Losing Track

I remember (never wrote about here) the year before I became pregnant with Sophia, talking with a co-worker Trish about her pregnancies and kids. She shared with me what it was like to carry a child all the way to the 40th week and to have had her die sometime prior to delivery, literally days.. she didn't know. I remember thinking I couldn't imagine the pain.

I really couldn't. Until.

I remember far too many years ago during the first year of "the wait", writing about what it was like to be on the outside looking in. You know, the outside of the mommy club and feeling like I didn't belong anywhere.

I remember a couple years ago watching families drop out of the program or booted for reasons ranging from cancer, to alcoholism to of all things, pregnacy (agency rule). I wondered but couldn't imagine what it might feel like to see the referrals from their LID.

I couldn't imagine. Until.

I remember recently writing about what it was like to feel like a tweener, no longer an outsider, but not an insider either. I was between 'alternate worlds', or so it seemed. I could feel the transition and it was a warm and lovely feeling, finally.

I remember recently writing, probably the week I got 'the news', about how I felt so close to being an insider, when I closed my eyes I could literally feel Magpie on my lap.

I am no longer a tweener, instead reverting so far back it's ironic. I am no longer in 'the wait' and as I watch referrals come out I realize I am now in the shoes of my friends, once again. And I fight the feeling of Magpie on my lap along with refusing to walk into another unfinished nursery.

I might as well own a studio apartment for all of the space I refuse to walk into.

And so I learn once again that life is cyclical, everything old is new again and I've lost track of which round hole my square peg does not fit into.

I know what it's like to wonder whether square holes really do exist someplace. If they do, where are they?