My brokenness – Part Two

The lifeline of our marriage was probably typical of most couples, a blending of joys and sorrows. We married. I went back to college to become a nurse. Doug worked as a CPA for a well-known firm. We were happy doing all the things young married couples do – working hard in our new careers, learning the nuances of married life, and playing with our newly married friends. After a few years we started trying for babies and came to realize that I had an infertility issue. I remember the anguish I felt at not being able to conceive. As a woman I felt inadequate and questioned my worthiness of motherhood. Our life began to revolve around this desperation of need and want and failure that defined every single month for years. These feelings were pervasive as my emotions raged from all the hormonal treatments. 

I mention this experience only to reflect upon the absolute joy and gratitude I felt when one of our final attempts resulted in pregnancy and I was able to carry Madison to term. As most women who struggle successfully with infertility feel, a baby is given as a gift and that we have been entrusted by a holy grace to ensure that this child is raised by the best part of us … that inner place whose source is pure love … that source that lives in each one of us. This ‘knowing’ was my solace and inspiration during those times following the divorce, the struggle to make things ‘right’ for our child, and the resplendent surprise of transforming pain into new sources of joy.

At about the same time we were grappling with infertility treatments, my mother was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer. It robbed her of her left leg, her spirit, and finally her life. When she lost her leg, Doug and I moved into my mother’s home so that I could help take care of her. My role of ‘wife’ quickly changed to that of ‘daughter’ which added another layer of stress to our lives. It was a devastating time for our family. Six months after my mother’s death, two surgeries and lots of infertility treatments later, I became pregnant with Madison. I still feel that my mom had a ‘celestial’ hand in my finally getting pregnant ( but that’s a whole other blog … if you’re interested).

Although Doug and I were thrilled with the pregnancy, I was still reeling from a profound depression following my mother’s death. To me, depression felt like an imprisonment of spirit. I felt like I was living in a world of darkness, standing on the edge of an abyss – and scared to death of falling further into this endless emptiness. Yet, I also felt guilty about feeling this way given that I was finally pregnant, working my dream job as a nurse, and married to a supportive and loving man. Both Doug and I knew something was wrong but I was simply unable to communicate my despair. At this point I knew I was broken but didn’t know how to fix it. So I grew silent and focused solely on my pregnancy, hoping that it would be our salvation.