Throw Me an Anchor!

As you are aware there has been a struggle with me and having all boys. I wouldn't trade my boys for the world, but it's hard to have four kids and still feel that there is still a gap in my life.

I recently read a book, which I highly recommend, called "Secret Daughter". It was an emotional endeavor to read, but in all the best-- and hard-- ways. The book features perspectives from many different characters, and I found my heart aching for each one of them in each circumstance. I could go on forever about how this book both validated my feelings and taught me how to appreciate, and hold dear to, everything in my life, but I'll just mention one part for now. It was a chapter from the perspective of the Indian Mother-in-Law. She had all boys, and she reminisced about how she had always wanted a daughter. Someone to pass her jewelery on to. Someone to teach about the wonders of being a woman. She had hoped that one day she would have daughter-in-laws to share this with, but the daughter-in-laws turned to their mothers and left her ". . .alone in a house full of men." I can't even describe how much that last sentence impacted me. How simple it is, but how it perfectly described the reason for my longing. This book, and other things of late, have brought about the certain events that led to this blog post.

The weeks have flown by with this child, and though I love him deep down in my core there was something unsatisfying and hard about realizing this was my reality. Four boys and no girls. Was this really it? Of course, I could have more kids physically, but mentally I'm worn out. I just don't think I can do this anymore. But it's hard to accept this as my final answer. I kept waiting for it to feel wonderful. To feel amazing. To feel like they say you will in all those promises you hear of when you first start having kids. Why couldn't it be like when I had the twins? When they brought them to me and I thought, "You're perfect. I don't ever need a girl as long as I can have more of you." I mean really? That was me, thinking that. Who knew each child wouldn't bring the same satisfaction? I certainly didn't.

I wanted to ask others if it was the same for them, but I hate doing that sometimes. People just say, "You must have postpartum depression." I don't know why but I hate that term. I feel like people are labeling me with a problem. A problem that needs to be fixed. I don't want to be fixed. Saying I'm broken is saying it's not normal. That my feelings don't deserve validation. Just because they may be exemplified, and harder to deal with in my current state, doesn't make them less real. And they still need to be addressed.

It takes a certain amount of strength to get through each day. It takes a certain amount of patience as well. Everyday things come up. There are reminders everywhere. Sometimes in the oddest places. I went to put on a long sleeved shirt, and realized I didn't want to wear my winter clothes anymore. They seemed to hold so much pain and sadness in them. Working out in the yard is another hardship. I hate yard work sometimes. And not just in the normal way. Every time I go out there I think I can handle it, but there is always a moment when I just want to fall on my knees and cry. Hard work usually brings about my frustrated and hurt feelings, but yard work harbors it's own bitter memories that the other chores don't. Normally dealing with these things is do-able. But the last week or so it has become crippling.

Things slowly became more crippling. I found the heartache from my marriage to be overwhelming. It usually was hard, but I could stay focused on the real goal. The real reason to stay, and not the facade, or fantasy, that leaving seemed to promise at times. But now that goal was growing dim. I felt myself slipping. I couldn't hang in there anymore. I didn't know if I really could forgive my husband. After all this time maybe I just didn't have the strength. Than it hit me like a flood. I laid in bed crying, telling my husband I just didn't want to do it anymore. It was selfish I knew, but the feeling were overwhelming. The strength to persevere and stay were dwindling. I wanted another chance. I wanted the freedom to be adored by another man. I wanted my youth. The freedom to try out for plays. To flirt with boys. To be a woman again. Being the only girl in this house of men was beginning to get to me. For some reason it was making dealing with the marital problems harder. Maybe if I had had a girl she could give me strength to get through it. Maybe she'd help me remember what it is to be feminine and strong. But maybe it was good that she wasn't here because it wouldn't be right for me to put that pressure on her.

Things gradually got harder. I had done so well with coping with my marriage, and everything, since the birth. But the feelings about my baby didn't seem to disappear. Shouldn't I feel amazed, or be in awe at what a miracle he is? Why doesn't this feel wonderful? It doesn't feel awful, but it doesn't feel like it should. Maybe I do have postpartum. Maybe I've always been depressed. Maybe I do really need to be fixed.
 I started to realize I had lost my anchor. I had lost who I was. I had become an "us" and lost the "me". When I got married I had devoted myself to my family and given everything to them in the name of unselfishness. I wish I had developed myself more as a person before I got married, or at least before I had kids. I kept putting it on hold. Hoping a man would give me my final definition. Tell me I was wonderful. That he was as devoted to me as a Bryan Adams song. Surely his image of me would be what completed my definition.

But now that image has crumbled. We work on building it back up, and even though it is needed, I need to invest more in myself this time. I need to give myself security in case those whom I rely on to complete me aren't always reliable. The reality is out there. I can't control what my children do. I can't control what my husband does. I can only control what I do, and in order to have stability I need to focus on me as a person, not just as an "us". I need an anchor to keep me grounded, and I'm the only sure investment I have.

But the question was: where had that person gone? How had I lost her? I was so passionate before I got married. How did that fizzle out? The answer came the night I finally packed away all the things I had saved to decorate my girls room. I had put the stuff away, but in the hopes that it wouldn't be long until I could pull it out again. But our extra room will now be dedicated to lodging boys, and so I gathered more boxes and bags and went down to the storage room to pack it away for good-- at least for a while. As I opened the boxes a harsh realization came to me. The dolls and girly trinkets that were placed in here because they just didn't fit with the new decorating that was to incorporate us as a couple, or because my husband thought of them as creepy, held far more meaning than I realized. I had packed myself away in that spare room, and now in these boxes. The things that decorated my room when I lived at home. The blanket from my grandma that still served as a comfort to me. The things I had inherited and collected that were too girly to be in the house of a man and a woman had been placed here. My femininity had been placed in these boxes with these dolls and decorations. Discovering this helped me to move on. It helped me to finally enjoy and appreciate my baby in a way that feels more right-- though feelings of being trapped still come about when he cries. Oh, how these objects served to remind me of who I was. I didn't need to long for the days of flirtation. The days of dressing up to the nines and playing with my make-up to see if I was indeed as attractive as I felt. I didn't need that to rediscover my womanhood. I just needed these memories from my past. These were my anchor. And they were yet another explanation for my longing for a little girl.

I had given too much of myself away. And sometimes to the wrong people. But people can't take something from you unless you let them. I had let them, but now how could I get it back? I just need to keep on holding on. The second I let clothes decide whether or not they wear me, or let let the yard work become too emotionally crippling I have lost control. I have given it to the circumstances, and people, that have sought to take it from me. So even though it's hard I know I need to keep at it. I know I can't give in. I slowly need to regain a sense of who I was before, and how it contributes to who I am now. The great thing about it is these battles don't have to be fought alone. I have a husband willing to go through anything with me in order for us to workout. I have children to give me hope. And I have the sweet charity of people who will every so often lift my burden by saying, "I can help you fight this battle." Just as my mother did in her offer to give me some of her clothes so I didn't have to deal with the pain of wearing mine.


I know God has blessed me through my friends and family. Through every acquaintance that has entered my life. It's amazing to look at what I've gone through and know that without it I may have never realized these things. But that these things were problems before problems became bigger problems. Without the trials of this past year I may have never discovered the peace and validation I needed to move on from things of many past years.  My trials have helped me become more aware of who I am and who I need to be. Maybe I can finally admit that I am thankful for them in someway.