birds fly over the rainbow


pjs on.

teeth brushed.

we climbed into bed, i wrapped him in my arms. holding tight, relishing in my favorite part of the day. i sang him my nightly rendition of “somewhere over the rainbow”. he joined in humming the last verse, as he always does…

“somewhere over the rainbow

bluebirds fly.

birds fly over the rainbow

why then, oh why, can’t i?”

we folded our hands together. and said our prayers.

i started. “dear god, thank you for today.” he echo’d my words.

“thank you for mom and dad, my family, and friends.” the echoes continued.

“thank you for my home, and all my toys.” he giggled. and stressed his appreciation for his new star wars rally monkey stormtrooper.

as we wrapped up i encouraged him to speak from the heart… “and now this is the part where you talk to God and you can tell him whatever you want, good or bad, he will listen.”

i waited.

he thought for a moment and suddenly there were tears in his eyes.

“dear god…” his little hands folded so neatly, rising and falling with every breath from his chest. “when is my baby brother and sister coming? i really want them to come soon.”

knife meet heart.

tears streamed down my face now. i wiped them quickly so as not to let him know he effectively elicited the rawest of all nerves. i held him even closer and opened my mouth to reassure him and center him… and yet nothing came.

what do i say?“sweet baby, i’ve been asking god for this same thing for years”? there is no greater truth.

“God will answer us” do i say that? do i even believe that anymore?

i felt my heart rip from my ribs. and his sweet innocent face looked up at me, asking me with those eyes if i could magically make a child appear and fill his heart. if only he knew how badly i want the same thing. i cannot burden him with this pain. i dare not whisper a thing, do not let on at all. instead i stroked his hair away from his forehead, wiped the tear from his eye.

and lied to him.

“i know sweetie. i don’t know when they will come. only God knows.”

but i did know. we had those hard talks. we left it all on the table, cried all our tears, explored all the options. the truth is there is a possibility for a brother or sister. but it’s pretty much impossible. it’s completely out of our reach and purely for financial reasons. and with that, i had to lie to him. to protect him. and indirectly, me. the truth is we aren’t “done” trying, and yet to continue trying would bankrupt us. that a couple should be limited in realizing their dream for a family because of their bank account is a tragedy. i joke that i should quit my job, get on food stamps, do drugs etc and i will suddenly find myself pregnant. because it sure as sh*t seems that those people are the ones having all the babies. not the stable loving family who is barren and yearns for nothing more than completing their family. nope. i am anger. and sadness. all at once. and in his eyes i am responsible. and he is right.

so that’s it, our hearts cannot say “enough”. and yet we very well may be forced to give up the dream for good in the very near future. this is a torment i wish on no one. i can work my hands to the bone and achieve whatever my mind sets itself to, and yet with this, i will never reach the finish line without a miracle. it’s beyond devastating and infuriating, simultaneously. i don’t know what else to write. my heart has broken a little more tonight, when i was sure it was already shattered beyond repair. to see your child experiencing a sliver of this pain, it’s unbearable. he has no idea this struggle, this level of despair, and he shouldn’t. but he looks at me like i’m the one holding all the cards. like i can change things at a whim.

“i want them more than you know, my sweet boy.” and that’s no lie.

and i kissed his forehead, breathed him in, and held him even tighter. please stop crying.

i folded my hands. and prayed a silent prayer. “dear God, please make this pain stop. it comes on like wildfire, and i’m never ready for it when it arrives. tonight… right now, it’s too much. and it’s not fair to pass this pain to him. unleash it all on me. but not him.”

i see the rainbow. it’s a million miles away from here. completely unreachable.

how i long to be a bird and fly away from this.

i am undone tonight.

10 thoughts on “birds fly over the rainbow

  1. I love you. I get it. So often their questions hurt the most because they say the things out loud that we lay awake thinking about. Please know I’m here, and I’ll always have your back.


    1. Jodee, I read your update. I hear you. I know there is nothing that I can say yet know that I pray for you all the time. I am so glad that you are his Mom. I miss seeing you every Tuesday evening though glad to have graduated. Hugs, Cara


  2. Jodee, I found your blog a while ago, when I was searching for people who might understand the pain I’ve gone thru the last four years. I had a night very similar to yours last night, with my eyes still swollen from crying. Our son is almost 6 and i just had my 6th early mc. I think we are done even though my heart isn’t. Praying for your strength…and mine this morning.


    1. my heart goes out to you too michelle. as time goes on i still find the pain of infertility rearing its ugly head even in the most innocent of situations. not sure it will ever truly end. i wish one day it will be more like a nagging hangnail rather than the gutpunch it feels like now.


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