August has been a very slow month for me overall, but I have been enjoying precious time with my kids and going on adventures together, creating memories that I will cherish forever. We’ve explored nearby parks, visited the beach, and even tried our hand at baking some fun treats in the kitchen. I am looking forward to the start of school again, as I believe it will bring a renewed sense of structure to our lives. At night, after my kids are asleep, my mind will often wander to what my life was going to become, filled with dreams and aspirations, and if I would ever stop crying all the time, wishing for brighter days ahead. I find myself reflecting on my personal journey, realizing that it’s okay to have these feelings, but I still struggle with them. I am gearing up for another night of telling myself that crying myself to sleep is not the way to go when my phone rings, interrupting my thoughts and pulling me back to the present moment. It’s Sasha, whose voice I know will offer a comforting distraction and perhaps even a bit of laughter amidst my swirling emotions.
“Hey, sorry I know it’s late, but I wanted to ask you something,” she says in a tired voice.
“Sure, shoot,” I say as I sit down at the foot of my bed.
“If you and John had worked out, but for whatever reason, you weren’t getting pregnant would you have left him?”
“No,” I sigh. “I could have made my peace with not having another baby if that happened. I wouldn’t leave a marriage to a man that I loved just because of that. I just don’t want to wake up one day and be 50 and not being able to, and regretting that I hadn’t even tried.” I lay back on my bed. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Something I was sitting here thinking about. You know, how much you would have held onto the dream of another baby over your love and relationship for a man.” She yawns.
“I want the husband too. I want a relationship too, this is not just about another baby, but the person I wind up with will want to at least try for our own, and if it’s not in God’s plan and it doesn’t happen, then so be it. I will make my peace with it. Just like if I never meet anyone again, I will find a way to at least try for that baby on my own.”
“Good. That makes me feel better hearing that because I didn’t want you to go full baby crazy lady.” She chuckles and I do too.
“I am realistic. I just want a chance with a new husband who loves me, loves my kids, and wants to create a family, and if that means we just have my three kids, then that’s okay too.”
“And I think you’ll get that. That is not a crazy wish.”
“I just don’t know why I have to go through John first. Some days it feels like grief all over again, and I am so tired of feeling it and so tired of crying. I really thought when I had that kind of connection with someone again that it would have gone very differently.”
“God has a plan for us all and you are grieving him. He meant something to you, and you wanted a life together. I think it would be weirder if you weren’t grieving it,” she says half-asleep.
The tears that I had been fighting off for much of the night start to flow. “Well, it looks like I am about to have another cry fest, so here is where I say good night.”
“Let yourself cry as much as you need to. It will cleanse you. Good night—one day it will feel better again.”
We hang up, and for another night of the second longest summer of my life, I sit alone in my room crying. I wonder why I had to go through this after all that I went through with Phil. It just didn’t seem fair. If I were a bad person or if I cheated people—I would understand the difficulty level of my life. But I am not those things. All I have ever done in my life is help people, work hard, and want to love and be loved. I cannot comprehend why God has me on this path when I look at the people around me living happy lives. I think, why hasn’t it ever been my turn?
I can usually pull myself out of the pity party thoughts, but tonight, I allow myself to wallow in them and cry as hard as I possibly can. I let the grief erupt from me in choking sobs until I am too tired to continue. As I lay down, the release feels both cathartic and exhausting. To my surprise, I eventually drift off to sleep, hoping that tomorrow might bring a little more clarity and peace to my heart. It’s a cycle of grief and longing that I am beginning to recognize but fear the weight of it still wears heavily on me. What does it mean to love so deeply, only to feel such an emptiness? I can only hope that with time, the answers will find me.
Katherine Kuzma-Beck 
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