Gray space

For a few years, during the hardest part of infertility and after, I couldn't enjoy kids.  It was just too painful.  Of course I slapped a smile on my face and pretended to enjoy myself, but really it was a lie. But that seems to be changing.

My middle niece, my youngest sister's middle daughter, is special to me.  She's nearly four now.  I was there when she was born.  I held her before either of her parents.  She's a really cool kid.  She's loud, busy, adventurous, uncoordinated, and sharp as a tack.  She's always been drawn to me.

Not surprisingly she was a source of great pain too.  An ever present reminder of everything we didn't (and later found out that we couldn't) have.  She was conceived right around the time I was starting to worry that having a baby wouldn't be as easy as tossing birth control.

When we did Christmas with my family I got to spend a lot of time with this particular niece.  She and I are both early risers.  On our last morning there, I was up before anyone else in the house.  She must have heard me, so she got up too.  We made breakfast together, apple pie and toasted cheese sandwiches, her choice*.   After breakfast we cuddled up in the recliner and read a few books together.  We spent at least an hour together before anyone else woke up.

I absolutely cherished this experience.  It felt so special to me, and I think to her too.  But it also left me longing for a little boy or girl of my own to cuddle.  Definitely a weird gray space of where I held happiness and longing at the same time.

The takeaway is that I'm having an easier time being around kids and enjoying it, and that makes me happy.

*When you're an aunt, you get the discretion to feed nieces and nephews whatever they want, so naturally apple pie was a perfectly acceptable breakfast choice.