Dear Baby,
I feel like I’m on top of the world right now.
I told you that all of this is like a roller coaster, and it is. Lately, though, I’ve felt so good. I’m at the top the of the crest.
Today, I can look out all around and see things clearly, instead of everything flying by in blur, to my ultimate chagrin. I’m calm, and I’m breathing fresh air for a change. It’s nice.
It’s getting easier to talk about you, and I think a large part of that has to do with these letters. I’m not keeping you pent up inside of me any longer, and trying to write down what I’m thinking or feeling at the moment actually draws things better into focus.
I no longer feel like I’m in a fugue, where every time I try and talk about you it all comes out in a jumbled, sobbing mess. This is especially true with my therapist – I know what to talk to her about, and we’re able to work through things individually instead of me just sitting and crying for an hour.
I told you I’m getting better.
Another part of this upswing has to do with the crafting I’ve started. I’ve made close to thirty pairs of earrings right now, and I love it. I’ll sit and twist wire and string beads and when I come up for air, my head is clear and I’m content.
Only once recently have I sat down to craft and I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t put you aside then, and the earrings I tried to create reflected that. Wires were bent. The patterns were uninspired. But even that, in a way, was helpful. I realized that sometimes, I just need to sit with you. My crafting isn’t a hobby, it’s more like occupational therapy. It’s not something I do when I have time; it’s something to do to help me heal. I can’t and won’t force myself to do it. But when I use it correctly, it works like a charm.
I spent some time with your aunts this past weekend, and I know that they are also a huge factor in keeping me at the top of this hill. It doesn’t matter what we do – it doesn’t matter if we do anything at all; spending time with those ladies always – always – clears my head and sends me to my happy place.
I hope you have friends like mine some day. Do they understand exactly what I’m going through? Not really. Do they always have magic words that can lift me up and draw me out of whatever spiral I’m swirling around in? Well, no. But that’s not their fault.
No one can truly understand this unless they’ve lived through it, and I thank God they haven’t had to live through this. And sometimes, there are no words. There’s nothing to say, and there are times when filling the air with empty drivel can exacerbate my pain.
Of course there are missteps. There are things said that, while well intentioned, they land wrong, or I construe a different meaning. But again, this isn’t their fault.
This is a struggle that no one talks about. This is a private pain, and when someone opens up and brings this into a public forum, there are no set social norms on what and what not to say. There’s no handbook.
But.
Your aunts are the best. We’ve been together nearly 20 years. We’ve seen each other at our best and cried together at our worst. We are family.
They may not know what to say, exactly, but the old adage is true: actions speak louder than words.
And they are always present in my life.
They are always there; a crutch I can lean on when I can’t stand on my own. I’ve needed that crutch more than clever platitudes and well wishes. They understand that I am in pain, and I know that seeing me like this hurts them, as well.
Just sitting with me on a couch watching Netflix with their tiny dogs snoring in my lap, or coming with me to the movies and eating too much popcorn with M&Ms mixed inside, or even those nights when we dunk snickerdoodle cookies in birthday cake vodka, because why not?? Those nights have helped me feel whole while I was crumbling inside. That presence in my life is something I’ll never take for granted.
They long for you too, baby. They long for a little neice or nephew; a cousin for their own children. And that’s what you’ll be, no question. You already have such a huge, loving family. I can’t wait for you to meet all of us.
I can’t guarantee that I’ll stay on the crest of this coaster indefinitely. We still have such a long way to go before we find you, and I know this ride isn’t over yet. But I know that we’re closer than ever before.
And I know that there are loved ones in my life that are right there, buckled in the seat and screaming next to me. And no one’s getting off of this ride without me.
We’re all still waiting for you.
Love,
Mom
My Stork Got Lost 