update on 'me'
I keep getting asked 'how are you?' And I understand the question. I realize why people ask it...I'd probably ask it...but how does one answer that? Do people really want to know. I mean, is it OK to say 'well, actually...quite shitty actually.' Or do they want to know that I'm OK? Is it time for me to feel OK? Do they think I should feel OK by now.
It's been 3 weeks, and I can't believe it's been 3 weeks. 3 weeks and 2 days since I was truly happy. 100% happy. 100% content. That's the truth. I've been broken for 3 weeks and 2 days. I've been torn apart. But I'm also doing OK. I'm breathing and living and I've been laughing...tonight I was laughing at Asher so hard I could barely breath. And when I looked over at Steve, he was too...and for a second, I think we were truly happy again...for a second.
I'm to the point where I'm still mad, but I know I need to let it go. I know that my madness will never bring my child, my children, back to me. It won't make my sorrow any less. It won't honor my children. It won't do anything positive in my life. It will only make the darkness worse. It will only shadow my love and happiness and life and family. That's not what I want.
But I also want hope, and I really don't have that anymore. I want ignorance, and I REALLY don't have that. I want to hear about other people's pregnancy and be happy, not sad. I want...I want...I want...but also I know I need the right attitude to reach these desires. It's just so damn hard to get there.
For the past 2 weeks Ashers been throwing mini tantrums. He's started to get mad at a drop of the hat and then go limp when I try to pick him up. He's been clenching his fists and grunting at me. He's been talking back at me and shouting NO, NO, NO! Can I do this please? I can throw myself in God's presents right now and lay down kicking and screaming? Please? I know it sounds silly, but man, it would really feel good. I'd really love to feel Him picking me up in His powerful hands and just trying to talk me down. Trying to explain everything to me.
I was walking in the snow with Asher today and was noticing the tracks we were making. Asher's little, wee bootprints as he trodden through the 5 inches or so of untouched snow and my clodhopper prints just off to his side. We played in the snow for a bit and then I picked him up to carry him back to the front. He of course didn't want to leave...he wanted to swing...but he was frozen and I needed to get him inside. So, it was time to commence the tantrum. It was time to play the role of a wet noodle in a huge snowsuit. And as I was trying to walk with him and not drop him noodle body, I immediately thought of the footprints poem. Ya know, the one where it talks about footprints in the sand being 'yours' and Gods and the times in life where there was only one footprint trail were the time's God was carrying 'you'. And I thought, how wonderful if you could actually have that. I mean, we do. I know God is here with him, paining over my agony. But He's not here. Not literally. He's not physically holding me. And I, like countless others, would sure like to be able to be held in His arms right about now. I'd really like Him to be talking me down, explaining to me 'why'. Just as I talk with Asher, carry Asher, hug and kiss Asher, I wish I could have that now with Christ.
But I can't. I can throw myself down, and He would see me...but I couldn't physically get a response from Him...wow...maybe that's what I want. A response. Well, I'm not going to be getting that either. So my OK has to be good enough right now. And so, here's the honest truth to the question.
It's been 3 weeks, and I can't believe it's been 3 weeks. 3 weeks and 2 days since I was truly happy. 100% happy. 100% content. That's the truth. I've been broken for 3 weeks and 2 days. I've been torn apart. But I'm also doing OK. I'm breathing and living and I've been laughing...tonight I was laughing at Asher so hard I could barely breath. And when I looked over at Steve, he was too...and for a second, I think we were truly happy again...for a second.
I'm to the point where I'm still mad, but I know I need to let it go. I know that my madness will never bring my child, my children, back to me. It won't make my sorrow any less. It won't honor my children. It won't do anything positive in my life. It will only make the darkness worse. It will only shadow my love and happiness and life and family. That's not what I want.
But I also want hope, and I really don't have that anymore. I want ignorance, and I REALLY don't have that. I want to hear about other people's pregnancy and be happy, not sad. I want...I want...I want...but also I know I need the right attitude to reach these desires. It's just so damn hard to get there.
For the past 2 weeks Ashers been throwing mini tantrums. He's started to get mad at a drop of the hat and then go limp when I try to pick him up. He's been clenching his fists and grunting at me. He's been talking back at me and shouting NO, NO, NO! Can I do this please? I can throw myself in God's presents right now and lay down kicking and screaming? Please? I know it sounds silly, but man, it would really feel good. I'd really love to feel Him picking me up in His powerful hands and just trying to talk me down. Trying to explain everything to me.
I was walking in the snow with Asher today and was noticing the tracks we were making. Asher's little, wee bootprints as he trodden through the 5 inches or so of untouched snow and my clodhopper prints just off to his side. We played in the snow for a bit and then I picked him up to carry him back to the front. He of course didn't want to leave...he wanted to swing...but he was frozen and I needed to get him inside. So, it was time to commence the tantrum. It was time to play the role of a wet noodle in a huge snowsuit. And as I was trying to walk with him and not drop him noodle body, I immediately thought of the footprints poem. Ya know, the one where it talks about footprints in the sand being 'yours' and Gods and the times in life where there was only one footprint trail were the time's God was carrying 'you'. And I thought, how wonderful if you could actually have that. I mean, we do. I know God is here with him, paining over my agony. But He's not here. Not literally. He's not physically holding me. And I, like countless others, would sure like to be able to be held in His arms right about now. I'd really like Him to be talking me down, explaining to me 'why'. Just as I talk with Asher, carry Asher, hug and kiss Asher, I wish I could have that now with Christ.
But I can't. I can throw myself down, and He would see me...but I couldn't physically get a response from Him...wow...maybe that's what I want. A response. Well, I'm not going to be getting that either. So my OK has to be good enough right now. And so, here's the honest truth to the question.
- I'm OK. I think I'm really OK.
- I'm still really pissed.
- I'm still struggling with my faith. Big time. Though pastor Steve's honesty this weekend really helped me feel like I wasn't failing too miserably and that maybe I still have a chance to let Him back in.
- I drink too much wine at night to dull the pain and I know that's wrong, but I don't care.
- I look at Asher everyday and realize that I'm happy, truly happy. But I'd still love to give him a sibling.
- I still long to be pregnant and there are still times where I catch myself thinking it was all just a dream.
- I get really pissed off when I start feeling my organs pop back into place because it feels like Selah's kicking me. Those feelings haunt me.
- My pregnancies haunt me.
- I torment myself about things that are probably way too much out of my control to have done differently, yet I still think about them.
- Every night as I lay in bed, I think about Selah. I think about my pregnancy and I miss feeling her. I lay my hand upon my now saggy belly, hoping and praying that I could feel her. But obviously I never do.
- I still hope I can dream of her, but never do.
- I worry each time I leave the house that someone will ask when I'm due. Or when I delivered.
- It maddens me beyond belief when people ignore me, yet I understand why they do.
- I'm sad each day at some point in the day. I'm broken.
- but I'm OK.
- I'm breathing
- I'm living
- I'm laughing, and at times so hard, I can't breathe.
Comments
Our pastor read a poem last week that brought tears to my eyes because it reminded me of our losses. Why is it that we do learn more from sorrow than from pleasure? I hope you don't mind me sharing it...
I walked a mile with Pleasure,
She chattered all the way,
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow,
And never a word said she,
But, oh, the things I learned from her
When sorrow walked with me.
Although I have experienced nothing even remotely close to what you and Steve are facing now, I have over the past few years, spent time in darkness - angry at God, scared, hurt, let down and distraught.
Your words about wanting a physical presence of God to hold you, to comfort you, to sooth you and explain to you is something I longed (and still long) for....
It was during that time that someone shared with me, that God's presence is here in the people around us. I know that sounds "cliche", but God's arms embraced me when my husband held me as I cried. God's strong arms carried me, when my friends literally picked me up off the floor. I hadn't ever thought of that before in the same way it hit me during my days in darkness.
I pray that He makes His presence known to you in real tangible ways.