Tonight I had a great chance to catch up with a friend who has been just as busy as I have this summer. She is one of the few people that knows about my infertility struggle, and about both of the miscarriages. After doing dinner and hitting the theatre to see a chick-flick, we sat in the driveway and talked for about an hour. We've both been so busy that she and I haven't had time to connect in months.
It got me thinking about all of the secrecy involved in this process of infertility and surrogacy. I realize that it's a choice we each make, who to tell and when. But, even then, isn't it for reasons of sheer emotional survival that we make the choice to keep some in the dark while letting others in on the details? For Harris and I, we've always felt like we wanted to keep as much private as possible because we never wanted to grieve with others or give them comfort when our own hearts were breaking. When we lost the first baby, we knew that we'd made the right decision. Everything that's happened since then has reinforced that choice and we only question it in times that we know it's about to become difficult.
That leads us to Christmas. I am remembering to breathe, taking one thing at a time, and preparing to do my last round of injectible meds here this month. But, if it doesn't work and we do go to India for treatment in December, how are we going to explain missing Christmas with our family? That's tricky. I can only hope that one day there's a baby they can hold as we are telling them all of this. Isn't it amazing that the beginning of life (a baby) and the end of life (death) are able to change circumstances just by happening? Seemingly, people at funerals develop a type of amnesia for anything negative related to that person. Same thing happens when someone has a baby - suddenly, the good-for-nothing husband grows a few inches in stature and respect. How does that happen?
So, I'm thinking now of things that I can say which will be the least deceptive because it's not our intention to lie to anyone - especially our families, because we love them deeply. It's a matter of self-preservation and trying to find the path of least resistance to get to where Kerri and Mark are right now. Fingers crossed that our family and friends understand one day why we did what we did. I figure there's still time to figure out Christmas.
Breathing - in and out.