Well, my last post (before Veterans Day) was a real upper, eh? I was not in a very good place. I've been dealing with a lot of grief lately, but not realizing it. I figure, it's been 10 years, I should be "used" to this, or it shouldn't bother me anymore.
Well, it's NEVER going to NOT bother me, because it's not the way I was made. I was fearfully and wonderfully made, and knitted together in my mother's womb (Psalm 139). Myasthenia gravis is a crippling condition, mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually. Unless and until I fully comprehend that, I am going to struggle.
I am not just a physical being. I have a mind. I have a soul. I have a spirit. And everything is effected by this wretched disease.
I thought that grief was like a checklist: first you're in denial, then you're angry, then you bargain with God, then you're depressed, then you accept it. Well, it's more like a labyrinth than a ladder. It's not a straight-up-the-pegs-go-through-it-once-and-you're-done-kind of thing. It's more like a crazy, twisted maze that starts you off in one direction, then spins you in another, only to find yourself back at the beginning all over again.
My latest setback was the realization that barring direct act of God, I will not have any more children, neither biologically nor by adopting. Several things have lead up to that decision, which I'm not quite up to sharing yet. All I know is that the hole in my heart seems so big and so consuming, that I feel as if I'll never recover.
I always wanted a lot of kids. I NEVER wanted an only child (no offense to only children, it's just a personal thing). Doug is an only child and it is immense pressure. I never wanted that for my children.
It's not fair. But it is what it is. I can't change it. I don't know that I'll ever accept it either. But I know I have to grieve. I don't want to, because it hurts. A lot. But the alternative is worse. Keeping it inside only makes it grow, and consuming, and overwhelming, and before you know it, you're in a very deep, dark hole that there's no escaping.
So I will grieve. It will take time. A lot of time. But as Job said, "I KNOW that my Redeemer lives." Whether here or in eternity, there will be redemption.