Follow me on the crazy, hopeful, discouraging, funny, and ultimately successful (one way or another) path to parenthood while facing infertility.

Friday, May 19, 2017

Making Changes, One Sign & Space at a Time

Toward the end of last school year, a special friend gave me a beautiful sign, which fit perfectly in the nook where our glider lives and matched the color of the upholstery and the owl pillow which my sister gave me before that glider ever existed. It fit the decor, and it fit the hope that we felt that it would ring true sooner than later, despite having had three opportunities that weren't the right ones and a lot of radio silence. I cried when she gave it to me because it was such a beautiful sentiment. It felt true and immensely possible at the time. even though nothing had panned out yet.

But now, it just smacks of shattered hopes. Because it's not quite true, now is it? This is not a wish that magically came to be, no matter how much we wanted it to.

Now it makes me very, very sad, because we are in this place of transition, having made a very difficult decision...since it has become clear that the impact of our many years of limbo and waiting and living as though we could be parents without actually ever becoming parents has taken a toll on my health (both physical and mental), and we are both exhausted. Thanks in large part to my April crisis, we have come to an end to this chapter...left holding nothing but a lot of sadness and frustration. And hope for a new future we have to re-envision, but right now I feel a bit in the muck.

A couple weeks ago, after a weekend of de-cluttering, Life Without Baby work, and finally putting my Baby Binder in the flower box with all the other relics of infertility, I had to go to the grocery store to pick up a prescription. I was feeling too puddle-y to go by I made Bryce come with me.

And there it was, a little wooden sign, in a display by the checkout lines, that I just had to have.

As a general rule, I hate decorative items with words on them -- those "Always Kiss Me Goodnight" or "Live Laugh Love" things are not for me, because they sort of feel like they are yelling at me -- STOP TELLING ME HOW TO FEEL, THROW PILLOW/SIGN/WALL DECAL!  (That said, a delightful throw pillow for the new couch that says "Fuck. This. Shit." is one of my favorite recent purchases and will probably stay on the couch FOREVER.)

The sign that we found toed a line between the kind of kitschy thing I despise but also oddly appropriate to the point of kismet, like some buyer at the grocery store we have was like, "Some infertile couple facing down the end of their journey to have a child will need this right now." So I bought it.

I don't think the people who made this sign meant it to mean what we take it to mean, but it works for us.

And then I did this.

It made me feel sad to change them out, but also lighter. It changes the space from What-Could-Have-Been to more What-Is. That space is a great reading nook, and the chair can swivel all the way around to face the woods behind our house, and it also feels a bit like being in an escape pod in Sta.r when you recline it. I love this nook, actually. It will just have a different purpose than we originally envisioned, like so much else we are working our way through in this difficult, difficult transition.


  1. I'm a firm believer that symbols and messages find you when you most need them. Hence this sign is lovely. It's a message for healing during this part of your journey. Just as the other sign was for you last year.

    The reading nook looks amazing. A perfect place to get lost in a book or your thoughts.

  2. I like the idea of changing the message on the wall; it seems like a good way to try to shift the meaning of the room in your mind. And it's cool that you found it so fortuitously.

  3. Your inner wisdom is serving you well in this painful and difficult journey. I continue to marvel at your strength. I remember when you as a child would reach up to me with your arms open and declare, "I need a hug!" I would scoop you up in my arms, hold you tight, and realize that I needed that hug, too. I am still holding you in that hug, in my heart...

  4. Like the pillow, the plaque is perfect. A great first step in re-purposing such a wonderful space.


  5. It's a beautiful nook. How I would love to curl up in that chair under that sign.

  6. It is a wonderful quote, and a good reminder. Amazing the transformation a place can take on when you are open to it. Small, but big steps in taking back control of your life and making a new life. It is a lovely nook and perfect space to get lost in a book.

  7. I love the new sign, and I think it's commendable that you are brave enough to start making those changes. After our foster children left it took me so long to reopen the door to that room, and move things, and change them, and it took even longer to clean out the closet. As a matter of fact, I still have never changed the sign or the star night light that hangs on the wall. I use that room for my closet now and I guess I've become numb to some of the things still in there.

  8. Looks like the right sign at the right time. :) Some of those signs & pillows, etc., bug me too -- but every now & then, you find something that resonates. I am still kicking myself for not buying a decorative garden stone I saw at a Hallmark store that read "I tried. It died." Tickled my funny bone. ;) (Very) black humour on my part, I know (and most people wouldn't get the dual meaning), but I know several loss moms who would appreciate it... ;)

  9. Love it! I think that it goes perfectly in the room and for you guys in your transition right now.

  10. That's a lovely sign and sentiment. Wonderful that it came to you in such a way during this difficult transition. It really does look like it changes the feel of the space.

    The nook looks like a wonderful place for curling up and getting lost in a good book.

  11. Your attitude, as always, is awesomely inspiring! *hugs*