Lost

Every once in a while I see a child and my heart hurts. Not because of the conclusion you may automatically jump to, no, this is for the loss of an opportunity. And, sometimes, following closely behind, is the realization that my life is not exactly how I had hoped it would be when I dreamed of it as a little girl.

I won't address every aspect of my current life that doesn't meet the dreams I had as a child, I only want to speak about having a family. Yes, this could be surprising to folks who know me--I wanted my own family. I wanted a husband and children.

I remember as a teenager thinking that eleven children would be fabulous. We'd have a football team as long as everyone played both sides. Or maybe nine kids and our very own baseball team. I was raised in a family of 5 which is technically a basketball team and that might work. As I got older and more selfish I realized tennis doubles would probably be best.

Then I didn't get married which will need to be a separate post. As the years ticked by and I remained unmarried I tried to cut the need for my own children, my own family, out of my heart. I figured that if I could convince myself that I didn't want a family the pain I was feeling would go away. All the convincing in the world wasn't working though and my heart hurt a lot. I struggled attending church because all around me I saw this thing I wanted but couldn't find or get. I made me wrong, incomplete and undesirable because I wasn't married with children.

I met a man with a small daughter and we fell in love. One night, laying in bed next to him, I realized that I loved her too and my heart started to heal from the pain of not being a mother. I mean, if I couldn't be a biological mother, at least I could be a step-mom. For years that role met the needs I had and had been burying away. My husband didn't want more children so I convinced myself that I didn't either.

After years of physical suffering, I decided that I wasn't ever going to use my uterus so I had a hysterectomy. It wasn't a decision that I made overnight, it was years in the making. The freedom from the constant recurring pain is indescribable--just as indescribable as the pain since my teenage years. I don't regret that choice. I made the best decision I could with the information I had at the time.

My heart hasn't yearned for a child or for children. I'm not one of those 40-something women who suddenly must have a kid or my life won't be complete. I can understand the desire to procreate or even to care for a child. I just don't have those desperate feelings.

Yet, every once in a while I see a small child and, for whatever reason, I want to be a mom. I feel the enormity of the lost opportunities crash all around me and have to grieve again. I wonder what it would feel like to hold a child in my now non-existent womb. I wonder how I'd be as a parent. I wonder what my children's names would be, what color hair they would have, how different their personalities would be.

I did make a good step-mom and maybe I can be a step-mom again but as I continue on as an unmarried woman I see the probabilities of that role slip farther and farther away. So I am back to trying to convince myself that I don't want my own little family. I try to convince myself that "Aunt" is enough. I try to feel fulfilled as a woman without having the chance to be a mother.

Yet...I still want that dream, I still want the husband and family.

Lucky

I am amazing.

When I look in the mirror I don't always see myself as others see me. Today I see a strong, powerful, amazing woman. I'm open, caring, generous, loving, talented. Sure, I can be cautious and afraid--I'm human after all--but mostly I am amazing.

And...I loved you. Of all the candidates to choose from, I opened my heart to you and I let you in. You may have battered at the door, I still had to undo the lock. I chose you. I remember the moment when I picked, standing on the corner of the city street on a chilly, overcast day, I said "Yes."

I will not regret my choice, that decision to open the way, nor will I dwell on the times I let fear hold me back because I eventually allowed myself to be loved and to love...completely, absolutely, without restraint. I never wanted you to be different, I only wanted the situation to be changed--a situation you would not, will not change.

Now I want to point out (just in case denial clouds your vision entirely) that you are the luckiest man alive.

But your luck has run out.

Pain

Nothing hurts like "I don't love you anymore." Nothing.

First, there was surprise. Could this be happening? Next, humiliation. All those stupid things I did, thinking I was loved. How could I be so stupid? After the shock came the pain. Pain accompanied by tears. I guess I should have expected this--the situation was not sustainable. Unfortunately, since my feelings hadn't changed, I was surprised.

Friends, family and even my therapist are quick to point out that I do deserve to be loved, to be chosen over all others but the truth is I don't really believe it. The evidence? If I believed I deserve to be loved and chosen above all other women, I would be. I wouldn't take just the crumbs offered to me by men who cannot or will not give me all that I deserve, all that I need.

I wish there was some magic pill or incantation I could say that would alter what I believe about myself and my life. I'm 45-years-old and I want to be loved. It's not a crime and it doesn't make me weak or less.

So you may never read this, may never know how much your words hurt me. Maybe you know. Maybe you care that your words hurt me. Maybe you don't and it can't matter to me, not anymore. Now I have to say enough is enough. Now I have to love me more than I love you. Now the pain of loving you is greater than not loving you.

While the pain persists all I can do is endure, wait it out and get to the same place...where I can say "I don't love you anymore."