Our baby. You knew we were having him. You saw his heartbeat. Our family would be complete after our baby was born. We weren’t going to find out the sex of the baby because it didn’t matter. We already had a boy and a girl so we didn’t need anything new for our third child. We were prepared for either one so we thought it would be fun to let this one surprise us at the birth. We started talking about names. Boy and girl names.
We had no way of knowing that you would only go to one doctor appointment with me before our Lord would call you Home. The first time I felt him move inside me, you were already gone. I would experience each milestone in the pregnancy without you. Desperately wishing you were back with me. Waiting for you to come through the door from work. I was held captive in a world of denial that our baby would not be born until you came home to me. I just could not fathom a world where you would not be present at the birth of our child as you had been the previous two times.
I went through the motions of taking care of our children and going to work for the next six months. It was an effort to breathe because I hurt so deeply. Our baby was the reason I ate healthy, took vitamins and went to the doctor regularly. I don’t know how much of my exhaustion was grief and how much was pregnancy. Those months crept by and somehow, the day came that our baby was born. A boy. Healthy. Without you. My denial was gone. I knew you weren’t coming home.
I no longer had the luxury of time to grieve. With two young children and a newborn, my life was full. I embraced being a mom. I loved being a mom. I loved being a mom when you were here and that didn’t change without you. I don’t remember a lot about those early years without you. Widow brain is a real phenomenon and I’m sure I had a good case of it. When I see pictures of myself during that time, I look so broken. I was doing the best I could to raise my children with my crushed soul. I survived losing you, though, and so did our children.
It’s hard to imagine but our baby is 16 years old today. I wonder if you can see him? He is handsome and looks like your brother’s son. He definitely favors your side of the family. He’s smart, kind, and funny. All three of our children love and support each other. They love the Lord and will see you again someday. So will I. Until then, we’ll keep living the best we can without you.
As Valentine’s Day approaches, I’m thinking of all of my widowed friends. Valentine’s Day has got to be the cruelest of all holidays to someone who has had the love of their life unexpectedly ripped out of their life! For days (sometimes weeks) leading up to it, there are commercials, aisles in every store and radio advertisements for gifts, cards, candy, flowers, even jewelry to buy for the one you love. There’s one thing they don’t advertise, however: flower arrangements for the cemetery! What about those of us whose loves are in the ground? What are we supposed to do on this day for lovers? It’s as if we don’t exist. We’re not surprised by this, though, since we’re often the forgotten ones as the world continues to exist around us and our world feels so broken.
I’ve heard many widows talk about their “Chapter Two.” For those of you who are lucky enough not to know what that expression means, it’s the love that follows our late husband. For some reason, though, that expression has never appealed to me. For me, by saying that my current love is my “Chapter Two” feels as though I am saying that he is the #2 in my life and always will be. Although some widows may feel that way, I do not.
This year, on the Steve’s angelversary, our daughter went to her homecoming dance with her first real boyfriend. They are almost the same ages that he and I were when we began dating. I was so happy for her but also so sad that he didn’t get to be here to experience the joy with me. Grief. Again. 12 years later. This was the grief of a mother. It had nothing to do with my love for the man in my life now.
I thought I had reached a point where I had “mastered” the widow thing. I mean, it’s been 11 and 1/2 years, I’m happily in love with another man, I’m raising my kids, I’m mentoring other widows, life is great, right?
My son was six years old when his dad died and he will graduate high school this Spring. I am proud to say that I raised him to be a fine young man! Do I wish his dad were here to see him? Absolutely! But the truth is, I raised him as a single mom, an only parent, for the majority of his life and I have every right to enjoy his graduation without sadness, guilt or grief. I am proud of him and I am proud of me. His dad would be proud of us both.
Widow Plus Three 