It's Christmas time. DJ and I were just pulling out some decorations for the house this morning. It's snowing out, and we're headed over to our neighbor's for an open house in a little bit. As we decorate the house, DJ and I are going back and forth between other activities: she with finding every Khan Academy YouTube video she can find on physics (she's had a change in career plans) and I with watching "Father of the Bride II."
It's kind of a cheesy movie but it held my attention because I like Steve Martin and Martin Short is hilarious as the gay interior designer. The movie proceeds to where the daughter is going into labor with the first grandchild. It hits me like a ton of bricks that DJ will not experience this aspect of womanhood and motherhood, despite the fact that she may very much want to; nor will I be able to be there with her as she experiences this, which I know I very much want to.
I wasn't one of those women who treasured her pregnancies. They were all a means to an end to me. And while giving birth was one of the toughest moments of my life, it was amazing going through it. Since that time, I've been fortunate enough to assist a friend as she gave birth and I've been very lucky to be part of other women's birthing processes. I cry nearly every time out of wonder and joy. Connecting with women as they get to the transition phase of labor has always been so meaningful to me. It turns out I am a good coach and I feel honored to be able to assist by offering them emotional and physical comfort and support.
Five years ago, I knew I would likely not be part of a daughter-in-law's birthing process as she might want her mother there. But after DJ came out, I started to realize that I wanted all those rights of passage that moms of daughters get to have, if their daughters choose the path of motherhood AND are fortunate enough to go through the "old fashioned" path of becoming a mother. But we've been so busy with loving our daughter in the here and now, that the future is not always uppermost in our minds.
So, I'm watching this cheesy movie and truly, it hits me like a ton of bricks: she won't be able to experience this aspect of motherhood and I won't be able to experience it with her. The unfairness and sadness was so acute, my eyes immediately filled with tears and my throat was aching. I pulled Bulldog into our room because I felt like I needed to share it or it would never go away.
He, of course, wanted to fix me by reminding me of what may still be possible for DJ and I don't disagree. She is very likely to be a mother if she chooses; she may find a lovely woman to share her life with who will give birth to their child, but what Bulldog doesn't understand is a concept that women who can't get pregnant and give birth will understand completely. We can always be thankful for what we have, and we're allowed to grieve what we may not have, as well; not instead of, necessarily, but in addition to.
I won't share this with DJ. It would serve no purpose whatsoever. If and when she experiences this sense of loss, Bulldog and I will help her through it. I'll just get my experience of loss over with now so I can be there for her if and when she experiences her own sense of loss. Still, right, wrong or indifferent, childish or not.....it's still so unfair, once again.
It's kind of a cheesy movie but it held my attention because I like Steve Martin and Martin Short is hilarious as the gay interior designer. The movie proceeds to where the daughter is going into labor with the first grandchild. It hits me like a ton of bricks that DJ will not experience this aspect of womanhood and motherhood, despite the fact that she may very much want to; nor will I be able to be there with her as she experiences this, which I know I very much want to.
I wasn't one of those women who treasured her pregnancies. They were all a means to an end to me. And while giving birth was one of the toughest moments of my life, it was amazing going through it. Since that time, I've been fortunate enough to assist a friend as she gave birth and I've been very lucky to be part of other women's birthing processes. I cry nearly every time out of wonder and joy. Connecting with women as they get to the transition phase of labor has always been so meaningful to me. It turns out I am a good coach and I feel honored to be able to assist by offering them emotional and physical comfort and support.
Five years ago, I knew I would likely not be part of a daughter-in-law's birthing process as she might want her mother there. But after DJ came out, I started to realize that I wanted all those rights of passage that moms of daughters get to have, if their daughters choose the path of motherhood AND are fortunate enough to go through the "old fashioned" path of becoming a mother. But we've been so busy with loving our daughter in the here and now, that the future is not always uppermost in our minds.
So, I'm watching this cheesy movie and truly, it hits me like a ton of bricks: she won't be able to experience this aspect of motherhood and I won't be able to experience it with her. The unfairness and sadness was so acute, my eyes immediately filled with tears and my throat was aching. I pulled Bulldog into our room because I felt like I needed to share it or it would never go away.
He, of course, wanted to fix me by reminding me of what may still be possible for DJ and I don't disagree. She is very likely to be a mother if she chooses; she may find a lovely woman to share her life with who will give birth to their child, but what Bulldog doesn't understand is a concept that women who can't get pregnant and give birth will understand completely. We can always be thankful for what we have, and we're allowed to grieve what we may not have, as well; not instead of, necessarily, but in addition to.
I won't share this with DJ. It would serve no purpose whatsoever. If and when she experiences this sense of loss, Bulldog and I will help her through it. I'll just get my experience of loss over with now so I can be there for her if and when she experiences her own sense of loss. Still, right, wrong or indifferent, childish or not.....it's still so unfair, once again.
What's difficult is seeing all the women around you go through it, knowing you'll never.
ReplyDeleteHaving a beautiful boyfriend and seeing how great he is with his nieces and nephews, and seeing him watch all his friends as they marvel at their new found fatherhood and at the woman who made it possible for them, and KNOWING that you are the problem.
He tries to make it ok for me (bless him) but it's not and I often hide from everyone and cry.
And cry myself to sleep.
Why not me?
I'd respect it so much more than most women seem to these days.
There is no good reason for "why not me." None. But you are not a, or the, problem for your boyfriend. He likely marvels at you for the woman you are and will likely marvel at you for the mother you'll be, regardless of the fact that you have to pursue having a child another way. It's the wonder of parenting that is the most wonderful.
ReplyDeleteOnce you have your child, most, if not nearly all, of this will fall away. You will likely cherish your child in a way that only those who had to fight harder for their children can know. When you feel those little arms wrap tightly around your neck, wanting only you, little else will matter, I believe. I hope you find a way to become a mother as soon as you, and hopefully this lovely man, are ready. Until such time, please know how much he treasures you. You are enough; in fact, you are more than enough
Yes life is unfair but I hope that you can at least look at DJ and the fact that you have given her a life that she would never have had without you. She may well be sad that she can't carry a child of her own but as you allude to in your reply to 'me' motherhood can come in many ways. I am sure when the time is right, if the need is there she will find a way and I am sure that her love for her child will be as strong as any mothers.
ReplyDelete