Leaves, Ships, Notes, Tears

This last week has been sort of blah physically and emotionally. I have been
feeling down about many things, missing Peyton, the SIF, and generally just not
feeling great. Today AF decided to stop by after a three month hiatus, and
that, I guess, explains some of why I am feeling how I am feeling. Her arrival
used to signal another opportunity to try. Now, knowing I am not ovulating on my
own, the blush has sort of fallen off that rose.

I find myself really missing Peyton right now. I don't know if it is the
season (which, because of its raw beauty here in the northeast has always been
my favorite) the impending arrival of my new nephew next month, or just this
overwhelming feeling that my own dreams for a family are getting further and
further out of reach, but whatever the cause, I am hurting.

I find I am
at a place now where I sort of keep my "break downs" to myself,
allowing the fears and sadness to envelop my thoughts, all while keeping a
straight face for the benefit of those around me. It’s exhausting to have to pretend, but worse always
feeling vulnerable and exposed.

The sense that I no longer have a place, among either those who have
children, or those who have never had children, is overwhelming. Even this
community, which has been such a safe haven of understanding for me, seems recently to be brimming with news of impending rainbow babies, and while my
prayers, love and heart do go out to my dear friends at this happy news, (believe me I have not lost sight of the suffering and loss they have endured to get there), my heartache at being left
out is growing. I am stuck in the sand, watching their ships sail off into the sunset,
and begging from the shoreline for someone to stay with me, to cry with me, to
hold my hand. I want my ticket off this island.

On my way to visit Peyton's grave yesterday I started talking to her in the
car. I do this sometimes, when I am really missing her, or see something that I would have showed her as mothers do. Yesterday it was the Technicolor landscape of Fall, the way the leaves, en route to her grave, reflected in our local river. I so wish she was here to share these moments with. It’s like I see
these things, and my heart starts to swell, and then the wave of grief comes
over me, and where there was color and beauty, I am left deflated among twigs and brown bare branches.

Reaching her site I found a marker in hub’s car and penned a note/poem on a
yellow napkin. I meant to leave it, but realized this morning that I had not. Today
it's raining and once I publish this post, I am going to make my way, note in hand,
back up to her. I am hoping the wetness of the day will melt the napkin, delivering
it into the earth to be with her. The note read:

Can you hear me?

The way I talk to
you on drives

sharing the beauty
all around me,

or try to teach you
about this world,

the things a mother
should teach her child?

Look, I say, Look
Peyton,

at those leaves,
how they glow with orange, red and yellow hues in the sun's light.

How different life would be if you were here, in the backseat, smiling.

Would I even know
what I had?

How precious a gift
you were, or how lucky your safe arrival in my arms made me?

I am speaking to
you Peyton,

I feel like you are
listening.

But, maybe you aren't there.

Maybe your crazy
mother is trying too hard to find a sign where there is none,

or to believe what
her heart wants.

It doesn’t matter.

I go on teaching
you just the same.

Talking just the
same.

Loving just the
same.

Sharing just the
same as if you were here with me.

Your life ended with
the fall of last year’s Autumn leaves.

My love for
you did not.