Trigger Warning: Talk of littles and memories, dark days and grief…
At the beginning of the month, I challenged us to not simply survive May, but to thrive this month by redefining. So far, the six blogs I’ve published have focused on looking at things with a different perspective, finding our strength and empowerment, embracing our non-traditional families and celebrations… Personally, I had a beautiful May 12th, holding my dog mom and host mom roles in high esteem. And then, there was a wobble . . .
The following weekend, as we cleaned out our storage building, I came across a small, red bucket filled with toy tools to use when building a sandcastle. The heartache was immediate, and the tears followed just moments later. In my mind, I pictured the moment. Jennifer and her little were visiting, and the three of us were spending the day at the beach (one of Jennifer’s favorite places in the world). I had purchased this small bucket of toys so that we could build a sandcastle together. And we were doing just that. We were all so happy…
I miss my friend more than words can express. And just when I think I’m past the worst of the grief, that pain surfaces again…
The following day was our youngest niece’s 13th birthday. As I looked through old photos so that I could make her birthday collage, I remembered the dark days…
You see, our youngest niece was born just days after the surgery that diagnosed my endometriosis. During her first months on this earth, I was going through medical menopause, full of hot flashes, horrific headaches, and awful mood swings. I thought putting my body through that torture would be worth it, as one day, my hubby and I would have a baby. But that was not to be…
As I sat in my chair, trying to focus on the joy and all the beautiful moments I have had with my amazing niece, I battled one of those horrific headaches and got pretty darn hot, too. And my ever-observant hubby said, “I think this is hormone related.” Now, this wasn’t a rude comment on his part. It was actually his way of trying to help me understand why I felt the way I did. And it did help.
I’m no longer in medical menopause. Now, I’m in actual menopause. Yes, at age 42, I’m going through “the change.” Knowing that things are going on inside my body that I really can’t control allowed me to give myself a bit of grace as I battled emotions, the worst of which is doubt…
This month, I didn’t doubt that I am a mom. Albeit a non-traditional one, I’ve fully accepted that my dog mom and host mom roles make me a real mom. Unfortunately, I still sometimes doubt my aunt role…
Did I solidify our relationship before we moved halfway across the country? What changes will happen as our nieces and nephew grow from teenagers to adults to having families of their own? Will I be able to keep my joy? How many more wobbles will I have to endure?
Recently, a Not So Mommy… community member said that she doesn’t believe she is “healed,” in reference to her childlessness. And you know what? I don’t think I am fully “healed” either. Probably never will be. Because this journey is ever changing, I imagine I will be redefining for the rest of my life…
So, today, I’m going to be gentle with myself, as I work through this wobble.
I’m going to find one of my favorite photos of me, Jennifer, and her little (whom I claim as one of my nephews) and print it and frame it and figure out which one of the little toys I can place next to it…
I’m going to focus on the sweet text and love my youngest niece sent and quit allowing doubt to cause me to question my relationship with her and her sisters…
And the pain that I feel over “abandoning” my family because I moved and created a new chapter in my life… Well, I’m going to remember that love can cross miles. And doing what needed to be done so that Dane and I could move forward, leaving our infertility battle behind, and creating a new life for ourselves… Well, it’s okay that we did that. I shouldn’t feel guilty for building a life that fits us…
So, if you find yourself in the midst of a wobble, just let it happen. (I’ve had quiet tears streaming down my cheeks nearly the entire time I’ve been writing this blog…) A wobble doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t mean you aren’t as far along on your journey as you thought. It isn’t negative or bad or silly.
A wobble just means you are human, trying to navigate complex emotions. It shows that you have the capacity to love deeply and feel profoundly. Actually, allowing yourself to wobble might just be one of the strongest things that you can do…
Fabulous one, if anything I wrote resonates with you, please tell us about it in the comments.
You may also want to read, “Feelings: From the Perspective of a Childless Woman.”
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4 comments
Thanks for sharing! My take on grief is that it never goes away, but you learn more and more as you go down the path of it, how to live with it. For me, acknowledging that you are forever changed after a loss seems to help. I can truly relate to what you wrote about your niece’s birth also. The power of “association” is SO very strong – and what was going on at the time of painful events can so easily resurface. 🙁 That’s a tough one. Be gentle on yourself on the hard days and remember all the people in your life who love you!!
Thank you for these sweet, affirming words, Rachel! Your perspective of being “forever changed after loss” helps me, as well. So many hugs…
I remember first finding your blog and it was about a wobble. The word so resonated with me and I use it all the time. I find it so forgiving and gentle. I love how you write that wobbles are one of the strongest things we can do. You do not push down the emotions and smile like all is okay. You have to work through them, acknowledge they are there, taking time to feel whole again. You are so brave to share.
Sometimes I wonder if we work through the hard stuff with the goal of coming our the other side, we really want to be healed or over it. Is healed the right word to define where we end up? I googled synonyms for” healed” and did not really like any of the choices. I am not sure of the answer, just some thoughts I had swirling in my head.
Thanks for ALL you do!!!
Thank you so much for sharing your heart, Karen. I borrowed the word “wobble” from our friends across the pond. I love that you call it “forgiving and gentle.” What a beautiful way to describe it… I also love that you wonder if we are looking to be “healed.” I believe words have power and have struggled with what the “end result” is with regards to accepting and embracing childlessness. Like you, I’m still searching and working through it all. I love the open dialogue here and the beautiful perspectives offered by fabulous ladies like yourself! Hugs!