The stupidest thoughts will come to my mind. Seeing something on the news about little Ethan Stacey murder trial...thinking why did he go to that family and not to me. Then I think about adopting or taking in some foster children. I think about those children being abused. I think about those kids trying to stay together and not being broken apart by the system. But I think I'm not strong enough to take care of a child whose had so many issues. I went to a Adoption website for Foster Children the other day, just to look. I saw these pictures and a video clip of these two brothers. 10 and 12 years old. I shouldn't have done that because just thinking about it makes me cry. I cry because I want a baby. My own baby. Then I cry because I know those little boys are wanting the same thing I want...a Family. But I know I'm an emotional wreck right now, and doing anything rash like adopting foster kids will not solve the problem.
My mom and my aunt Linda came to stay with me this weekend. My other aunt LaVonne and her husband, who live here in Ogden, returned from their mission. My grandmother and aunt Charyl stayed with LaVonne. We had dinner Sunday night at my aunt LaVonne's house. There I was again, surrounded by family, all bragging about their children. Being asked by extended relatives if I had any children again. Awkwardly, in the same room with my aunt Linda announcing that my cousin is pregnant with her second child. My mom and aunt Charyl joined in on the pregnancy talk, reminiscing their own pregnancies and bragging about how early they felt their babies inside them. I wanted to scream inside. All I could think about was how lucky they were because all I ever felt were my two babies dead inside me. All I could do was to watch my aunt LaVonne, who couldn't join in on the pregnancy conversation, just stare down and play her dulcimer and try and draw strength from her. She and my uncle Evan couldn't have children of their own and had adopted two children. She was the only one in the room who would understand me. Looking back at that conversation, I wish I had the nerve to speak up and say "Lets change the subject, there are two people in this room where this conversation is hurtful to listen to." I wonder how many of those uncomfortable conversations she had to sit silently through with having four sisters. But like my aunt, I sat silently too. My uncle John, (married to Charyl, who I believe doesn't know about my infertility struggles) made a comment saying "Oh, I 'm not worried that Ra'Chelle will have any trouble getting pregnant." But I didn't feel like giving him the 3 and 1/2 year infertility/miscarraige history story. Then my abrasive grandmother had the nerve to ask me if I was still affected by my failed IVF and had gotten over it yet. I was so upset at her. She is SO tackless!!! Really Grandma? (Because something like this will change your whole perspective of life and how you look at the world. I will never get over this. It's changed me forever. Imagine never having children. What and who are you now?) It was like the whole night I was bombarded.
The only positive experience I had this weekend was when I took my mom and aunt Linda to this place called Rainbow Gardens. It's a gift shop kind of place, with lots of holiday decor. What caught my attention was this little pink Christmas tree, set up in the window as a display, with beautiful white beaded-sequenced bird ornaments. It felt like I had seen that display before, but it's been years since I've been to Rainbow Gardens. It was almost like my little angel Ava, who is in heaven right now, was trying to tell me that she was waiting for me. It's moments like those that help me to have hope. But I don't know if it's really her or just me wanting to believe.
