Being overwhelmed made it easy for me to put dealing with the loss of being able to have biological babies on the back burner. I shoved it way to the back of my mind and priorties. I didn't want to face this reality even though every part of me knew it was true. Of course the fact that I had to remind people at doctors' offices and when getting scans and x-rays that "no parts equals no pregnant" didn't help me want to deal with the reality of everything either.
So on April 9, 2013, when the gyn/onc said those life changing words. I made the decision to have the second surgery - confirm the staging of the cancer and take away all hopes of ever becoming pregnant. There was no way I could face my shattering heart at this time. My husband and I focused all our energy into getting ready for chemo and the treatment to save my life. Dealing with the greif and depression setting in would have to wait.
When I first started meeting other survivors I felt like they didn't understand this part of surviving after surviving cancer. It seemed like all these other women already had children or they hadn't ever really wanted children. Me? I wanted to be a mom since I was 15 months old and my first "live" dolly showed up. Even to this day I am still entranced by pregnant women. Newborns, babies and children make me smile, increase my happy chemicals in my brain and relax me like nothing else.
The feeling of being a "different" kind of survivor also made me feel isolated. Wanting to be pregnant and have a biological baby had me upset and depressed. Once again I felt like I didn't belong. I couldn't share pregnancy or birthing stories. I had 2 bonus daughters who I felt like I was on the outside of their lives looking in, just hanging on the fringes. I've felt like this my entire life - always there but not really able to be included.
In 2018 I started seeing a wonderful Christian counselor. We started working on my immediate depression and grief of losing Brittany, my youngest bonus daughter. It took eight months for me to let her start digging into the grief of losing "my babies." Yes, my babies. Those children who I dreamed of forever, who I had names for, who I had dreams for. Those little babies I loved with my whole heart. A heart that was now precariously held together with mental scotch tape.
This grief is difficult to share. Difficult for others who have never experienced this kind of deep heart loss to understand. My counselor is an amazing woman with many, many tools she was able to put in my toolbox.
The first step she had me take was writing a letter to my self at a younger age. I stuggled to write that letter, but did it with tears. I also read it to her, more tears. Since that day, I have shed many tears for the loss of my babies, my dreams and the dreams I had for them. We still are working through this grief, one step at a time. I continue to journal about this loss and do what I can to help fill my hurting, broken mother's heart.
This grief will be a lifelong grief. Just like the other types of grief, it will never completely go away. It will change. Things will always be different and something will always be missing without my babies. I go on with my life, take care of the other babies God brings into my care and pray that one day I'll be a grandma. God's plans are greater. He is always faithful.
