Motherhood and Sadness

Today I was reminded of one of the most painful pieces of falling in love with E. I know that most don't associate falling in love with pain, but when you've traveled the marriage route once and failed miserably, finally finding what you were really after all along can cast a painfully blinding spotlight on the parts of the past that hurt the worst. What reminded me isn’t important to my story except that it focuses on what may be the most emotionally laden issue that women deal with: Motherhood. This other woman has yet to experience what it is to become a mother and is now realizing that she may not ever. Even women who say they never wanted children often go through a grieving process when their bodies make it clear that having a child the “normal” way is no longer an option.

I always knew I wanted to be a mom. Once I hit 30 I was certifiably obsessed with becoming a mother and all things related. As I’ve written before, I made some pretty questionable decisions because of it. But if that’s what it took to get the two fabulous little girls I brought into the world, then so be it. I’d do it all again if need be. I rarely felt supported in that journey, at least by the one person I needed it from the most. I know now that some of his behavior stemmed from a fundamental inability on his part to communicate feelings or make connections. But at the time his attachment disorder wasn’t something I was trying to understand or label or feel sympathy about. I wanted to feel loved and cherished and have someone beside me who was reveling in the whole experience. But he didn’t. At its worst his apathy (?) kept him from keeping up with the basics like doctor’s appointments or from even asking if everything was ok the day I told him I was going to the doctor to see if we could hear the heartbeat. He never even asked…

I pushed his indifference and resentment away into a corner and tried not to bump into it as I navigated my way through pregnancies and infancy and toddlerhood. I focused on the pieces of my life I liked and that I could control and made it through one day at a time. I didn’t realize the emotional toll all of that compartmentalizing was taking until there was E.

Somewhere in the hours upon hours upon hours of soul-baring discussions we had as our relationship evolved I was forced to imagine how different my journey to and through motherhood would have been had I been with E. And the almost unbearable sense of grief and loss descended upon me in a sudden flood. It truly was overwhelming and at the time I remember having to give myself 24 hours to feel unbelievably sad. See, I know how attentive and compassionate my husband is on a regular ole’ day. Imagine how pampered and loved I would have felt if I had been carrying his child…

Over time it has gotten easier to think about without feeling a crushing sadness, partly because I actively choose to think about the differences in our parenting styles and how those differences would have manifested themselves if we had co-parented biological babies. Hey, if I can imagine the good stuff I can imagine the bad stuff too! I’m an equal opportunity daydreamer/compartmentalizer. And I focus on how glad I am to have a communicative partner to co-parent with from this point forward. Heaven knows there’ll be lots of times I’ll need to be comforted and pampered along this journey. And not a day goes by that I don't thank heavens to be making this journey with E.