His Name is Jet

I was doing homework with my son "Charlie" the other day. As he was writing his sentences he noticed that there was something peculiar about the name on the page. He said, "Mom! That's the name of daddy's baby! Jet!"

It's amazing to me how one word can pierce your heart--yet again. One word can have so much meaning and carry so much hurt behind it. Jet is the name, supposedly, of the unborn baby my husband is going to have with another married woman. She is due next week. My "husband" is having the baby that I've wanted for so long. My two pregnancies were a nightmare...I was hospitalized repeatedly and had homecare in addition. Basically I was tied to an IV bag most of my pregnancies. I'd often cry at church and pretty much whenever I'd see a pregnant woman or a baby, because I longed so much to have another. And now I still cry every time I see a pregnant woman or a baby. Only, the hurt and despair is twenty thousand times more potent.

And yet as I sit here, living with my parents and starting over, my "hubby" took no time at all to move on and move in with his girl toy and start a new family. A new family that doesn't include me. He wasted no time throwing out the garbage (me) and trading me in for his "princess" (as he referred to her). So when the old marriage wasn't all he envisioned it to be, he decided to start over. He has a new home, a new car, and a beach camping vacation all set up this summer....AND a baby on the way!!!! Jet, is his name. And the happy new couple are anticipating the day of his arrival and are SOOOOO excited and so blissfully happy together. Like "hubby" said, "I've never felt this way about anyone before....I love her....Why can't you accept it?" In other words, 14 years meant nothing, I mean nothing. In his words, "Our marriage was doomed from the start." A little ironic don't you think, considering his soon to be marriage?????

So yes my heart and my spirit is broken, and I'm trying to hard to see myself the way my Heavenly Father sees me, as his precious daughter. It's hard when I've been repeatedly stomped on and made to feel like "garbage." I truly loved this man deeply. And what's hard to accept is that I'm not sure he loved me all that much and that I just wasn't worth it.

I am really dreading the "blissful news" of next week. I fear that this event will throw me right back to the beginning of the grieving process. I think I'll ask my dad and brother for a priesthood blessing this weekend...