Half Full

This week I watched an episode of “The Biggest Loser” that made me cry.

I don’t mean welling up slightly, I’m talking about the kind of sobbing that is generally reserved for funerals. In fact, it was the story of one of the contestants who lost her baby son, daughter AND husband in the blink of an eye due to a car accident. Our most recent ‘failed adoption’ was less than two weeks earlier and emotions are still running high some days. Another contestant kept the tears streaming as she related the story of seeking her mother’s love as she hid in a closet while her mom had sex with strangers for drug money.

I talk about perspective a lot. My best friend (the one besides my husband) had her husband of less than five years die six months ago, at 41 years of age. We knew he was sick but didn’t know it would happen this soon. Around that time, I lost the second job this year—my 6th layoff—and was therefore able to travel to be with my friend during her Shiva, or mourning period. I knew it was the place to be and was oddly grateful for the job loss which afforded me the opportunity to stay close to her. People who heard expressed their sorrow for ‘my loss,’ which made me shudder. INCOMPARABLE, I thought. I have no job, but my beloved husband is still alive.

Oddly, there is a unique balance with my best friend’s life and my own. She possesses things I don’t have, and vice versa. We have been renting an apartment, due to losing our house to toxic mold and a lengthy lawsuit that dragged on for years. She owns her home, due to her husband’s parents dying shortly before they got married. I am between jobs, due to two layoffs and a failed adoption this year, while she is interestingly the Nurse Manager/APRN at one of the busiest Infertility practices in her area (and LOVES what she does there). In fact, her daughter—the light of her life right now—was a product of her work at that office, and is a source of her energy and optimism despite having lost her husband so recently.

I spoke to her yesterday and told her about the episode. I asked her ‘How she was doing’ in that way that lets her know I really want to know. She said she cries every day but still feels “rich” in many ways. She has an appreciation for the beauty of having the most wonderful toddler, a fantastic job and the money to do what she needs to in life. While it is EXTREMELY sad that her husband is gone, this amazing friend of mine shows me what it is like to live without having everything we want all the time.

I know I’ll be employed again—some day. I also know our baby is out there, and with more waiting, we will find each other. Next year if I’m employed, we should be able to buy a house if things keep up this way with the real estate market. And, frankly, our apartment is very nice and offers a beautiful view of the sunset. My darling husband and I both take the time to appreciate that view regularly, and I suggest to those of you in similar situations, that you do the same. It really helps.

One of my Facebook friends posted after that same “Biggest Loser” episode that she nominated herself for that title, since she cried during the show. I feel the exact opposite way about it. After taking inventory of my life, I can confidently assert that, though I may not be the biggest winner, I’ve hardly lost it all.

Tags: domestic adoption, failed adoption, newborn adoption

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