Sometimes people wrong us, and in the process, they steal something from us that's very precious. Thankfully it's not always like that, but life can get pretty messy sometimes. It can be tempting to just gloss over that loss and not really acknowledge it. It may even feel like you are forgiving the person if you do that. But this is just a form of denial, and it's not healthy.
Before this year is over, 10 babies will have been born in my former church congregation. At age 34 I'm very aware that I'll never be a mother unless I happen to remarry and the man has kids already. And if I'm ever a step-mom, my hypothetical stepkids will probably be in their teens at least, because this certainly wouldn't be happening soon. Now those who know me well know that I've never longed to be a mother like a lot of women. No baby fever for me. But to have that choice taken away? Well, I guess you can say I still had a choice. But how could I choose to bring an innocent child into our home???
Then there is the fact that I may never remarry. Actually, I doubt I will. How could I ever trust again so completely? How could I let myself be that vulnerable to someone? And why would I want to?
None of it is fair. And I have to somehow accept that. I have friends who have happy marriages and adorable children and even homes of their own. And I don't begrudge them that at all. I'm happy for them. But sometimes it's hard to know what to do with the fact that I'm the one whose dreams were shattered, along with my heart.
I think grieving those things is part of the process. I can't stay there, but it's a necessary step in the right direction. I can't just skip over it and pretend that nothing was taken from me and nothing hurts. And you know what? I'll be OK, even though my life turned out differently than I would have chosen.
Before this year is over, 10 babies will have been born in my former church congregation. At age 34 I'm very aware that I'll never be a mother unless I happen to remarry and the man has kids already. And if I'm ever a step-mom, my hypothetical stepkids will probably be in their teens at least, because this certainly wouldn't be happening soon. Now those who know me well know that I've never longed to be a mother like a lot of women. No baby fever for me. But to have that choice taken away? Well, I guess you can say I still had a choice. But how could I choose to bring an innocent child into our home???
Then there is the fact that I may never remarry. Actually, I doubt I will. How could I ever trust again so completely? How could I let myself be that vulnerable to someone? And why would I want to?
None of it is fair. And I have to somehow accept that. I have friends who have happy marriages and adorable children and even homes of their own. And I don't begrudge them that at all. I'm happy for them. But sometimes it's hard to know what to do with the fact that I'm the one whose dreams were shattered, along with my heart.
I think grieving those things is part of the process. I can't stay there, but it's a necessary step in the right direction. I can't just skip over it and pretend that nothing was taken from me and nothing hurts. And you know what? I'll be OK, even though my life turned out differently than I would have chosen.
I understand your grief, and the fact that your grief is still very raw. And that at the present moment, you can't see very far ahead. That's okay because you need some time to heal.
ReplyDeleteTrue, babies are being born right and left- a fact that makes me feel almost ancient. In fact I have a new grand baby. Okay, you're 34; this is not prophetic by any stretch of the imagination, but it could be you have a few more child-bearing years. The Lord may surprise you and allow any given set of circumstances to make what seems impossible, possible.
I have biological kids, an adopted son, and step kids. They are all different, but it turns out to be a good blend of family. I wouldn't cross any of these possibilities off your list just yet. Or remarriage.
I am well acquainted with shattered dreams and grief in its ugliest form. I stay in the dark tunnel of grief much of the time, but I'm trying to emerge and take a look around. I'm the one with the squinted eyes.
I see others like me who, in my opinion, were too quick to give up and "accept" aloneness. I don't feel it is my place to ask them if they are truly happy in their state. Perhaps they have simply learned to be content but deep down would rather find that Godly mate.
God knows where you are. I'm sure you are trying to find your bearings while analyzing the past. We can't see it in the fog of distress, but someone told me that this is when God is carrying us (footprints in the sand). I'm crying out that it's unfair, it is hard, and help my unbelief. It is more difficult to trust once you've been hurt.
Things like divorce and death rock our worlds to the core. It takes time to sort through the devastation and to salvage whatever we can of what's left. Rebuilding is a process, but we persevere brick by brick. Hopefully we will come out stronger than before.
Thank you for leaving another great comment. :-)
DeleteI know I'm not too old biologically to have children. But just suppose I were to remarry 3 years from now. I would be 37. I don't want to START a family at 38. I know others are perfectly fine with that idea, but I always wanted to have my children in my 20's, definitely by 35. Foster care could be an option, or possibly adopting a little bit older child.
God has my future figured out, and I'm content to focus on things like my next job right now.
I've thought about the Footprints in the Sand at times, and I know that God has definitely carried me at times when I couldn't take another step on my own! I'm glad I have Him.
We grieve over a lot of things, including lost opportunities. In the song THE ANCHOR HOLDS, the lyrics speak about our dreams slipping through our fingers or hands like grains of sand (I can't remember the exact words, but they are good).
ReplyDeleteWe expect life to go a certain way; my sister-in-law used to say she liked things to go smoothly. Don't we all? Someone else said that when the wind starts blowing, she adjusts her sails.
I was 40 when we adopted Jeff; Sam was 48. We were foster parents, and Jeffrey was our second foster child. I don't regret it, but it is easier to start out in your twenties or early thirties. But then I couldn't see ahead or possibly know that Sam would have that heart attack and leave me to raise a 16 year old.
It would be nice to see down the road a ways and catch a glimpse of our futures, but then again, maybe not. So in the meantime, we take one day at a time and do the best we can for that day. Worse than being single would be to rush into something and botch things up. I'm speaking for myself. However, it would be nice to have some options and not be judged.
I have tried so hard to move back to the Midwest, but it may not happen this year, or at all. Sometimes God puts roadblocks in our paths. I will have to be content with an extended visit for now.
You'll do fine, and when you visit on Sunday, be sure to hold all those babies.