Dear Reader,
Assuming there is actually still someone still out there? If so I hope you are well. You made it through the worst of the COVID-19 pandemic and that is no small feat. When I last wrote - 2017, goodness -- I had no idea the world would be turned upside down and I would watch patient after patient die while I had nothing to offer except empathy (including my own Zayde who died of post-COVID pneumococcal pneumonia complicated by bacteremia and empyema). I had no idea I would have tears in my eyes when I got to schedule and take the first dose of the vaccine -- on the eighth day of Chanukkah, what a miracle! Or that, almost a year later, I would say a Shehecheyanu blessing when my children got theirs. I never thought masks would be a political statement.
I didn't expect my sweet A to be diagnosed with a brilliant intellect yet struggle with ADHD. Thank goodness for dexmethylphenidate! (Yes, we are Pharm-free on this blog!)
I didn't expect my sweet J to be just as smart.
I never dreamed I would get to witness and love such miracles.
I also never thought I'd write the following: Husband wants to divorce. He feels we simply are too different and will be happier, better people and better parents apart. He wants to remain good friends. Thinks we could still visit his family together. So we are trying to work out an amicable, uncontested, divorce.
I feel crushed. Heartbroken. Humiliated. Sad. Angry Devastated. Everything everywhere all at once. I feel like we won't be a family anymore. I can't bear the thought of not seeing my babies (yes, I know they aren't babies anymore) every day. And I would still rather work this out. We can get along and we owe it to our kids to do so. What happened to commitment?
But once again, major aspects of my life are not mine to control - even fight to change. I couldn't do anything to make a successful transfer happen and I couldn't stop a virus. And I can't stop this.
But I did do something to control infertility, right? I kept trying until we got our miracles. And I kept putting on that N95 and holding patients' hands until things improved. So maybe I can get though this? I don't believe it at all right now. It's too fresh. But maybe once again, after another six years, I will be in a better place?
