yes, i can grieve

Saturday, January 16, 2016 (ten days ago)
These past few days have been some of the hardest of my life. 
I've been through chemotherapy for cancer and had more surgeries than I can count. I've watched my mom undergo treatments when she, too, was diagnosed with cancer. At another time I thought I might lose my dad. Then I believed that the man I loved would find another young woman to share his life with. When I think of my life's hardest moments, those are what come to mind. 
But as of last Thursday (January 14), all of this changed. My boyfriend had asked my parents' permission to marry me, and they had said they would like to talk to me first. But instead of the discussion being a hopeful and exciting one, I was told that because of my health issues it would be unsafe for me to ever  have children. If I were to conceive, it is almost certain that both me and my child would die. Therefore we would have to look into (non-abortive) ways of preventing a pregnancy from ever taking place. 
Though I had known for a while that it would be unsafe for me conceive, I had never realized the entirety of the situation (and I still do not understand it all). I don't think I was meant to react so strongly to the news; I wasn't meant to take it so hard. But I did. Because I believe that yes, I can grieve for my un-conceived child. I can cry for the baby that will never exist. I can feel sadness for the son or daughter that will never have 50% of my DNA. 
I know that this is nothing compared to a miscarriage, the death of a child, or the news that you or your spouse is incapable of reproduction. I realize that these are distinct griefs and I do not intend to lessen, disparage, or even understand them. 
But right now I am grieving. The very definition of grief is "deep sadness, especially for the loss of someone or something loved." If all proceeds as planned, I will never become pregnant, which means that the child I am mourning for will never truly exist. But my hopes and dreams do exist, and the desire and the love for the little one I will never hold in my arms is real. And the hurt that I feel in my heart is more poignant than any I have ever experienced. 
There are no sympathy cards for this kind of loss. There are no memories to be remembered, because no memories will ever be made. There is no life well-lived, because no life will ever begin. There is, quite simply, nothing.
I know that there will be healing. I know that in time the pain will lessen to be replaced with new joys and new loves. I know that my love for my adopted children will be no less strong than it would be for children who shared my DNA, because love is not in the genes we share, but in the choices we make. I know that one day I will look back at this dark time in my life and understand why God allowed it to happen. 
But right now I am grieving. 
To my baby that will never be,
I am sorry. I love you.
Mommy