It was the end of 2012 and we were still living in Beijing, China, but with everything ready to move back to Scandinavia: work contract signed, apartment rented, air plane tickets bought and all our stuff packed up and ready to be shipped across the ocean.
We were excited to be coming back and ready to leave that two-year adventure behind and start a new one: a family. I’ve already been looking at houses and station wagons for sale and had started taking folic acid supplements, so the next logical step was to stop taking the birth control pill.
Arriving here, just before Christmas, there was so much snow everywhere it made everything a little more hectic; yet the purity and silence of fresh snow matched perfectly the idea of a new beginning.
Those first months were nothing but crazy: new jobs, looking for a house and a car, discussing loans with banks, insurances, buying furniture, unpacking… There was little time to worry about not getting pregnant, though it didn’t stop the disappointment of getting my period every month.
By April, we were settled on our new 4 bedroom house with a big backyard, furnished and decorated, ready for this family to get started, but without a pregnancy in sight. My periods were just getting longer and longer every month and already reaching 40 days. That was the time I started worrying whether I was even ovulating and decided to see a doctor for advice.
This is how our journey to parenthood started. In November 2013 followed the first pregnancy and first loss, with such raw emotions that can only be lived once.
Today, over three years after those dreams started to materialize, I found myself in the same, yet new, situation: same house, empty ‘baby room’; same grassy backyard without flowers; same car, without a baby seat; same employer, same job; same marriage.
The future I had envisioned when dreaming of returning to Europe was another; one with a beautiful crib in the next door room to ours, with a doll house in the garden, with toddler laughter and Lego pieces all over the floor, with lazy Saturday mornings of cuddles in bed and pancakes for breakfast.
As my old friend insomnia makes herself comfortable in my bed again, I search for books to keep me company during these too early hours of the day and run into “The Book of Disquiet”, from the great writer and poet Fernando Pessoa. Considering purchasing it, I find a passage that seems to describe this moment in my life so perfectly:
[Life is] the waking insomnia of [our] dreams.
Laying awake in bed or fulfilling my duties at work, I’m only truly waiting; anxiously counting the days and years as the insomniac counts the hours; hoping I can soon return to where I really want to be: in my dreams. Those dreams I still hold on to since 2012.
Will somebody help me fall sleep?