4 Years Ago Today . . .

. . . I was in a recovery room from hysterectomy surgery. I get confronted almost daily with my loss. I feel it stronger during the holidays . . . when I wish my parents had more grandchildren, when I wish my sister was an aunt, when I wish my nieces had cousins from my side of the family. When I wish I had children of my own.

Grief still shows up – not as frequently or as deeply and painfully as 4 years ago, or 3 years ago – but it does.  And often unexpectedly. Which is the nature of grief . . . we don’t always see it coming and then there it is: like at Target when you just walked past the toddler tutus innocently hanging on a rack and you are slammed.

As I get older, grief also changes to reflect losses due to aging. My nieces taking on responsibility for me, not just their mom, because I don’t have children to make those decisions with and for me.

I REFUSE to learn from this or make concessions for this or become stronger because of this loss. This IS a loss – it will always be part of my story. Period. To turn it into a lesson of some sort feels unfair to me.  I could have learned how to be stronger with my own children.

Today I am going to go easy on myself. Treat myself with particular kindness and gentleness. I am also going to be especially grateful for the children (big and little) that are in my life and add joy to my days, both in my blood and in my psychological families. And I’m going to say this: I’m sad. I’m still in disbelief that the gift of birthing my own children was not a gift given to me