Not much to say so have been hunkered down, quiet. Hopefully it's a sign of healing, rather than moping.
I survived the past weekend's baptism and my friends were very sensitive, which was much appreciated. Nothing about my situation mentioned, which was just fine. At one point, my friend R. quietly turned to me and said that she knew there were many reasons why I might not have wanted to/been able to come, including the recent surgery, my dissertation deadlines, as well as my own struggles to conceive. She told me how much she appreciated my presence and how she knew it was probably not easy to be there. Then she said it would have been ok if I'd had to say I couldn't come. That she would have understood. I thanked her and assured her I wanted to be there and then we let the subject pass. It was lovely that she acknowledged it. And I was thrilled she didn't dwell on it.
I held her daughter throughout the weekend, feeding her, burping her, soothing her. And sometimes I'd look in her eyes and she, all 2 1/2 months of her, would stare back, and I'd wonder: Could I love you? If R. gave you to me at the end of this weekend, could I love you like you were my own? Maybe. And if I could, then, could I love an adopted child? Maybe. Not sure. But maybe.
Since I've gotten back, I've been immersed in trying to get this dissertation moving. Between that and the fact that I'm not sure what to say about infertility these days, you may not hear so much from me in the next little while. But I'm here. Results section of my dissertation is due on Monday. I have another co-culture biopsy on Tuesday. Discussion section (not yet started) is due on Friday.
I am quiet but I'm here. Hope to surface again soon, on a number of levels.