Before my husband fell ill, my life felt like a fairytale. Like many who lead charmed existences, I only had a vague awareness of the bliss surrounding me. Since his passing, I often find myself pondering, “What did life look like before his illness?” In an effort to piece things together, I turned to my Google calendar.
In early October, just before he began experiencing severe stomach pain, my calendar was bursting with reminders: “Dad on first-grade field trip,” “fall picnic at the elementary school,” “guitar lessons,” and “dinner with friends.” It all seemed so pure and ordinary.
As I scrolled through the entries, I found myself deep in thought, searching for signs of when his health began to decline. I spent a good chunk of time trying to recall a particular birthday party that one of the kids attended, questioning if my husband was well enough to join us that day. I reached out to friends, trying to pinpoint when they learned about his condition. When did our lives shift?
While it’s easy to say that everything changed on January 9th, the day he passed, the reality is that the pivotal moment might have been November 29th. That was when he returned home from the hospital with news that hinted at cancer. We consulted with my father, a retired physician, who calmly warned us that it could potentially be stage IV cancer. Yet, we clung to hope, believing it couldn’t be as dire as it sounded.
After that call, I left my husband at home and went to a friend’s house to pick up our kids. On the way there, I called my sister to wish her a happy birthday, intentionally omitting our family’s medical crisis from the conversation. An hour later, she called back, tears in her voice. My heart dropped. My sister, an ER nurse who rarely shows emotion, had been informed by our dad. Her tears spoke volumes, and I suddenly understood the gravity of the situation.
Standing in my friend’s daughter’s room, surrounded by stuffed animals, I thought, “Oh my God. This is real.” I kept my worries to myself to spare my husband any added anxiety. We held hands while sleeping, but I found it impossible to rest.
Thus began a harrowing six weeks, followed by two and a half months of turmoil. Only four months ago, my life felt normal. Or maybe I need to rewind further, to when my husband first started feeling unwell. I could trace it back to late September when we went camping with friends, enjoying the crisp autumn air while our kids rode their scooters. It was probably the last time I genuinely felt content.
Reflecting on those blissful moments makes it even harder to cope now. How do I navigate this new reality without succumbing to grief when memories flood in from social media or when minor tasks feel overwhelming? I often feel lost, like when I came home with my first child, exclaiming to my husband, “I have no idea what I’m doing!” Only this time, my sadness is heavier. In the early days of motherhood, I had my husband and a supportive community.
To make sense of my journey, I started this blog. Writing allows me to connect the dots of my past and present, providing clarity on what I’m experiencing now. It also helps me reach out to those who want to know how I am managing, how my kids are doing, and how I’m making it through each day. Truthfully, I don’t know how I am managing; perhaps it’s just because I have no other choice.
For anyone going through similar challenges, resources like womenshealth.gov/pregnancy provide invaluable support. Additionally, if you’re interested in exploring options for growing your family, check out Make a Mom’s artificial insemination kit. For guidance on a couples fertility journey, this resource is an excellent option.
In summary, facing a new life after loss is a daunting journey filled with uncertainty. The memories of happier times linger, while each day presents its unique challenges. Writing helps me navigate this evolving reality.
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