I’ve got a few blog posts on the back burner – things I started writing but got interrupted by one of a million things like AF, massive headaches or, you know, the munchies.
But I don’t have all that much to say today. I’m feeling somewhat frustrated and annoyed that my headache is still there – albeit less forcefully so than yesterday and the day before. AF is playing her usual fake-out game where I have hours of “mmm maybe it’s done now” – but then it’s really not. I’m still in pain, I’m still grumpy, and now I have a muscle in my back that keeps twitching like it’s trying out for the Olympics in the category of Most Annoying Body Tick You Can’t Ignore.
None of these things are what’s moving me to write this post today at all.
I was feeling hungry but too impatient to wait for the food I’m making, so I asked DH if he would share a glass of chocolate milk with me. It’s this little ritual we have – we’re both like kids still when it comes to these things 🙂 We normally buy Horizon Organic milk and, when they have it, the chocolate milk as well. But they didn’t have it last time I went to the store so, sometimes, I also buy Organic Valley chocolate milk. I don’t drink it all the time because, strangely enough, I have to be in the mood for it – strange because I normally go all Cookie Monster when I see anything remotely chocolatey.
I took one sip and felt a wave of nostalgia wash over me – Holy Batman, it tastes like the past! The good kind where there’s shiny stickers, erasers in the shape of food and where Chuck E. Cheese’s isn’t lame but the coolest place to jump into a pool of plastic balls because, omg, it’s so much fun! I grin from ear to ear as my own personal cut-away goes down memory lane to summer vacations and ice cold chocolate milk. It’s amazing that, to me, what I’m drinking tastes exactly the same – in my mind – as what I got as a kid many, many moons ago. DH isn’t a fan – he likes the Horizon one better because, according to him, it tastes more like chocolate whereas the Organic Valley one tastes like a candy bar. Did you say liquid candy bar? GIMME!!
For a moment in time I melt away into dreamland – where I reminisce about amusement parks, swimming in a pool all day without worrying about skin cancer and having the kind of hair I’d kill to still have now. For a few fleeting minutes, I forget about infertility. I forget about death. I forget about the aching in my heart because I’m just reminiscing about what it was like when I was a child.
Gradually, though, the present encroaches on my reverie and I feel a little sad as I wonder if we’ll ever be able to share our little “ritual” with our own children. I wonder if we’ll have summer vacations with gleeful cries of excitement, little bodies propelling themselves onto our shoulder, into our arms, to be launched into the air or toweled off after a long day at the beach. I wonder if I’ll ever have that warm fuzzy feeling of knowing unconditional love for the little miracle that 1+1 made in the storied version of procreation – our love so strong it created another person.
I have to believe that it’ll happen for us, one day. I have to believe that we’re not meant to leave our hopes and dreams behind us, that all we have to give will never find a child to heap our love and devotion onto.
But for now, I’ll just smile through the tears and keep thinking about what a wonderful trip down Childhood Lane a simply sip of chocolate milk was able to generate…