1-29-11 6:04 pm When it All Fails

You know, reading my recent blogs, I notice a distinct lack of the "b" word. Very good. And yet, negative words such as "don't", and "no" or "not" do present themselves. How can those words share a positive message? How might they denote positive thinking? They surely seem unable to.

So, am I really being that positive? Does it matter? I think so. There is one situation in my life when thinking positive failed me. Maybe it failed me. We so loved having Anne. We saw several children populating our family, regardless of how long "secondary infertility" haunted us. Regardless of the drugs, the shots, the inseminations, the money, oh, the money, we saw red every month - in more ways than one.

Positive-thinking. That's what I engaged in, between cyclic heartbreaks. I prayed, visualized, convinced myself, fantasized. The promise of an additional bundle of joy justified expenditures beyond means, continual efforts toward an elusive goal.

Our hearts bled. About 24 months into this sorrowful journey, we re-carpeted the town-house in which we lived at the time. In a moment of desperation I crayoned a huge, poetic plea to the universe to please create an additional life within our midst. We wanted another baby. I wanted to do better with the next infant (as if we'd done something wrong with Anne, which so far it seems we have not. She continues to thrive). Colorful soy words advertised my plea with the universe, to be covered and kept by new carpet and padding, soon.

Then my Dad came to our place for a visit; I'd momentarily forgotten my missive. That was until a mortifying flood of light filled the hall from the door he opened. And he chuckled. Who knows why? Humiliation drained my manners, and I slammed the door to what would have been our second baby's nursery.

We long ago abandoned our infertility journey. We knew we'd already stretched our finances beyond capacity - well beyond it. We began to resent the fruitless cycle of drugs, shots, inseminations, and regular menses. What loveless way was this to bring life into the world? We reconciled ourselves. Anne would be our only shot at good parenting. After 60 months, it seemed time to make the best of it, as we'd been trying to do all along. The stakes seem, not necessarily higher, rather, maybe just now more concentrated.

So, did positive thinking really fail us then? Hard to say. We've had several family pets who failed to work well in our household for various reasons. Maybe one being is all we're capable of. Maybe we could handle more.

I do remember, somewhere between 9 and 1,000 centimeters dilation, and after a few pulmonary complications for me, thinking: "Never again". Maybe I did it to myself. Maybe it's my fault for wishing no more births on us. Who knows?

Here's what I do know: We are pretty darn good parents. Anne is well-blessed. We have one fortunate family. For whatever reason, we have one child, and for that we are grateful. What if we'd been barren all our lives? And there's more to life besides children. We look forward to the future.

I can write, leaving out all negative words. What impact could it have on my life, and the lives of those around me? We shall see. Heartbreaks happen. And maybe positive thinking will help. So my challenge at this point: write minus all negative words. We'll see how it goes.