And here we are again. Another year, another Christmas.
Last Christmas eve, we spent the morning at the clinic undergoing our sixth IUI of the year. We were cheerful, optimistic and full of hope. We told ourselves, this time, this time it will work.
My heart broke into pieces.
I cried, put me back together again and then moved on.
But look at us now, a mere 12 months later.
I’m sitting in bed, my legs aching from all that time spent in the kitchen chopping and cooking and washing up. I’m listening to my favorite Glee music on the earphones, typing away on the iPad, while husband gives me a heavenly foot rub. And guess who is sharing in my music, moving his tiny ass in time?
(Answer: not husband.)
Why, my little nugget, of course!
He’s the tiny human that we have created so unexpectedly, so miraculously. He is the answer to all the prayers that I thought God had ignored. He is the little one who has brought so much hope and love into our lives. He is the son we never thought we would ever have.
And I am ever so grateful that he is here with us, even if it’s in utero.
Next year, I tell myself, next year he will share our love for Christmas and we will create traditions for our family.
(He also already has Christmas outfits in his wardrobe but let’s save that for another day.)
But while this Christmas has been a blessed one for us, I know that there are many out there who are still chasing the dream. There are those of us who keep getting our hearts smashed to bits, which make us wonder why we continue going at it?
I was once there.
I don’t know when everyone’s happily ever after will materialise but one thing that I am pretty sure of is that we will get there eventually. We will have our happy ending, no matter which form it takes.
You will get there.
Merry Christmas, everyone.