A is for Acceptance

Mourning the dreams that don't come true

My Friends-

I hope everyone’s Easter was half as fun as mine. We hosted 13 kids along with their parents at our annual Easter Egg Hunt and the Easter Bunny even made an appearance! He danced and jacked balance bikes and had us all cracking up. Photo provided for evidence. Fun was had by all, and while said fun did land me in bed, it was oh so worth it. Seeing my son and his friends filled with so much joy was exactly what the doctor ordered!

Before Easter though, my body was flooded with grief. A few weeks ago, a good friend, the kind that you might not speak to for months but can alway pick up the conversation with, called. We caught up for 45 minutes, chatting about aging parents, raising our kids, work, husbands, and all that kind of stuff. Eventually, the discussion turned to Long COVID. She asked, in a casual and matter of fact tone, “So I guess this Long COVID nonsense puts a pin in the discussion around another kid?”

Before Long COVID consumed my life, I was very direct when people suggested a sibling for Bennett. I always responded with a level-headed, “We’re good. We would rather get a pool.” It was true then, and is still true now, and let’s be honest, I am barely keeping up with one kid I currently have. Thanks to this onerous illness, a second child is simply not in the cards.

I ended the call with my friend feeling sad and that day saw me go from sadness to rage and back again. I wound up spending the entire week in tears. Even now, I’m still struggling to put these big feelings into words. I know it is grief, but what am I grieving exactly? In theory, I would love for my son to have a sibling, but I also am not at all interested in, or capable of, caring for a newborn right now. So why couldn’t I stop crying?

In advance of a much needed emergency therapy session, I made myself sit with these feelings until I could put them into words (of course I am someone who brings notes to therapy). My self-check session helped me realize that the grief wasn’t about wanting a baby and not being able to have one right now. It was about having the choice taken from me over and over and over again. The grief was about needing to accept that my life turned out differently than what I expected it to look like.

I have known since childhood that I was meant to be a mother. I’ve held that knowledge concretely, definitively, in my bones for decades. In 2010, I only had my period 2 times that year. Not normal, but with the loss of my mom, a huge move to DC, and a new job in the Obama Administration, it kind of made sense. But when one doctor's appointment led to another, and another, and another, over a period of months I learned that I was infertile. The stress and trauma, surrounding my mother’s illness and death, led to my ovaries literally shutting down on me. I was 28, single, and barren.

There is nothing like infertility or a relatively new and unknown medical condition to show you just how little you actually control. Whether it is Long COVID, your finances, or simply your personal capacity, we often don’t get the things that we very much want. That is just how life works. Our options are almost always limited by our circumstances and the sooner we accept that, the faster we are able to move to a place of peace and joy.

In 2012, I met Matt and within six weeks found myself confessing my situation to him. His response, that he cared about me and not my ability to reproduce, is why we wound up married. Together we would spend 5 years navigating infertility and adoption. We are now proud and loving parents to Bennett, and I am happy. Even with Long COVID, I am grateful and content with the family we’ve created together. And at the same time, I’m simply tired of my options being limited by forces outside of my control. I both know that acceptance leads to peace and I want to be fully in charge of my life.

But, more often than not in life, you get what you get, not necessarily what you want or deserve. Do I want or deserve this illness? Infertility? A dead mom? Of course not. But that’s what I got. When life removes our options or kills our dreams, we have to grieve in order to go on. Grief is what allows you to move through the things you don’t like, don’t want, or didn’t expect. It’s the container that holds your pain when things don’t go the way you want them to.

I let myself be sad and mad and totally irrational (just ask poor Matt) this week. I let myself grieve so I don’t stay stuck in anger or resentment. Give yourself space to grieve the dreams that didn’t come true, so you can let them go. Sit with the complicated emotions over and over again if necessary, talk them out with a friend or therapist, cry, get mad, do whatever helps you heal. That is how you move forward to acceptance, peace, and ultimately more joy.

Because what could be more joyful than this adorable only child?

xxMarisa

PS: Every year, I send out Mother’s Day cards to women I admire in honor of my own sweet mama. This year, we are doing a major giveaway instead. It is ONLY for Substack subscribers, and you are going to want to get your friends involved in this one! More soon…