We made the decision last fall to stop preparing and to just stop everything until after the holidays. The sense of relief I felt after that was huge; a weight was lifted that I didn't know was there. And I know John felt the same way. I'm not sure what that says. I'm terrified to put voice to that, for a cluster of emotional reasons. And now that it's time to pick it back up, neither of us are really motivated to do so.
At this point I'm not even sure I want kids anymore. Let me rephrase that; I know I still want kids, but I'm no longer sure if I should. I've lived this long on my own, doing my own thing, having my quiet time and I have my routines. My solitude is a big part of that and a big part of my mental health (would it need to be if I had a child?). I'm now 36. No, that's not too old to have a child, but it is getting up there. Then again, I'm 36 - I'm getting close to the cutoff time for adoption so if we're going to do this, we need to do it now because we won't be able to later on.
Part of me thinks that I'll always regret giving up on this dream and I worry about what it will do to me and John. I think of all the things I want to do with my child, all the times I've so desperately longed for this, all the happiness I felt when it looked like it was going to happen, and I still want that. But I also have to look at the uniqueness of our situation and all the pain when it was ripped away. Then I see the ways friends struggle with temper tantrums, behavioral issues, losing themselves, having no time for anything not child related, and I find myself thinking, "thank god we don't have kids." Kids drive me crazy now; I don't have the patience for them long term. Sometimes I think I make a much better aunt than I would a mom. I walk through baby/kid departments, see notices from our attorneys, see the motherhood happiness everywhere and think, "I just don't want to DO this anymore."
I've spent this weekend with my mom; the most supportive person I know. And only because she and I had that hard conversation am I able to finally put this into words now and admit that after all this, I may be walking away. After all the money, the time, the tears, the plans, the items we've purchased and that have been purchased for us (we have a full nursery set up and ready, complete except for baby)... I may be walking away from it all.
Pain changes a person. Dreams change and evolve over time. Letting go is not the same as giving up. But I'm paralyzed with indecision. Look how far we've come. I've been holding on so desperately and for so long my fingers are bloodied. Shouldn't I continue to climb that mountain, despite the treacherous areas ahead? If I let go, will I fly or will I fall?