There have been moments when I have mourned never having a daughter. I have felt this longing particularly on two occasions. Once was when I was 39 years old, overwhelmed by motherhood with three little boys under the age of six and starting to realize that there was no way in hell I could add another baby to our insane family dynamic. I was cognizant enough to understand at that point (although barely due to lack of sleep) that if Greg and I chose to have another baby, we would most likely have Baby Boy #4. I decided that I was a good (perhaps even great?) Mom to three sons but might truly suck at being one to four or more. Greg and I decided three was the perfect number for us- even though we would have loved to have had a daughter. That decision forced me into grieving for awhile.
The second obvious moment of grieving for me happened just a few weeks ago. I was two weeks into my recovery from my hysterectomy. I was feeling pretty good physically- I was still in pain and my stitches were pulling but I was mobile and could take walks. I was feeling better than expected and I was so grateful to be post surgery and on the road to recovery that the pain did not bother me so much. But, all the sudden, the emotions set in. The realization that I had just lost such an important part of my body- one which had allowed me to give birth to our three sons and create our personal miracles – Connor, Matthew and Tommy. I had focused on the benefits of surgery as I made my decision to move forward with it. I had delayed it for many years because I had not felt ready emotionally for such a major operation and the recovery it necessitated. Anyone who knows me well understands that I do not like to slow down. It does not work well for me emotionally. I am a mover. I am a multitasker. I am busy and I like it that way. Slowing down is hard for me. That is my true weakness. I don’t know how to just “be”. It is hard and somewhat painful for me. So, the past six weeks since my surgery have been filled with important lessons about myself and moments of contemplation when I have not been allowed to immerse myself in constant movement. I have allowed myself quiet time to contemplate. And, with this time came the sadness of contemplating a definitive goodbye to my reproductive years as a woman and the possibility of being the mother to a daughter. Intellectually, this had been a reality for at least five years in my mind but there is something about shutting the book on a topic that hits pretty hard emotionally.
It made me want to run out the front door and drowned those feelings with a good sweaty, Zone 4 interval workout at the track or grab my bike and pound Squaw Pass climbing with enough intensity to release all those feelings of loss. But, this time, I could not do that. I could walk around the block but that was not going to have the same effect. I had to face it and process it in the quiet, peacefulness of my living room from the comfort of my sofa. That is not my position of choice but hell…..it had to be on this particular occasion. As I shed a few tears, my son Matthew came in and sat right next to me and put his head on my shoulder. “Mom, are you okay?”. My sweet boy. Looking after his Mama always and making sure I am doing alright. That is so Matthew. A few minutes later, Tommy came into the living room and plopped himself down on the other side of me. “Mom, what’s wrong?”. “Oh, I am just having a moment, sweetie. I love you.” Tommy, his normal, sassy, funny, somewhat sarcastic self responded, “Well, duh, I know you do! You tell me that all the time. I love you too, Mom.” About an hour later, his brothers having moved on to basketball and Xbox, Connor came in to see me. “Hey, Mom. Did you know that everyone needs at least eight hugs a day to feel happy?? Have I given you enough hugs today?? Want one now?”. Be still my heart. We have amazing sons. They fill my heart so full. And, my moment of sadness and loss was refilled with intense gratitude for everything Greg and I have in our lives and not what we do not have. It really is perfect for us. And, our life together with these three kiddos is exactly how it is supposed to be. It was always meant to be this way. I was born to be the mother of three boys who are creative, athletic, emotional, loving, bickering, empathetic, kind and high spirited. And, that earlier moment of sadness was embraced and then let go. My life is full.
I am ready to move forward and rebuild. My body has strengthened and I am ready to start setting some new goals for myself. Some of these are “whisper goals”- special things I would like to achieve in the future but want to keep to myself. Some will materialize as I hit milestones in my recovery and I see what my body and mind are capable of achieving. I have gained a lot of self-confidence and happiness by just facing my weaknesses and having the courage to address them. It has been somewhat painful and scary and uncertain. But, I am coming out on the other end of this feeling infinitely grateful for every little blessing I have in my life, the love that I feel, the body that I have and the strength to overcome obstacles in my life which I have been afraid to face. And, the greatest thank you goes to my family- my husband and my sons who have taken such great care of me as I have felt saddened and weakened and frustrated. But, then helped me refocus to gain greater strength, perspective and inner calm. I could not do this without my Culligan men. I love you guys so much. My life is nothing without you.
TriAptitude Coaching 
Leave a comment