Grief is unpredictable. I cry until I run out of tears. I make my peace. I find hope. Then out of nowhere, the smallest thing can make all of the hurt fresh once more. I went to visit a client at the hospital this week. I have been to this hospital numerous times for work in the past few months without issue. As I stood in the elevator choosing a button to push, I had a vivid memory of standing in that same spot in November, going to meet my new nephew for the first time. I remember sitting in that waiting room holding my husband’s hand, watching the joyful anticipation of families waiting to meet their newest additions. I turned to him and we pondered whether we would ever have our turn; if we would ever get to leave that hospital with our arms full; the smell of sweet new baby. Our baby.
The hardest part of all of this for me is the not knowing. If there was absolute certainty that we would never conceive… If there was absolute certainty that we would be chosen as adoptive parents… I struggle so much in the grey. I want predictability. I want to know what’s next and when.
So today I grieve.