I am a firm believer in the power of travel, and by travel, I mean going somewhere unfamiliar and different and new. In my experience, travelling provides a perspective on your life at home that cannot be gained until life in someone else's home is examined. Travelling has a way of minimizing the trivial parts of the world that we experience each day, and a way of magnifying the parts of our lives that remain significant even thousands of miles away.
Keeping in mind my personal opinion on the value of going places, I put a lot of pressure on our most recent trip to St. John. I was somewhat familiar with St. John. I had even been there before; nonetheless, for whatever reason, I was really hopeful that a week in a Caribbean paradise would yield a new perspective on my upcoming surgery and our recent reproduction issues. I hoped that enough clear water and sunny skies would somehow change my current situation or at least change the way I thought about my current situation. I was hopeful that there was some moment of clarity and acceptance still waiting to envelope me that just happen to be hiding in a perfect sunset over the beach or on the side of a cliff overlooking the ocean. I just knew getting away from all of this would make it a little easier or a little less scary or a little less like a ticking clock constantly reminding me that what I've got right now simply isn't cutting it.
St. John was great. There were lots of pretty sunsets and gorgeous views of the ocean. There was lots of time to reflect and talk with Cody about our lives. There was sand between our toes and water in our ears and a salty taste that lingered for days. And yet, at the end of the trip there was nothing new to replace the thoughts and fears that I held tight when I first stepped on that plane in Ft. Smith. All of the worry and anxiety and frustration about my lack of ovulation and this upcoming surgery proved to be quite the travelling companions as we all made our way back home from our tropical getaway.
On the plane ride home from Atlanta after enduring a five hour delay that resulted in our final flight of the day taking off at about midnight, I had simply had enough. I finally admitted what I probably didn't want to admit throughout the entire vacation, which is the unfortunate truth that my current baby battles are one of the significant things in my life that travelling served to magnify rather than minimize. There I was on the last row of a too small plane with my head wedged against a smudgy window listening to depressing music and wondering what revelation I'll be searching for on summer vacation next year...and eventually accepting that there is a very real chance that my next vacation will be very similar to the one I was ending. Unfortunately or perhaps fortunately, I suppose the most significant experiences in our lives not only can span oceans and continents, but maybe years too.
As it turns out that was my moment of clarity that was hiding in the early morning hours of a flight home rather than a beautiful sunset on a beach somewhere.
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