Hi guys! I’m writing to you today from sunny warm southern Delaware. …Yeah, Delaware. Cause, seriously, who goes to the beach… in Delaware… in November… for Thanksgiving?
Answer: No one.
Which is precisely why DH and I picked this, the most random last minute getaway we could think of, and checked in to a bed and breakfast right on the beach. It’s good to be away, albeit it was kinda weird to spend Thanksgiving with just DH and a few scattered strangers. We don’t even our dog with us.
As thankful as I am for the many blessings God has put in my life, I still couldn’t summon the emotional energy to do the whole family thang this year. My brother and his very, very nine-month-pregnant wife hosted Thanksgiving. Had everything gone to plan, DH and I would have been twelve weeks along and able to (relatively) safely announce our own pregnancy this holiday. One of the very first things we planned back in September when we got our BFP was when we would tell my family. Our plan was to do it on Thanksgiving.
For seven months my family has been (understandably) excited for Brother and SIL’s newest addition to the family, as this would be the first boy born among his four children. It was difficult for DH and I to muster the same excitement about Baby X, as their pregnancy fell squarely during the bulk of our fertility treatments. We of course love our new nephew-to-be, but we’d wanted desperately to share our own news with my family, to be treated with the same eager excitement as my brother and SIL received, but we just weren’t ready to open ourselves up to telling everyone the truth. Instead we kept quiet about Everything. But now especially, when SIL’s bump is so big it practically topples her over and the birth is only weeks away, I just straight up couldnt handle putting on a happy face and joining in. The best thing DH and I can do for our own sakes and that of my family’s is to keep to ourselves.
The holidays were tough for us the past few years: three years ago due to a personal situation with DH, and the last two years from feeling the weight of childlessness and endless TTC-ing bearing down on us. The years before these I don’t remember even noticing our childlessness or seeing it as something that separated us from others. But now we feel the void fully.
The escape from regular life is healing. When I sit quietly on the beach and watch the waves tumble in, my problems seem inconsequential, manageable, small in a world so vast. I’m healing slowly, and because my baby steps to recovery are so minute, many days it feels like I’m going backward instead and will never recover, physically or emotionally. Life has a tendency to move on regardless of whether I resist, so our sneaking away was a way to let that healing begin. I don’t like processes, I like end results, but I know that sometimes the only way to get through is to go through.
Meantime, I hope you all had a wonderful holiday weekend, or just a regular weekend for those reading outside of the U.S. I leave you with a handful of pics from our getaway.