It has been a while since I have written and part of it is at risk of becoming a broken record. I wish I could say the past few weeks have been good or at least uneventful, but it isn’t just the case. We seem to vacillate between mini disasters and chaos with my own meltdowns thrown in for good measure.
Both boys are struggling, with one able to verbalize and externalize his anger while the other holds it in with contempt for me while pretending nothing has changed. We have reached the point that I am in the process of getting more services to help the boys and myself. I started going to DivorceCare to work be around other people who have been through similar experiences. But, as my therapist said, “your story will usually win”. Believe me, this is not some contest you want to win and when I sit back and detach from this story, it feels too much to be true. But, alas, true it is, and there is a lot to it that I have not even written bout.
I have worked on building some new traditions for the boys and myself. Some have been flops (the Elf on the Shelf where we all take turns), and others have been big successes. I have been filling their advent calendars with coupons for fun things or breaks from chores and other small treats. That has been fun to create that little excitement every day. At the same time, Messi has really dug into his atheism and refuses to acknowledge any part of the Christmas story.
One of the greatest challenges of this past few weeks is the anticipation the boys have regarding their upcoming trip to see their dad. Messi is counting down the days and knows all the grand plans. Bolt is tentatively excited, but nervous and confronting his own issues with his dad. It has been over eight months since they have seen him, and a lot has changed for everyone. As for myself, facing the holiday without my sons and knowing that January could be rough…well that has me a mess of emotions.
The past week has seen me yelling and on my knees sobbing on the floor, sitting through church services with tears flowing, and overwhelmed. I haven’t had a working kitchen sink since Friday due to a drain clog and I have a door with a missing plate glass after an accident by Bolt. I have had help from unexpected sources, but at the end of the day it is the boys and I and we are a mess right now. I am looking forward to making it through this holiday and picking them up at the airport knowing that this first is over. Until then, I will try to relish the quiet warmth of winter – warm heat, chilly days, and the stillness of snow.
Let me just start by saying, I am writing this from a really raw place. Yesterday I received some news that set my healing process backwards and plunged me back into a state of confusion and anger and grief. It is like the scab that was beginning to develop was ripped off, along with several layers of skin. My two deepest sorrows – my ex-husband’s infidelity and our infertility have merged into this mess that feels like it may destroy me.
I have talked about how prior to adopting the boys, we (as in my ex and I) struggled through the lonely road of infertility and then several failed in-vitro fertilizations. What I didn’t explain is that our infertility was what they call “male factor” meaning that I was seemingly healthy, but my ex was told that without scientific intervention the likelihood of him ever fathering a child was slim to none. We spent about 9 months in the thick of IVF without success. I subsequently gained 30 pounds as a result (something I have never been able to lose) and developed polycystic ovarian syndrome…a condition worsened by weight gain, but also makes it harder to lose weight. So, for the past 10 years we have not used birth control in hopes that one-day God would grant us a miracle. Bolt and Messi did not heal that hurt that the infertility caused, nor did I expect them too. I had always wanted to adopt, but I had also wanted to experience pregnancy and a newborn sharing the traits of the man I loved and myself. When my ex left, I closed the door on us ever becoming biological parents.
Yesterday morning I awoke to several messages from around the country asking how I was dealing with “the announcement”. It was several hours before I would find out what this “announcement” was and yes, you guessed it, my ex and the woman he left me for are expecting a baby that was conceived while we were still married. One son found out via Instagram (since my ex posted it before he had actually spoken to both boys) and the other found out from a phone call, but I had to find out from everyone else.
So, if you ask me how I am doing, the answer is “not well at all”. This has triggered so many things in my heart and soul. It has reopened the barely healing wound of the affair and divorce. It has opened the scar left by infertility. More than that, the rejection I faced from my ex, I now feel from God. They posted what a “blessing” this baby is and it feels like a rubber stamp on their affair and God’s way of saying that he blesses it. I know God doesn’t, but how could he reward their infidelity with the most beautiful gift…a child? Talk about kicking a person when they are down.
I am sitting here alone tonight while my kids are 3000 miles away on a vacation with their grandparents. My ex not only didn’t have the balls to at least email me in compassion over our shared grief and story, but he let me find out through the web of social media. He also told our sons when they were on vacation and when they weren’t with me to help them process and understand. The boys claim to be excited, but in their voices, is an undercurrent of confusion.
I feel like I am living in some nightmare. This isn’t my life. This announcement was absolutely my worst nightmare. I feel like the God who had taken me into his lifeboat to rest has thrown me overboard and now I am drowning.