It’s been 13 years that I’ve had the chance to become a mother, with no such outcome. Over the years, I’ve felt a lot of anger- mostly quiet anger. Anger at God. Anger at my body. Anger at my seeming lack of faith. Anger at any random mother who seems to be living the life I wanted to live.
I rarely cry, but I’ve heard it said, “There are many tears in the heart that never reach the eye.” It’s as if each tear transformed to tighten my heart and keep me from feeling the hurt. Stitch the wound and maybe it won’t show.
Thankfully, now that we’ve adopted Jack, I can feel a loosening in my heart, some expanding- breaking the hurt. The Grinch’s heart grew three sizes in a day. I now know that can truly happen. I’m getting glimpses how a mother’s heart will feel. And I can’t wait to cry just because I love so deeply my child.
I know this isn’t a technically great photo, but it’s a personal one for me, plus I was home alone and this was the best I could do with a tripod and a squirmy baby.