A Beautiful Life

While talking with my colleague the topic of grief came up. She mentioned how a mutual acquaintance once said something to the effect of, “one grief story is one grief story.” In other words, no two are alike. I agree, but it also highlights the loneliness of grief. No one, anywhere, can understand exactly what I’m going through. Grief is a lonely road.

However, there are others who are on similar journeys – not the same path, but close enough that we walk near each other at certain times. When the paths cross or turn so that we’re walking parallel, we can even hold hands sometimes. I have a friend who is on one of those paths. Our grief is about infertility, but the journeys we experience are different. Despite the differences, we’ve found ourselves walking this stage of life together.

One day she asked me a question I know she’s probably wanted to ask for a while. I’m sure others have wanted to ask this same question.

Is there anything that you could do now so that you won’t regret not doing later?

At first I was thinking about life in general, then I realized what she was getting at:

Will you regret not considering a donor egg?
Will you regret not looking into IVF?
Will you regret not asking more about adoption?
Will you regret not trying a little harder?

It took me only moments to respond:
As sad as it can be sometimes, I truly feel at peace with the choices we’re making…I don’t feel led to do anything that we’re not doing right now. I know it probably doesn’t make sense to most people but we really are at peace. That doesn’t mean I’m not sad or grieving, but I do trust our choices and believe that God is walking the road less travelled with us.  

After a few texts back and forth I found myself saying, “I really do have a beautiful life.” 

It’s true. I do. It’s not the one I planned for. It’s not the one I expected, but it is beautiful.

I spent an evening with our nephews playing bey blades and walking around the cul-de-sac and racing cars and playing basketball. I splashed in a small blow up pool with our niece and helped her slowly walk down the slip n’ slide. I laughed until my face hurt while on FaceTime with our youngest niece because she has the cutest laugh ever. Following that I laughed while our twin nieces were doing some crazy comedy routine over the phone that involved deep breathing, a doll chair and farting noises. Then I enaged in my first “no assistance needed” text conversation with our oldest niece – full of “yes” and emojis. What more could I ask for?!

Soon I’ll be running my eighteenth half marathon with a friend. I’ve travelled around the world including last summer when I got to walk 130 miles of the Camino de Santiago. We have the best dogs in the world — I often ask my husband how we got so lucky.

I work for people who value my gifts and skills, who see me as more than a job description. I work with people who understand grief and it’s fickle ways and give me space when I need it and offer humor when the time is right.

I have friends who respond with just the right words on days that I’m struggling to keep it together. I have a friend who knows that a concert on a work night is just what the doctor ordered. I have friends who will drive over four hours for a surprise 40th birthday party, just to celebrate me.

I really do have a beautiful life.

The journey of grief really is a lonely one. Thankfully I’m reminded on a regular basis that I don’t have to walk it alone. Sometimes that requires me to reach out and ask for help. Sometimes that requires me to say yes when I really just want to say no. Most importantly, this journey is teaching me how to take one step at a time. I try not to think too much about the future, but instead I focus on the moment I’m currently in. And this moment right now is beautiful.

Anne Brock

Instagram: @livinginthemidst

Website: www.annebrock.com