There has been a lot about this entire story that hurts to talk about and I'm sorry that my posts for the last week have been a bit on the somber side. I promise that there will be humor in the future-we haven't even gotten to the the really good parts yet that involve being naked, more conversations that no person should ever have with another human being, and of course the "sounding" procedure that just leaves me hanging out there. However, we are at the point in the story that breaks my heart the most about the whole flippin' situation. It was the one thing that hit me in the stomach, took my breath away, and made me feel like tears weren't even a good enough response.
In order to understand the gravity of the following story, I need to give you a little background. My hubby is a 4th. His great grandfather, grandfather, father, and he all have the same name. Names are a very big deal to my hubby. He is very much a person that believes in old school names that come from previous family members or the Bible. I am a girl with a rather boyish first name, so it doesn't bother me as much, but it's HUGE deal to him. I can remember talking about children more than a decade ago before we were married and he said that he definitely wanted a 5th. So a little boy with V behind his name was on the agenda for us. Every now and then I harass him stating that I don't think that I want a 5th or that the mother gets to decide what goes on the birth certificate, so he better be nice to me. But, that is all in jest. I know that the whole name thing is very important to him.
You also need to know that my hubby's younger (by 2 years) and his wife were also expecting their 3rd child. Yes, I cried when we found out. Please don't hear that I was jealous. I was not. I am very happy for them. They are a good, solid, Christian couple and are great parents to their 2 little girls and now the 3rd - a little boy was on the way very soon. I was just sad for myself - sad that we didn't have good news like that to share with the family - sad that it was not our turn. My sadness was not in any response to them. It is about me and us.
Now that you have all the background: After our phone call to my hubby's parents on Sept. 19th, we sat and just held each other and were sad together. Saying the words aloud made them real. After some discussion and trying to talk about things, hubby looked at me through tears and said, "Maybe I should call my brother and tell him to go ahead and use the family name. It doesn't look like I'm going to get to use it."
Sad is not a big enough word to describe what I felt. Tears were not enough to express my feelings. That was the point in this process that, if I forget everything, I will never forget that. That was the lowest point.