The Two Year Journey

August 17, 2014

The Wish Tree - Yoko Ono Exhibit

Guggenheim in Bilbao, Spain

This morning as I laid in bed before getting up, Facebook reminded me that two years ago today we were in Bilbao, Spain. We were wrapping up our first week in the northern part of the country, the Basque Country, wining our way around the Rioja region, then dining our way around San Sebastian.

We had a 24 hour stop in Bilbao before flying to the second half of our trip in Barcelona and Madrid. While there, we visited the intricately designed Frank Gherry Guggenheim Museum, which happened to have a visiting Yoko Ono exhibit. I'll tell you that woman is a trip, but when we weren't giggling or scratching our head in confusion, we stood peacefully at this Wish Tree. It was standing outside of her exhibit hall on the third floor in the open. The interactive piece encouraged visitors to take a tag and write their wish, then hang them on the olive tree. 

A few nights prior in Elciego, we had made a command decision that I talked about in one of my very first posts. We had been married a year and a half, still newlyweds, and full of things we wanted to see and do. We thought we had this large window of time before we decided to start a family someday, but as we enjoyed a Spanish sunset over the Pyrenees, toasting to our 30th birthdays, the conversation turned to discuss that desire for the "someday" to be now. We were eager, excited and ready to start our family.  

A few days later in Bilbao, we stood in front of this Wish Tree. We found tags and pens, each scribbling down our respective wishes, folding them and placing them on a branch. Before hanging it, I took a picture of my wish. Later that afternoon, as we walked around the outside of the museum, looking at the sculptures, we both confessed our wishes and they were the same. 

My Wishing Tree wish

I think back to that time so fondly. I look through the pictures on the rest of the album and our smiles are a bit bigger, our eyes are a bit brighter. It's like we had this secret and we couldn't wait to share it with everyone, whenever there was something to share. We had such a raw and pure happiness. Sometimes it is hard to see pictures of yourself from the before loss life. In the after loss life, you do learn to smile, laugh and be happy again, but it is just a bit different than before. Looking at these pictures, I can't help but feel emotional. There is a yearning for the pure happiness that didn't know the pain of what that road would look like for us. You never think you are going to be the one who struggles with becoming a parent, whether it's due to infertility, miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant death. You have these hopes and dreams for the happiest future, seamlessly procreating like those around you, not knowing what the road will hold. The fact that it won't go the way you think it will, and in some cases tragically wrong, is the farthest thought from your realm of understanding. 

I remember feeling silly for taking a picture of my wish, but I wanted to document that for us. I had to go through my computer files of the hundreds of pictures I took throughout those two weeks to find it, holding my breath that it would pop up. When it came up on the screen, I couldn't hold back. I stared at it for a while, with tears streaming down my face and then the sobs caught up.

It's been a rocky two year journey to get to this point and we are still holding our breath. 

These two years since have provided us with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. When we got home from this trip, it took us two more months to conceive Hudson that October. Sitting here today and reflecting on this trip, I am two months from October again, the month Hadley is supposed to join us. I'm angry we don't have him with us, as I will always believe we should. I'm anxious to get through another two months and fearful of the what if that lies between. I'm annoyed that there is, I guess you can call it, symbolism in this equation.

Those wishes are supposed to continue to hang on the olive tree as a permanent piece, even after the traveling exhibit is gone. I wonder if our wishes are still there, with now probably thousands of others, or if they were removed to make room for others. It is still our wish, and our prayer, as we continue on. We have one Baby Schlieve but he is not with us and our hearts ache to have him when we can't. All the while, we prepare our hearts with the joy and love of the little girl we anticipate and can't wait to have in our arms, take her home to become a family. The very thing that we have longed for these two years and counting.