Last weekend shortly after dropping Grex off with his dad, I received an email from said dad, informing me that dad's girlfriend is pregnant, and they would be notifying our son of his impending sibling over the weekend. They will also be moving into a new house together this summer.
That's a lot for anyone to process. Especially if that anyone is just eleven. Nevertheless, I assured the X that I thought G would handle the news well, and would no doubt be excited to be a big brother, long after he surely thought all hope was lost. And true to form, Grayson was indeed delighted at the prospect of having a little brother or sister, and took all the upcoming changes in stride, as he always does.
I won't say I didn't have my moments of introspection over the news. Having lost a baby some five years ago, and getting very near the age when all possibility of child-bearing will be gone, there's a certain regret for me that someone else will be providing G with all the joy and excitement of a new sibling. He will have a whole new family, with relationships that I share no part of. Nevertheless, despite those brief feelings of regret, I was surprised to discover that what would have been deeply unsettling news to me six weeks ago is now downgraded to a brief blip on my emotional radar.
That has everything to do with John. Meeting him has opened up doors and windows in my heart. And I find that, astonishingly, I have an entirely new outlook on life: one that is able to look forward with hope and backward without bitterness. Grim emotional baggage I've carried doggedly for years seems to have melted away, as well. What miracle is this?
I spent a lot of time after my divorce being deeply resentful of the fact that the X seemed able to simply jettison our marriage, snip away those pesky ten years, and start fresh. At 36, he could pretty easily re-enter the single life. And with no full-time child to care for, that life was his own to do with what he wished. At 42, it just wasn't the same for me. I doubt many women feel all that comfortable getting back out on the dating market after 40. God knows I wasn't getting any younger or better looking. When he took up with a woman 13 years my junior last summer, I found myself dealing with a whole new round of bitterness that he was starting a brand new life, while mine still seemed damaged and lame: stagnant at best or, at worse, spiraling toward some inevitable solitary denouement as a Crazy Dog Lady. I dreaded the day when he would start a new family, something that was almost certainly no longer an option for me, even if I found someone to start over with at 44.
But the Universe stepped in, and John appeared. It was like that moment in the Wizard of Oz when the scene changes from grim black and white to glorious, saturated Technicolor. I was ushered into a world I had given up believing in: a world where there's love and companionship, trust, laughter and truth. A world with a future. This small change in perception has made it possible for me to let go of much of the bitterness of the past three years. I also find that I now have it in my heart to forgive my ex, at least in part. If I'm not quite able to forgive the hurts of our past, I can at least forgive him for his future, and turn to embrace my own. I may not know exactly what that future will be, but I have a sense of hope and excitement that I haven't felt for many years.
No, I'm not likely to have another baby: to rewind my life and have Overs in the family department. But that's not really what I want. I have my son. I have enjoyed watching him grow through the various stages of childhood to the ripe old age of eleven. But I'm not particularly interested in going backward. All the adventure--the next Great Frontier--lies ahead. And with complete amazement and gratitude, I have found a companion for the journey.
I can't wait to see what it has in store.
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