I remember how often I felt like Lisa and I were living separate lives.
There was a point, a dark place, when we were so far apart that I wondered if we could make it back to each other.
I had all these resentments for the distraction that infertility had become.
Anger that ‘we’ were no longer enough.
Worried that something was missing that could only be found at the end of the infertility rainbow.
There were so many times that things got precarious on the job and money front but I kept it all from her.
I always wanted her to have whatever she wanted.
Only during those dark days, I didn’t see the vision as one that involved us.
In my mind, it was her and HER baby.
I served the purpose of providing the financial means to bring her baby into the world, and half the biology.
The longer we went on without talking, the bigger the blow out that hit when we did talk.
It is easy to suddenly find yourself living separate lives.
Being so in your head about what you want, or what your role is to get what you want, that you lose sight of something so essential to it all:
You lose the love.
You lose the connection.
Striving so hard to add a third planet to your universe you can risk disrupting the gravitational pull that brought you together–threatening to send you into a black, unfamiliar void. The void that existed before you ever met each other.
That’s when you have to hang on.
Maybe not even talk if the words turn to fighting.
Just hold each other.
And don’t let go.