How Am I to Consider This Pure Joy?
James 1:2-4 says this:"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perserverance. Perserverance must finish it's work so that you may be mature, and complete, not lacking anything."
Putting Howard and Autumn in the social worker's car last night hurt deeply. For me, it felt like another failed attempt in my quest to have a family of my own. I felt like I had loved and now someone else was going to reap the benefits of my labor. I did not feel joy. I felt immature and incomplete.
My pain quickly turned to anger as I sat next to my husband on the sofa, an uncontrolable stream of hot tears running down my face. He had promised me an evening for the two of us - dinner, maybe a movie, and some physical intimacy (but he often makes promises and then finds it difficult to keep them). Since it was getting late, I opted for take-out and an evening in sans movie. Physical intimacy was apparently out of the question. Michael was in another dimension far away from where I was. I couldn't blame him, but I was still angry at him. In addition to my hurt of sending the kids away, I felt rejected and alone. I felt very, very alone. My desire last night was to be physically alone, but I was too tired to act on it. For me, worse than being alone is feeling alone in the presence of the person or persons you want most to accept you and comfort you. If I wouldn't have had to work today, I would have left and gotten a motel room for the night. At least then I could have felt alone and been alone at the same time.
My mind went back to dark places I've been with my husband. It was as though all the conversations about how he didn't want children and saw absolutely no need or use for them came flooding back into the forefront of my conscious. I hated him a little then. I remembered how he ended our relationship, and how he used my desire for children as the main argument for not wanting to be with me. I remembered how I promised him I could live without children if it meant having him. I remembered how even then I knew it was a lie. I remembered how he told me that one day he hoped I would change my mind and that simply being married would be enough. I remembered how last October he finally gave me permission to go off birth control pills, but he said he "didn't want to try to make anything happen". Actually, he never wanted me to go off birth control because he said he believed that if God wanted us to have children, it would happen regardless of what we did to try to prevent it. I'm not sure he and I think about God the same way. I don't think God goes around giving people children against all their good efforts to prevent it from happening. I just don't think of God in that way. My God loves me, and doesn't go about inflicting things on people just because it's "His will".
In his defense, Michael has always been clear with me about what he didn't want. I came into this relationship knowing about his lack of enthusiam for much of anything. He will tell you hew just "doesn't get excited about much". No one would ever describe him as passionate. Occasionally, he will get excited about a sporting event. Aside from that, there is little that I see him happy about. He doesn't even get excited about me. I try very hard to understand this, and appreciate him for who he his and what he does have to offer.
When Michael found out that, in addition to my PCOS, he was sub-fertile (really, really subfertile), he didn't respond at all. He never did say how he felt. It seemed to be information - no more, no less. When the doctor suggested Clomiphene treatment for him, he bought the pills and took them rather haphazardly. It's been a long time since he stopped taking them, and he hasn't said anything about seeking further treatment. It always felt to me like Michael was relieved that he never had to have children. It seemed to put the fire out on my desire to have children - after all, we couldn't afford expensive fertility treatments even if I was willing to go through the physical and emotional side-effects.
I never actually asked Michael if we could become foster parents. I called on my own. When the information arrived, I asked him if he would go to the orientation meeting with me. There, we signed up for the classes. He acted like a jerk when the group suggested doing the classes in 5 weeks as opposed to 10. He hated the classes. He tried his best to look interested. He wouldn't discuss our homework with me between classes, and seemed quite skeptical about the whole thing. At our home visits, he was aloof and almost silent. He seemed disinterested at every home visit. We never really talked about the process, and when I would mention it, he'd say there was nothing he felt the need to talk about. That would usually end it right there.
He cried when we loaded Howard into the social worker's car last night. But I don't think it had a thing to do with wanting to have children. I think he just loved Howard a lot. But I don't think that had anything to do with him wanting a family, or wanting one with me. Howard is easy to like.
I'm wondering today if I've made a mistake. I feel like my friends are pretty good supports. But everyone keeps asking me if we are going to keep doing it, and reinforcing how painful it must be. Uh - yeah. But I don't need people to ask me if I'm going to keep doing this. What the heck else am I supposed to do?
I am having a hard time considering this trial "pure joy".
We once went to a marriage counselor who told us a metaphor for our marriage - she said that I was in the driver's seat, happily driving the car down the highway of life - but that Michael wasn't beside me, or even in the backseat. Heck, he wasn't even right behind me. It was quite possible he wasn't even on the same road. In order for our marriage to work, we had to at the very least get in the same car. And to make it good - he had to drive sometimes. And I would have to slow down.
I don't know anymore if I've made the right decision in having children. Only sometimes do I think I made the right decision in being with Michael. I know he didn't want to marry me when he did. Now it just seems like he's here because he's here - no more, no less. And it feels like if a child shows up at our doorstep, he'll take care of it. But don't ask him to go out of his way to make an effort to make that happen. Don't ask him to find out about adoption agencies, or how to go about doing a private adoption. He expects that since this was my idea, that I will do all the work. And I can't do anymore than I've already done. I'm exhausted.
I'm tired of not having a partner in this adventure. And I don't think this is something anyone should drag their partner into.
I'm going to have to do some soul-searching regarding children. I feel angry, hurt, and alone - thr trifecta of misery. I realize I sound like a real "b".
To quote Beavis, "This sucks more than anything that has ever sucked before."
I think I need french fries. And ice cream.
posted by No Longer In Crisis @ 11/01/2005 11:41:00 AM
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