“We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”
Recently, we began the process of giving away baby items bought or given to us for our son, James. Since he never came home from the hospital, they remain unused. Several months ago, we moved them out of the shed, into a closet at my parents’ house. But the time has come for another step. We are beginning to pass these items on to friends and family who are becoming parents. We have been unable to have another child, and are not in a position to adopt. And so, in the same gesture of giving that celebrates the new parenthood of people we care about, we also acknowledge it is unlikely that we will raise a child of our own. Neither of us ever thought it would be this way.
Since our young neighbors moved in across the street with their infant and toddler, I have been unable bring myself to exchange more than a passing smile or wave on this otherwise friendly block in our quaint small town. More than two lanes of quiet asphalt stretch between us. As much as I realize, rationally, that I sometimes idealize the hard work of child-rearing, it is tempting still to wish for a different life. And yet, over the past three years, I have had the opportunity to face down some of the deepest questions about my life, and how I must make meaning in it anew.
Perhaps a branch of my family tree will end with my name on it. But I have not lost the chance to influence my world for the better. Sharing my love of poetry is one way. As I slowly wake from the long dream of grieving, I am sure I will find others. For now, we are taking small steps toward the next crossroads–one bag of diapers, one box of clothes, one bassinet at a time.
20 Comments
As someone who was surprised to find herself pregnant, and surprised to love being a mother so much, it is always painful to hear stories such as yours Robert. My closest friend struggled and struggled to get pregnant and I had to tell her that I was. I dare not imagine the pain that you and Val have been through. I send you both peace and joy and love; it is both a platitude and a truth to say that you never know what might cross your path next. In the meantime, I have a very special small boy who loves books and music and poetry and nature and social media–and you are welcome to have him in your life when and if you’d like.
Dear Robert,
Your quote today was especially touching. I am thinking good thoughts for you.
Take care, Jeannine
Thank you, Robert. Sorrow is a friend, too, and I sense you know the wisdom of suffering. Keep your heart open and your laughter deep. Peace and all good.
Thanks, Gwendolyn. Your boy is a light!
Thanks, Jeannine. My wife, Valerie, found the Campbell quote. Seems deeply apropos.
An elegant and touch post, Robert. I admire you for sharing something so personal on your blog with us.
Thanks, Collin. Writing helps me make sense ofvthings, and I’ve often found strength in the vulnerability of sharing it. None of us are strangers to sorrow …or joy.
A beautiful and touching post. Otherwise, I am without words. Both you and your wife are in my thoughts tonight.
Thanks for your kindness, Karen.
This is so brave of you to write, and as difficult as it is to read, I know that my sadness on reading it does not come anywhere close to what you all are going though, your level of grieving. Thank you for sharing this.
Thanks, Dana, for your compassion.
I have spent the better part of this evening perusing blogs and have read a number of really good posts, but none so touching as this one.
The quote, which meant one interesting, if somewhat forgettable meaning (as all quotes usually go for me) becomes profound after having read the rest of the blog.
You have my best wishes.
Thanks, Keith. The meaning of the quote continues to unfold for me too.
Thanks, Paul. Will take these words to heart.
“But I have not lost the chance to influence my world for the better. Sharing my love of poetry is one way.”
I think of favorite poets who did not have physical children: Whitman, Dickinson, Wordsworth, Keats…on and on. I bless their names and work, with a stunned and grateful heart.
Thanks for this reminder, Esther. A group called The Divine Comedy set Wordsworth’s “Lucy Gray” to music, and it is stunning. Here’s a video of the album version of the song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4OvQlTwsHs
and a live version:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWyhe9ar18A
“There are love dogs
no one knows the names of.
Give your life
to be one of them.”
And so you are, brother Robert…
With heart,
Michelle
Thanks, Mich.
Thanks for the great quote.
The situation you describe is really beyond comment for anyone who has not experienced it. So, I won’t, except to say all the best to you and your wife.
Thanks, Patrick. Appreciated.