a miracle. Having a second is not something I've stopped wanting. But after the invasive tests, the financial burdens of infertility blah blah blah, and ultimately, the very deep and personal heartbreak that is felt at each period, well it was time to throw in the towel. No more tracking periods. No more fertility medications. No more forced sex because "it's that time of the month" (which by the way takes all the fun out of it). Now I just have the singular prayer out into the universe that we will get that miracle, though we have resigned ourselves to the fact that one is okay. We know we are blessed.

I still feel heartache at each period. But then I wash my hands, open the door and thank my lucky stars that I have this beautiful child there to love. I understand that family is not always the thing you imagine from your youth. It's the thing that you get. And in those wise, wise words "you get what you get and you don't throw a fit".

That fact is, you never know what life has in store for you.

Blessed.