It is the wee hours of Christmas morning. The time when the excitement of Christmas Eve wanes to allow in the light of Christmas Day.
It is the time when Santa is making his slide down the chimney, and exhausted parents put together bikes and doll houses before passing out, only to be awoken by the pounding of little feet minutes later.
And though I have yet to become one of those parents, I still glance down at my baby girl as she indulges in her midnight snack, and wonder how such a perfect creation could ever exist, and how I could be holding her in my arms. I also wonder at the journey that placed her there, and at the fear that even now tinges the edges of my love with a bittersweet knowing that she could be taken from me.
And so, on this Christmas morning, my heart feels the pang and the ache of every woman whose arms have been made to wrap tightly around a child, whose hearts have been marked with years of trying, followed by years of defeat. On this Christmas morning I share in your cup of the bittersweet nature of such a tender love, one that eludes and evades, yet one that never fades.
It is in quiet moments such as these, moments tinged with the bittersweet nature of infertility and adoption, that I remember the words of Deepak Chopra; the desire was put there for a reason, and that reason was for it to be fulfilled. What we must let go of is how that happens. And that part, that’s the hard part, that’s the part that’s bittersweet.
So even though when tomorrow comes my arms may no longer be full, that desire will continue to keep my heart full. And so too will your desire fill you, and warm you, and sustain you, even in the wee hours of the scariest days, the days when it is hardest to believe.
Because if Santa Claus can fit down a chimney, and if parents can follow instructions in Chinese to assemble the impossible on Christmas Eve, then so too can your dreams come true.
Hold on, just keep holding on, and one day the bitter will turn into sweet.