The holidays are hard. They're wonderful, yes, but also hard.
I think one of the most difficult times of the year for me is New Year's. Too many times I've felt a new surge of hope and optimism that it will be the year that we'll finally have a baby, only to be disappointed. My birthday is also in late January, during a week that is associated with depression. Some say the most depressing day of the year is the 22nd, some say the 24th. My birthday is the 25th. The last two birthdays have been extremely hard for me, partly because of getting older but mostly because they've been spent recovering from surgery and/or miscarriage.
It seems too early to write a post about the holiday season since it's not yet Halloween. After our trip to NY, my Christmas shopping is now in full swing and Chuck and I have already been talking about travel plans for Thanksgiving. It seems it's not too early after all.
I really do love the holidays, but it feels like a ridiculously long time that we've been waiting and hoping to share them with our children. We want to start traditions with them. We want to see their faces light up for all those special occasions. We want our house to be noisy and full and happy. We're just plain tired of waiting.
Every year I hope it's the last one we have to spend feeling empty and sad, grieving over our losses and wishing things were different.
Here's hoping that next year will be different.