The Eternal Guest Room

For most of my life I never particularly felt the need to have a child. Yet I always just assumed I would grow up and have kids. It’s a weird thing to explain, especially now, especially after all we’ve been through.

The irony just kills me – when we started trying for kids, I used to say that if it turned out we had problems or for whatever reason couldn’t have kids, that would be okay. I would never even entertain the thought of doing fertility treatments. I even specifically said that I would never pursue any form of treatment. I just didn’t think I wanted it that badly. I thought I would ok with just the two of us, always, and never need a third.

But as time went on and it didn’t happen I started to realize that I no longer just expected a child  – I longed for one, desperately. Not just any child but my own child, our child, someone who was the two of us put together. The expectation turned into a yearning that I had never known possible, and it blindsided me and took my breath away.

Sometimes I close my eyes and picture it so clearly. I can see myself in the back room, as a nursery, holding my own baby, with the sun streaming in so perfectly as it does in the late afternoon. It’s peaceful and serene and comforting and it feels so right in my heart.

I don’t know why I keep going back to that picture, but when I do, my heart aches in a way I never thought possible.

I can talk about moving on and think rationally about the possibility of it never happening, but I know that it will not be an easy thing to move away from.

Some people will say it’s selfish, to continue down this path, and at one point I might have agreed with them. But that’s the thing – unless you’re someone who has decided to adopt before trying to have your own child, you have no room to judge. You started in the same place because you wanted the same thing. It’s just so basic.

It seems so simple and maybe that’s why I want it so much.