Kindred Spirits

As the fireworks drizzled to an airy smoke and the hung-over nursed their weary heads, the year 2008 was born. The year that my expectations of assisted conception came to a formidable and overwhelming end.

Empty wallets with nothing to show for it.

No baby to cuddle and love.

2008 was the beginning of a new adventure. I had not given up on trying to conceive. Pfft! Why would I since I was hard at it for 5 years at this point? What was another 5 more? Although I was heading towards the fucked up age of 35, when supposedly my fertility would come crashing down to A Few Good Eggs rather than an Easter Parade. 2008's resolutions included the gym, Chinese herbs, a positive attitude, and the death to bitterness and jealousy.

The basket of eggs would be replaced with HOPE.

In 2008 I accomplished all my resolutions and by New Years Eve, the magical 2 lines presented themselves on a pee stick. Albeit rewind the time to mid-year as I cried rivers over a miscarriage. Although even that disastrous experience gave me a sprinkle of faith.

This post isn't about that journey. Most of you already know it. No, the beginning of 2008 was an invitation to a relatives second child, 1st birthday party.

I didn't attend the party.

As much as my resolutions were in my head, they were still fresh. My heart was tired and my soul haggard. 5 years of infertility forced me into a black hole. As much as I felt and hoped that I would't be there for long, I enjoyed it - the darkness and serenity. No kids birthday party was going to shake that reverie away from me. I had already endured the first child's birthday's and Christening, and all the other celebrations that family and friends gather around for. I was always the only one amongst their fruitful and abundant fertile friends with an empty womb, empty arms and an empty heart.

I wasn't ready and my bullshit smiles were becoming redundant.

Fast forward to Present Day, this Sunday this child will be turning 5 years old.

I will be attending the party.

I will be attending the party with my husband.

I will be attending the party with my son.

I will walk amongst the people in the crowd with a twinkle in my step.

I will hold my beverage up high and wish the little girl a lifetime of happiness.

I will watch my son play with the other children; full of joy and spirit.

I will walk up to my husband and wrap my arms around his waist and immerse myself in a conversation about toilet training mishaps and textures of poo. I will pretend to give a shit and debate the benefits of whether my child will be attending a public or private school.

I will then go to the privacy of the toilet and cry. Cry of happiness that finally I can enjoy a kids birthday party without scorn and venom plastered all over my face nor distress for my predicament.

I will then go home, put up my feet and remember that it was not about being associated or accepted with a certain crowd but that I now was a proud member of a primordial kinship.

Kindred Spirits of Motherhood.