He’s my lesson in patience and faith. My teacher of Letting Go.
After 2 ½ years of trying to conceive him, trying to create that family I craved, I left the fertility clinic and finally, finally just let go. No more. It was too much. I didn’t want to start “The Shots,” and I was exhausted from the incessant “why me’s” and “it’s not fair’s” that had ping-ponged in my brain for so long. I was tired of countless plastic sticks void of a double plus sign. I drove away that day metaphorically throwing my hands up in surrender. Impatience, fear, shame, resentment – I handed it all over.
One month later: double plus signs.
Now, after 17 years, he’s still my teacher. His voice has grown deep. He shaves. He asks to drive two hours away to the beach with his friends, sending my anxiety into code red and starting new ping-pong thoughts. He asks girls on dates. He rolls his eyes and gets surly. He tests my patience.
He's pulling away. Or, maybe he’s simply teaching me, once more, how powerful it is to just…Let Go.