A Burden Shared

A burden shared is a burden lessened.

This past weekend I shared my infertility burden with my grandparents. I've always been extremely close to them, there was even a short time when I was a kid that I spent all week with them and came home on the weekends. It didn't last very long, because my mother couldn't handle it, very few mothers could. But at the time my brother was in school and we couldn't afford childcare. It wasn't long til we moved to a piece of property adjacent to my grandparents. The only two houses at the end of a dead end road in the middle of woods and cow fields. Less than a 2 minute walk separated me from them on a daily basis. During the school year I spent the week at home and every possible hour of the weekend at Nana's house. During the summer my parents had to coax me back home. As an adult I visit every single weekend without fail for a several hour long card game.
My grandfather is an amazing 91 years old and is still the most incredible man I know. Until this past year this former californian was still chopping down trees. He walks probably a mile nearly everyday and just finished building, on his own, a shed for my grandmother who is 13 years younger than him. With a full head of white hair at the top of his six foot frame, it isn't too surprising that women my mother's age still hit on him! He taught me to swim, to bodysurf, to play poker, pool, and blackjack, shared his love of cats, let me stand on his toes to dance, bought me my first tent, boombox, alarm, and camped out with me in said tent more times than I can count. He used to sneak cookies up to me and my friends when it was well past midnight. In short he's always been my knight in shining armor.
My Nana is his exact opposite in so many ways. She's a diminutive woman, about 5'2" and country to the core. She has to be fixed up to go anywhere other than McDonald's for ice cream. Her house reminds me of Cracker Barrel and in fact she tells the story that she helped design the very first Cracker Barrel store. It's believable once you walk into the house she and her father built. She taught me to bake, to break eggs, to have an eye for decorating, to garden, and with her countless picture taking might have even inspired my photography.
These two people have been an integral part of my life from the beginning and yet they knew nothing about the struggle my husband and I have been dealing with. I did not realize until it was over how draining it had been keeping it from them. How hard it had been keeping the hurt inside, hiding the way a pregnancy announcement or baby talk made me feel. I thought I'd been pretty good at sheltering them from our situation. Until I talked to them. They both said that they had noticed I hadn't been my 'usual chipper happy self' for months now. Huh. I would never have described myself in that way. But they're right, I haven't been myself for quite a while. They were supportive and understanding. Happily suggesting adoption if it turns out we couldn't conceive. It makes me happy to know that if we need to go down that path to build our family that my entire immediate family will not only be comfortable with it but supportive. My Nana offered to help fundraise when we were ready, bake sales, yard sales, benefits, whatever we needed. My grandfather as usual injected some of his trademark humor into the conversation when I said that at the moment 'it would be a miracle if we conceived on our own'  He said and I quote ' If those darn catholics can do it with a virgin, there's hope for you too'.  We laughed til it was uncomfortable to laugh anymore and then played cards like nothing had changed. I shared my concerns that due to their age and the time involved in the infertility process that they might not get to meet any child I had. We decided to do a few recordings of them reading stories and sharing some of the little sayings and songs that I grew up with. I'm excited to have those things for the future. No matter what my child will know about them and know that even before s/he came along they were loved.
It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel like I can look forward again. I love not having to hide. It feels good to have their support in my corner and to know I have cheerleaders on my side. People who know how hard the journey was and how important and precious the destination is.