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It's a pain a few, or probably no one,
would understand.
People often cry over the loss of
someone--- may it be due to a broken relationship or through death--- a pain
that is easily explained and hopefully understood. But how can you put into
words the pain caused by the loss of someone who is yet to be?
Lately I've been feeling discontented. At
first, I couldn't pinpoint what was wrong. Just recently, my boyfriend and I
attended a talk on happiness at the Brahma Kumaris center. There was an
exercise of some sort, 10 questions to answer and the results will show how
happy you are at this point in your life. The speaker said that scores of 30
and below meant one was not that happy yet and that the ensuing talk was just
what he/ she needed. Then he said anyone with a score of 30 and above may leave
now as they were already very happy. It was a joke of course but I still put my
hand over my score of 35.
A few days later the discontentment began
to gnaw at me until it became a knot in my chest that seemed familiar. Then it
hit me: it wasn't discontent; it was the pain of loss. But the loss of whom?
The pain was familiar because the last time I felt that way was when my Mom
died. But why this feeling now?
A few more days passed and found myself
crying every now and then. Angelo had tried to console me, as he always did
whenever I felt down, but even he got frustrated that I couldn't even explain
why I was feeling this way. He kept asking what was wrong and I just continued
to weep, not knowing what to say. Last night we both went home disappointed---
him, not knowing how to help and me, sadder than ever.
Now at 3am, still wide-awake and talking to
God without words but just offering up my tears. I read somewhere that tears
are prayers too and somehow that gave me comfort, knowing He always knew how to
deal with all the drama I stir up every now and then. And it was in this same
silent conversation where I realized whose loss I was mourning for... that of
my 2nd child.
For those who know me, let me just clarify
that I did not get pregnant and miscarry without telling anyone. My 2nd child
is the one I have been wishing for ever since I first saw Marti smile up at me
from the delivery room. I had Marti when I was 24. 17 years later, my 2nd child
is still a dream--- one that is slowly fading away as I approach menopause.
Conflicting advices from friends and family
only add up to the grief:
"Have a child now; never mind that
it's out of wedlock. You did it the first time."
"You're too old. You might just end up
with an abnormal kid."
"What if you die and end up leaving a
kid for Marti to take care of? That's so unfair to Marti."
"You have to wait until Angelo gets an
annulment so you guys can get married then have a child. Don't make the same
mistake you did before."
First of all, I still believe in marriage.
2nd, no matter what kind of child God
blesses me with, I will love him or her with the same mighty love I give Marti
every day.
3rd, straight from the mouth of Marti, "Mom,
I will love and take care of my brother and/ or sister ‘til the day I die
simply because they are my siblings."
4th, my being a single mother was a choice
and was and will never be a mistake.
Last and the most important of all, I love Angelo.
On the day I was about to decide whether or not to go in a relationship with
him, I was at the Blessed Sacrament having another silent conversation with God
and I will never forget what His answer was:
So every day I choose to love Angelo,
despite the obstacles we face and the plans and dreams we have yet to fulfill
and that includes our child, my 2nd child. I've said it before and I'll say it
again: I am so blessed to be loved by someone so kind and generous and who has
given me so much hope.
So now somehow the pain has calmed down
into a longing. Perhaps the pain was there to make me realize there is so much
to be grateful for now instead of wallowing in something that is yet to be.
After all, it is God--- the Restorer of Lost Time--- who promised that He will
see me through it all.
