Grief is an odd thing…

I’ve been feeling down for the past few days, and I honestly could not figure out why.  We missed church Sunday.  Again. 3 was up all.night.long and we were all completely exhausted.  He hasn’t transitioned to a new church well.  But that’s a post for another day. 

I always struggle with depression more when we miss church.  But this week it has been more.  Deeper.  Different.  I knew I needed to spend more time in the Word, but didn’t. I knew I needed to eat better, but didn’t.  I knew I needed to exercise, but didn’t. Honestly, I just didn’t care. If you’ve never struggled with depression, this may sound odd to you. I understand.  It used to sound odd to me too.  Depression isn’t (always) about sadness.  It isn’t about a lack of gratitude.  It isn’t about not being happy.  For me, it’s apathy.  I know there are things, like diet, exercise and especially time with Jesus that make a big difference.  But I can’t do any of them.  I just can’t.

Then, I stumbled upon a blog post that brought my grief back to the surface again.  Proverbs 30:15a-16 (NLT) says, “There are three things that are never satisfied— no, four that never say, “Enough!”: the grave, the barren womb, the thirsty desert, the blazing fire.”  Wow. This is very true. My womb has been barren all 18 years of our marriage.  Except for one 7 week stretch, when I was pregnant.  Then miscarried. Now, I am 2 weeks away from a total hysterectomy. 14 days.

I thought I had dealt with the emotions surrounding this decision. I knew they would resurface. But, I didn’t think it would come BEFORE the surgery and in such a debilitating way.  The barren womb is never satisfied.  Even though I am a mom. Even though I don’t really feel like the surgery is taking away my fertility.  I truly don’t feel like I ever had it. Not really.  But here I am, grieving. 

I think I am grieving what I think SHOULD have been.  Or, at least what COULD have been.  I always wanted to be a mother.  ALWAYS. I always wanted a big family.  My husband and I have 3 and 5 siblings respectively and my best friend has always been my sister.  We are just over 2 years apart in age, and still very close.  I wanted all that for my kids.  But, instead, we have one son.  Who is now 5. Even if/when we do another infant adoption, he will be an only child because of the age difference. I grieve that for him. I grieve that over my 20’s I was so focused on what I was MISSING that I wasn’t at all thankful for what I HAD! I grieve that I still feel physical and emotional pain every time I see a pregnant woman or a breastfeeding mom. Every.time.

So, what now? Instead of pretending like I don’t feel the way I do, or pushing it down, I’ve decided to live with my grief for the next 14 days.  Live with it.  Embrace it.  Walk through it.  Somehow, I still have to cook dinner, do the dishes, play cars (again!) with my wonderful gift from God.  I will choose to feel the grief and still be thankful.  Feel the pain and still move forward.  Feel the disappointments and still get things ready for my 6 week recovery.  I will because I must.  I will because “Greater is HE that is in me than he that is in the world.” 

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3 thoughts on “Grief is an odd thing…

  1. My heart breaks for you Jen. Nothing I can say or do to make it better. Just know you are loved and I will be there with you.

  2. I am so sorry Jenny. My heart is aching for you. You are such a sweet person and friend, I wish we had known each other better in school. I will be praying for you on this journey. XXOO!!

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