Momotaro is a popular hero from Japanese folklore, and the story about him goes something like this: Once upon a time there was an old woman and an old man who longed for a child but were never able to have one. One day, the old woman went down to the river to wash clothes, when she noticed a giant peach floating down the river. She took the peach and brought it home, so she and her husband could eat it for dessert. Just as the husband was about to cut open the peach, a naked baby boy burst out of it. They named him Momotaro (Peach Boy), and loved him and raised him as their own, knowing he had been sent from heaven. Momotaro went on to be a great hero, gaining animal friends through his generosity, and fighting off ogres and demons to save his town.
I loved this story as a child and have been thinking about it a lot lately. Yesterday, Noah and I officially closed the chapter on "trying naturally for six more months" before starting to prepare for the embryo adoption transfer. I'm never shocked when my cycle starts, but I did think that maybe this would be the month that a miracle happened, just before we were about to adopt. You hear those stories all the time, but it's not our story.
Our story continues. Our miracle is still up ahead. I started birth control last night and had a frantic day yeasterday of trying to figure out my schedule with the nurse and looking up best prices for meds...blah blah blah. I had a nice six month break away from all the hormone induced madness and now I'm suiting up and heading right back in.
When I saw I had in fact gotten my period, the usual feelings of sad and disappointment flooded the space around my heart. It just gets tight in my chest and taking a breath feels...harder. I looked at Noah and felt so sad that I can't make a baby with him, but then I shifted my focus. We have a little Momotaro sitting in a freezer, in the dark, in another state, who needs us to come and save him. I don't want the energy that goes into this next step of our process to be overshadowded by sadness and dread and fear. I want to have an open heart and an open mind to be able to embrace our next process fully so that our embryo--our potential baby-- can be received with open arms.
I have to separate the frustration and exhaustion that surrounds the process of preparing for the embryo from the embryo itself. The process is a nightmare. Going back on Lupron in a few weeks is the worst. Injecting progesterone oil into my butt? No thanks. All with no guarantee?? Ugh. But these are the steps I have to take. So I'll take them. And I'll complain about them. And I'll get through them, one at a time. Remembering all the way that our baby, our Momotaro, is waiting for us.