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I find it so hard to say goodbye. I think I'll never see the person again. On the other hand, I can always call or send an e-mail, so saying goodbye shouldn't be so hard. But what happens when the person is no longer there? When they've lived out their 120 years and they are gone? Then I say goodbye and it's permanent. They're no longer there to share things with, to support me, or vice versa, or commiserate with. I can't communicate with them directly. I can pray for their soul, but that's not satisfactory; it feels one-sided. It's very sad for me to say goodbye to someone this way. What about a situation where the person never actually existed? They existed only in my visions of what I wanted for myself, but not in flesh and blood. How can I say goodbye when I never even had the chance to really say hello? We never spoke or touched in life. But in my dreams we did. In my dreams, it was all so real. I held them and cuddled them. They were so cute! Some had curly hair, some had straight; some were blonde headed (like their mom) and some had light brown hair (like their dad). They smiled and cooed. We celebrated the bris or the Kiddush ... and I even allowed myself to dream about their wedding. They learned to walk. These children of my dreams brought home gorgeous artwork from school that I hung on the fridge. In some dreams, there were twins - of course a boy and a girl! So we celebrated a bris, a Kiddush ... and in the wildest dreams even a pidyon ha'ben (redemption of a first born boy). Wow - the people that came! These were global celebrations; if you couldn't come to the event in our town, you celebrated in your town. And in places like Jerusalem, there were celebrations in several neighborhoods. In my dream, there was incredible unity because of our Simcha (joyful celebration). These children existed - they seemed so real. Until I woke up and realized it was a dream. It was a dream that recurred for 25 years, in one form or another. The particulars may have changed, but the basic story line remained the same: I became pregnant, went through a birth, was granted a healthy child, and participated in the ensuing celebrations. But this never happened. I never really said hello. And now it's time to say goodbye. Goodbye to the potential children, goodbye to that part of my life that allows this to happen, and goodbye to the dreams. I don't want to let the dreams go. I don't want to part with the potential that I can create life. I'm forced into that space, like stuffing too many things into a suitcase and pressing them down. I feel the pressure of having to say goodbye before I'm ready. The last time I felt this pressure that was when my grandfather, ob"m, passed away. I was only 17 - he left too soon. I didn't have a choice; I had to say goodbye on that early fall day. I never saw him alive again. I wasn't ready - God took him anyway. It was God's time, not mine. It's the same with these goodbyes. I'm on God's time line. In His infinite wisdom, He's decided that it's time to say goodbye to the children I will never have. He has a plan for me, and being able to biologically create life is not part of this plan. I'm having a hard time accepting this plan. I question it. I struggle with it. It's painful to live out this idea. I'm sad. I'm saying goodbye in the hardest situation possible ... I won't be able to have regular contact. I won't even be able to pray for their souls because they never existed. But maybe, just maybe, they did exist ... in a previous lifetime. Maybe, at some future date when God reveals His Master Plan, I will meet all of these souls and will realize that indeed I was somehow able to create life. Or maybe the Master Plan was that I helped others create life and I will meet those souls who will recognize me as part of their heritage. In hope, there is life. By living in hope, I can learn to say goodbye. Published: Sunday, July 01, 2007
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Other ways of perceiving
I can definitely relate. I had always hoped for at least 4 children, but I birthed none. At 33, I still never believed I would live my life without a husband or children. I have endured not having either. I am now 61. The biological clock stopped ticking 6 years ago. That's when I threw my hands up in the air and finally gave up hope. I had no choice but to let it go and give in to HaShem's Plan for me. However, I do recall some very precious moments... One, when I was just 24 years old, my 3rd grade students shared that I was "like their mother hen and they all felt like my little chickadees!" Then when I was 27, I opened my home to a 10 year old girl whose parents were divorced. When she visited, she would crawl into my bed and read any books she could find. I watched her grow over the years. She's now 44 and we have shared all our life changes together as friends. Years later when I was in my early 50's, there was a knock at my door. I opened it and heard a geshrai from a teen I knew, calling out "Ima!" Inviting her in, I commented "But I'm not your Ima", and she told me how I gave her more in our short times together than her mother ever could. I was deeply moved. There is also M. whom I met when she was 18. She's now 27 years and a mother of 2. Last year she sent me Mother's Day blessings which started out "Dearest Momma". And just recently a young mother asked me if I would be the guardian of her 4 year old daughter. So there must be something to it... this love we show to others... of all ages. I finally figured out that I must have had so many children in all my previous gilgulim, that what lingered was the memory of the feeling of motherhood in this one. Only for me, it wasn't meant to be. There were other tikkunim to do... without a mate and without biological children. And I'm still doing them. I only wish I had known this before.
(72) Monica Waldron, 10/8/2008
At least I am not alone...
After reading this article, I was some what relieved to know I wasn't the only woman who was childless at my age. No matter how much I wanted kids, it never seemed to happen. I have been struggling with this since I was 40 years old. I know its not uncommon that women who are older can still have children, but my plans were to have kids by now. G-d has taken my life in directions I never imagined.
I am trying to be patient and tolerant when it comes to my personal life. I have yet to find Mr. Right, due to the fact that Elmira NY has such a small Jewish community. I just feel like I am struggling to find someone to share my life with.
If anyone has words of wisdom that I are willing to share, I would love to hear from you.
Shalom.
Monica Waldron
mwaldron14905@yahoo.com
(71) Tina, 9/4/2008
Adoption
The problem with adoption is that you need more then it takes to raise a child
(70) Tina, 9/4/2008
The pain is always there
I tried but nothing. I had to give up but the pain is still there and great. It hurts to see people with a bundle of joy in thier life. Was I meant to hurt so much?