All’s well that ends well

But what happens when it doesn’t? End well that is…

Well, you learn to cope with the ending you’ve been given. You learn to play the cards that were dealt. It’s not always fair. Almost never. I always believed a perfect life would be a boring life, but I never anticipated the life I was given.

Your entire life you are lied to. Told you choose your life, you chose your outcome. But that’s not true. You have choices but you don’t choose your life.

You don’t choose to be born, you just are. You don’t choose the family you are born into or the way you are raised. It just happens. You’re told you get to choose what you want to be when you grow up. Even that was a lie. I guess in a way I got lucky and something that was worth pursuing fell into my lap while I was still in school. But I didn’t choose it. I chose to be smart and pursue it, but it chose me. I can attain that I didn’t choose my husband, my heart did. And you can’t help who you love, right?

We did choose to travel and move around exploring different areas to call our home. And each choice was met with other adventures. For that I will always be grateful. We did choose to get married before trying to start a family. We chose to try and start a family. It did not choose us.

It took 5 years to realize that even without kids we are a family. It took 2 more years to realize my patience for kids isn’t what it use to be. You see, over the years I put this guard up. I told myself kids were annoying, and loud, needy, demanding little jerks. I’ve told myself this same lie over and over and over again. Until I started to believe it. Until I thought I had finally convinced myself that there was no room in my life for children now. I enjoy my privacy, my quiet, and ability to do what I want when I want.

And then…while watching Christmas movies with my husband, who is rarely vocal about us not having kids (to protect my emotions) has been making comments such as if we had kids, if we had a boy and a girl, if we had…blah blah blah.

And it broke me.

And then…not one, not two, not three, not four, but 5, birth announcements came in the past 2 weeks.

And it shattered me.

And now I’m left picking up the pieces of this facade I’ve spent years building. Of this strength I’ve not just portrayed but felt, and I’m left wondering how long it will take me to get back to that. How long will it take me to overcome the grief and anger and sadness again. Will it be easier this time? Will it ever go away? How do I know the triggers that may cause it to resurface? I thought I was beyond this. I thought I was stronger.

I thought it was suppose to be easy to just CHOOSE to be happy. I thought I could play along long enough to make it seem real. Like not having kids didn’t bother me. I thought if I could think it long and hard enough it could be true.

I know all the comments that will come along with this. Comments I’ve heard many times. Comments that I do appreciate but have also grown numb to. “Hang in there” “You’re so strong”. “You’re so brave”. “You can have my kids”.

Again, all lies. Right now, I’m not strong, I’m not brave, and I don’t want your asshole kids, I want mine!

If you’re going thru these same emotions right now, I feel you. I wish I could tell you it will get better. I wish I could tell you it gets easier. But right now, all I can tell you is that you’re not alone. And somehow I’m pretty sure we’ll get thru this again. And probably again, and again years down the road. Because that’s what we do. That’s all we can do. I can’t comfort you or make you feel better when I don’t even know how to comfort myself. But I can be transparent and raw with my emotions and let you know, you are not alone.