A Revelation (or a very dark place... tough call)

So yesterday was Easter. As per what has become 'tradition' for D and I, we trekked out to the KW area for 'brunch' with his extended family.

It was both a good and a bad day.

There are members of his extended family I truly love and enjoy spending time with. And then there are the ones who just make me feel awkward and uncomfortable. Meh. It's family, right?

Anyway, as most of you know, about 5 years ago we got on that Baby Train. And as all of you know, we have no children. There are a lot of kids, mostly under the age of 10 in D's extended family.

2 of these are the kids of two of the people I enjoy spending time with... they got married around the same time as us... they have the most adorable kids... two of them... under the age of 5. Yup, they have the kids we want. Same age, even. And it's both awesome and heartbreaking to watch them.

On the other end of the spectrum are several kids whose parents would quite happily let anyone else watch/raise them. These kids have no concept of boundaries. No concept of acceptable behaviour. No concept of respect for other people's belongings.

It breaks my heart to see kids of an age that would coincide with our hopping on the Baby Train. It breaks my heart to see kids the ages that ours should have been if I hadn't miscarried (either time). But more than that, it truly breaks my heart to see people who are so lucky and blessed to have these kids not appreciate what they have.

Last night I had a breakdown. Not the first. Probably not the last. And yes, on the usual subject... kids. Or more accurately, our lack of them. D said all the right things. He said it's not my fault (because, of course, I feel responsible because I couldn't keep them safe when I WAS pregnant). He said it'll happen. All the right things. But part of me has given up hoping. I thought I was ok with things. I thought I was doing well. Obviously I'm either a really good liar, insanely gullible, or quite possibly both.

I'm old. I don't feel old. I don't actually feel any older than I did in University. I don't see myself as old. But in the procreation game, I'm old. Time is running out. And that makes me sad beyond words or comfort. There is very little in this world of which I have been as sure, and nothing of which I have been more sure than this: I was meant to be a Mom. So, in the face of that sense of truth, how can I possibly give up on the dream? And yet, part of me has. And that realization is somehow a whole new level of devastating, more so than the loss of hope itself in a way.

So. In another 2 months I'll be off probation at the new job (that's been keeping me crazy busy, what with the 9-5 day and the 90 minute public transit commute at either end), hopefully with a fairly permanent employment situation. Which means that the involuntary hiatus we've been on in our quest while I was out of work is over in the foreseeable future. But now I find myself wondering... do we bother trying to pursue the same dream? Do we modify it to pursue the adoption option? Or do we give up, wave the white flag, and commit to living as D.I.N.Ks? ("Double Income, No Kids", for those unfamiliar with the term)

Ok... enough armchair philosophy and self-pity wallowing for one day. It's a gorgeous, sunny, warm Monday out there, and I have the day off (working for the Catholic Church has certain advantages ;) ). I'm off for a walk.