Tag Archives: childlessness


I wish I could tell you that I was going great and that you could be too, but I can’t.  We have been traveling, I have been stressing and I haven’t been exercising, like, at all.  I store my pills on top of the refrigerator at my parent’s house (which is where my little family is for the holiday) and something happened that caused them to fall on the ground and spill everywhere.  I found (we found) most everything but the cogentin, which is designed to get rid of side effects.  If I miss it I’ll just be a walking zombie.  That’s all.

Got in to it a bit with a friend, one of my favorite people in the world, in fact.  She said in her blog that she knew that God wouldn’t give her more than she could handle.  I think that’s untrue.  If any of you, and I know all of you, have struggled with everything we struggle with, in your soul you know you’ve been given more.  She quoted 1 Corinthians 10:13. ” No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.” Wanna midrash it? Love ya! xoxo.  I love that verse, but that’s not what it means.

I wrote back:  I would love to. That verse is clearly talking about temptation. While he is working through you and around you and all about you, temptation may come your way and you will be able to resist it. That is the promise. If you are tempted there is a way out of that temptation, not that you are able to handle even the temptations thrown upon you – you will be able to get out of them – Not that you will not get more than you can handle. xxoo right back at you!

Does any of this help you?  It’s helped me in the past, I hope it helps you.  Some how revelations lose some of their sting after a while.  I just try and remember that when I hear this “God won’t give you any more than you can handle.”  Yes, he can.  Yes, he has.

I’ve been vomiting intermittently and my breasts have been very tender.  It’s times like that it’s hard not to imagine a little girl, maybe named Anna Lynn or a boy named Aaron.  There is no baby though, Mr. M’s vasectomy was five months ago and his doctor has never had a lapse.  It’s good, of course, we don’t need another child, six years younger than our first.  Exposed to all sorts of meds and born to a mother who is a whack job.  Small knows about my miscarriage, sweet little Isabella, and how she would have had a big sister.  I told her I wasn’t sad anymore.  And she said, “because of me?”  And I said, yes, because of you.

I almost didn’t write that.  I know not having a baby at the holidays can be even worse than usual.  The babies are dressed in precious little outfits.  People send family pics specifically to offend you or make you jealous.  Friends your younger sibling’s ages are bulging with unexpected pregnancies.  Does it ever end?   One year, shortly after I received the news that we were to have no more children, I was holding one of my brother’s friend’s newborns.  I wanted to throw it.  I didn’t realize how much it would hurt, or why these feelings would plague me.  It was only later, days later, even after a call to the psychiatrist who wanted me to go straight to the emergency room, that I guessed why it hurt so much and how I could hate this baby so much.

I have a friend who spends holidays at the coast.  She had an alcoholic father and has never had children.  She didn’t marry until late in life and her husband was agoraphobic.  He literally never went anywhere.  Any way, she was too sad coming to family events and feeling completely alone that she skips the whole thing.  I’m not recommending that, but it might be a way to cope for a year or two.  You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.