At some point, early on in our relationship, Morrison and I were discussing something that I of course can’t recall. It went something like:
Morrison: I’m loving how easy this element of our combined life and / or relationship is.
Me: Yeah but sometimes, it has to be Hard.
And ever since, he likes to repeat my own words back to me, when it in fact gets Hard, because of course, sometimes it does. I think what I was trying to say is that I didn’t want to feel like we were just in a relationship because it was easy. I wanted us to choose to be together, despite the Hard stuff. And for the last year, there has been some Hard stuff. I mean, also the good stuff, like there is House and Family and Most Perfect Cat, there are blessings of Intellect, Careers, Curiosity, and Christmas Lights, and good lord, don’t get me started on microwavable breakfast sausage. But also: we want to be parents, and we are not. (YET.) And that has been Hard. Not knowing why not has been Hard, waiting has been Hard, watching it happen for other people has been Hard. Yesterday, I underwent a (very routine) procedure (that I will try very hard not to be overdramatic about) to correct some issues that turns out have been, well, making it Hard for us to conceive (THANK YOU, SCIENCE. MEDICINE? SCIENCE. I DON’T KNOW. I WRITE PLAYS.) And now, on the other side of it, we’re hopeful that 2019 will make us parents, rob us of sleep, turn our home into a teething ring, and other beautifully Hard things that I will surely complain about, PERHAPS EVEN HERE. And I really can’t wait for that Hard stuff. Because, I mean, a wise Bekah once said, not really realizing what she was saying, or that it would echo through her heart for years to come: IT HAS TO BE HARD. I know for a fact that whenever a small person takes over my body and subsequently, our home, I will appreciate it harder, because it was Hard. So I’m just going to focus, Hard, on that fact.