Quiet

Can you believe we are less than a week out from our second embryo transfer? It almost doesn't feel real that we're here again already... There was a LOT of planning to get to the starting point of our first surrogacy attempt, so it's only natural that the excitement and anticipation built up so much. This time around everyone has been pretty quiet, at least so far, and honestly I am 100% okay with that.

I knew going into this the first time around that it was very possible it wouldn't work since surrogacy/IVF is often not successful on the first attempt. It made me happy that so many people were celebrating and praying for our little Cheerio, and that made it easier for me to have hope even though my heart was rather hesitant. Everyone was extremely excited, and there I was thinking, "Okay... We'll see..."

Now I feel like everyone is in that hesitant camp with me -- which is something I totally and completely understand. My heart still hurts over the loss of Cheerio and the thought of possibly losing our very last embryo petrifies me.  But as before, we must try... so we move forward. 

I know many of you invested your whole heart into Cheerio and were completely devastated when we lost him. The pain is still very fresh for all of us. We're still wounded from that loss, hence the quietness. No one likes to get hurt. We put up walls and hold back our emotions even though we know it could still hurt in the end whether we allow ourselves to hope or not. Human minds/emotions are tricky like that.

A precious friend shared this beautiful thought with me the other day:

 "God works like that a lot... He's not found in the thunder and the lightning, but in the quiet whisper of the wind... and what if that's how He is working? Cheerio had so much fanfare... most of us were so sure Cheerio would join us here on earth... Maybe God's using the quietness of this transfer to show His glory... to bring Hummingbird to you and S... gentle, quiet whisper... "

I decided weeks ago that I would dub this little one "Hummingbird," so when my friend said that about the gentle, quiet whisper it gave me chills as I thought of the sound of a hummingbird's wings. I've been wanting to write a little note to this little one, but my heart hasn't been able to form the words. Without my asking her to, another precious friend (who is also a writer) wrote this for me and said I could share with all of you. She captured my heart perfectly.

-E

**tissue warning**

Dear Hummingbird,

Hello there, little one. It’s your Aunt Thelma here, sitting down for a few minutes to write you a few lines because I have some things I need to tell you. First off all, yes, you have an Aunt Thelma. The name’s not the best but I promise I’m the coolest. (Right after your Aunt D, of course, who I can’t even compete with.) I will always have candy, always be ready for a snuggle, and never be shy about telling you like it is, as long as you don’t sass me.

I know we’re a bit quiet around here, but please don’t interpret that to mean we’re not thinking about you every day. We all our… Daddy and Mommy are so in love with you, and even though their hearts are still aching from Cheerio joining your siblings in heaven, their hearts of full of wanting and aching for you. Mommy is wearing her necklace that reminds her of each of you, and while you won’t understand it now, it’s her way of telling the world she’s a mother with empty arms. And that is a deeply difficult thing to do in a world full of children, sweet Hummingbird. I know you don’t understand that right now, and one day we’ll probably have a long chat about that… likely when you’re a teenager giving me sass and thinking you know everything there is to know better than your parents.

Anyway, I just need you to know that you’re not alone or forgotten. Not in the least. There was a lot of fanfare around Cheerio… I know. We were all extremely excited. But don’t believe for a moment that we’re less excited now. We’re just… cautiously hopeful. Afraid of the potential of hurt. Hesitant of the kind of disappointment that opens the door of Heaven for you and the gateway back to grief for all of us. And again, I know you don’t understand all this, but one day, I really hope you will. Not because I wish disappointment and heartache on you, sweet one, but because there are so many of us wishing and longing to hold you on this side of grace, and we hope Heaven can do without you for a very, very long time.

Well, I’m crying now, little Hummingbird… that’s what we do sometimes when we think of and miss the ones we love. And well, I cry a lot. That’s just something you’ll have to learn to love about me.

So let me close by saying that things are going to change dramatically for you over the next while… it’s going to get warmer and brighter, and then warm and cosy and dark. When it gets dark, I want you to find the perfect spot… some place comfy and warm and just snuggle in. Can you do that for me? For all of us? Especially for Daddy and Mommy? I promise it will be worth it. So, so worth it.

Love,
Aunt Thelma