I had another idea today for something I wanted to try with our kids.
I’m always thinking up some “new and improved” ways to teach my kids something, or to show them they are loved, or to make their lives better.
I’ve written keepsake letters to my kids for years. After losing my own Mom in 2015, I started writing letters to them, in case…in case anything ever happens to me…so they’ll have something of mine that was created specifically for them when I’m gone.
I forget what this specific idea was this time around – a chore chart, a kid’s activity, a family event...who knows? I just remember getting really excited about it…
...until I wasn’t anymore.
Because – there are no kids.
There are nieces. Four gorgeous nieces who are all grown up and living their own lives.
There are family and friends with kids that I am allowed to love and dote on and buy gifts for.
But…they are not mine.
My letters, my plans, my wishes, and dreams are not for them.
I think a part of me had some inkling early on that I’d never get the family I hoped for.
In 2016, my friend announced that she was pregnant and that her mother was going to move in with her to help take care of the baby.
I was ectstatic for her....but heartbroken and envious at the same time. I had long feared for health reasons that I wouldn't be able to concieve...and even in the event that I could, I would never have my mom with me to guide me through motherhood like she did.
So, after giving my congratulations to my expectant friend, I excused myself to the restroom, gave into my fears and heartache and silently cried.
My friends never forgave me for that.
But no – it wasn’t until losing my father as well that I received the news that I had uterine cancer.
That was when my fears were realized.
We’ve considered adoption – even had very specific plans to do so. But as they say – we plan and fate laughs.
It hurts every time someone asks if I have kids.
It hurts every time someone asks if we’ll foster or adopt.
So many things hurt.
I’ve gotten pretty good at smiling despite the tinge of pain I feel every time. I’ve gotten pretty good about skirting the follow up questions, like when people ask WHY we don’t have kids or WHY we don’t foster or adopt. And sometimes…sometimes, I tell them the truth.
I don’t expect the world to change to accommodate me, or to pussyfoot around my feelings, so I cope the best way I know how.
But today…today, a beautiful friend reached out with the kindness, clarity of mind, and compassion to ask: “Be honest. Does it bother you when I talk about the kids?” She promised she wouldn’t get upset with my answer and reassured me that I was her friend, and that my feelings mattered to her greatly.
In that moment, I sobbed.
“I love your kids, and I’m so very, very grateful to be a part of their lives. 99.5% of the time, I’m good. But, would it be okay if I gave you a heads up sometimes that I’m in the .5%?”
And with that, we came to a mutual agreement.
I’m in the .5% today.
Those are always hard days to get through.
But today, a friend reached out and told me that it was okay, and that she’d be there for me – and I wonder if she’ll ever know how much that means to me.