Grieving

What a week.

Many of the ALI blogs I read deal with loss, but these losses occurred before I found their blog. Mo’s is the first one I have witnessed firsthand (or at least as close as we get online). I’ve been so moved by the outpouring of comments, posts, prayers, and emails honoring Mo, Shmerson, and Nadav. This community is amazing and I am proud to be a part of it.

In addition to Mo’s devastating loss , my officemate’s mother passed away over the weekend at age 64. That sounds so young to me! She has been back at work for two days and has been extremely gracious as people continually come in to express their condolences. After the first rush of visitors, I was able to speak with her and that was when she said it: she was glad to be back at work and have a distraction.

I get that.

Please do not misunderstand: I am not comparing death to divorce. I’m just saying that I get it.

When going through my divorce, I was so happy for any distraction. Being home wasn’t a relief – all of the grief and troubles were right there. The accusations, the fighting, the feelings of hopelessness, the urge to hide, the defensiveness, the fear for Little K… It was all right there.

I felt like a failure as a wife, mother, daughter, and Christian, but at work? At work I was able to focus. At work, I felt productive and safe. I knew that no one would bring it up and, for those eight hours each day, I could forget about everything that was going wrong.

I was reading some additional posts on loss yesterday when I ended up on Life After Addison. In her Blue Storks post, she talks about the giant “No Visitors” sign when they came home without Addison:

I didn't want people stopping by […] I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted visitors only on my own terms, I needed to be in control of something.

Again, not comparing divorce to pregnancy/child loss but there it is – I needed to be in control of something.

Sometimes, you don’t want to talk about it. Because you’re not sure if you can make it through your reply, let alone an entire conversation, without crying or yelling. You’re not sure if that comment or question is going to take you out of your focus and send you into another round of depression or hiding from the world.

Eventually it got better for me. I became used to the awkward questions from the people who didn’t know, being able to answer with a simple “We’re not married anymore” instead of tears. Eventually everyone in my inner, middle, and outer circle knew what was going on and stopped asking about him. I got to the point where I was able to walk into church and not immediately turn around to leave. Eventually, I was able to grow a thicker skin.

But more than that, I think I was finally able to accept that being a divorcee is a part of my story. I had to face the truth, work through it and, if not claim it, at least accept it and push myself to move past it. I had to daily remind myself that my story was not going to end with my divorce; life was still going to move on and it was up to me to join it.

This isn’t a call for anyone to move through their grief at any particular pace. You take things at your own pace, expect setbacks, and try to set boundaries to let you grieve in safe ways. I wish I had had the opportunity to grieve my divorce better and with Christian friends. Instead, I spent the duration of the proceedings and the following two years hiding from God and trying to ignore my problems.

Guess what didn’t work? Exactly. Now that I am back in His Word daily and interacting with other believers, I am making progress and *think* I have reached the last stage of grieving: Acceptance.

And I have to tell you – it feels so good.

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Can I be honest for a moment? What in the world am I supposed to do about sex now that R’s count is super final? I don’t know if it’s the concrete lack of procreation or what but, now that we are officially at zero and my period has come and gone, the idea of sex is just weird. Blech. I really want to get over this one soon.

The Three-Letter Word

There are three people on this earth that I can talk to about sex: my husband, my sister, and my best friend. Put me in front of anyone else and my face goes red while my mouth snaps shut. I had to be distracted with a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle while my mother gave me “the talk” because I couldn’t look at her while she spoke about that.

This makes it difficult when your daughter starts asking questions about human reproduction.

Luckily, my mother swooped in to save the day. She gave Little K words to use by telling her that the woman has the egg, the man has the seed, they put them together and a baby is made. Which, for a five year old, is just enough information. As she gets older, I will need to get over myself and positively educate her about her body, sexuality, and how to protect herself until she is ready to start a family.

I will also share information with her regarding reproductive assistance.

Reproductive education does not seem to get much positive attention. Many schools tell our children how easy it is to become pregnant, so “you better not have sex.” The reality is that it’s not that easy. I want my daughter to understand what infertility is, what it means, and what courses of treatment are available, if needed.

I do my best to encourage people to assess their fertility before they start trying to conceive in order to be prepared, should they encounter problems. If you are a woman, make sure to visit your gynecologist annually and spend time charting your menstrual cycle. If you are a man, have your prostate examined and meet with an urologist.

Now, please excuse me: I’m off to gag in the corner at the thought of my little girl growing up and having sex.