and the world goes on

Throughout the day, I read blogs and facebook posts. I listen to stories from friends and I watch tv...and throughout it all, I just keep going back to Ecclesiastes 1 where it reads:

Meaningless! Meaningless!"...Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless."

I've been trying to get back into the world. And I'm getting there. But I still think how meaningless so much of this world is. I keep thinking back to when my life was 'normal' I lived a beautiful life with an amazing man. I laughed, so hard. I really laughed. I remember being chased up the stairs by a laughing husband. I remember being jumped out on, just to scare me and I remember in that moment laughing so hard it hurt. I remember finding out I was pregnant...standing in the doctors office and beaming. Beaming so bright. I couldn't wait to tell the one I loved we were having a child. I remember loving each and every moment of pregnancy. I remember being in love with this growing child within. Everything was perfect. All that time waiting...all the bad men I dated and life I lived...all the lessons learned and roads I traveled upon...it all brought me to this point in life. The point of lying on the nursery floor, with the smell of the freshly painted walls, watching the Academy awards and waiting for my husband to come home...being completely and utterly in love with my life...and then 'life' really set in.

Was it all the bad decisions I made in life...all the people I hurt. Was it karma? Is there even such a thing? 'This is the heart and we would normally see it beating'...'I'm so sorry.'.

My life changed. Our life changed. the laughter...the real, guttural laughter left our house. I still wonder if it'll return. Wow...can't believe I'm telling the world this. But there it is. I wonder. I wonder if I'll be chased up the stairs again, laughing so hard and my heart beating so fast that I think it may leap out of my chest.

I've been pregnant 3 times in the past 3 years. 3. I've delivered 3 babies in the past 3 years. 3. Yet only 1 of them is upstairs. Only of them I get to laugh with every day. 1. I have a 1 in 3 track record. 1 in 3.

I think Selah is waiting for us at the hospital. I think she's waiting for us to pick her up. It's been over 6 weeks now. I'm sure she's been cremated and her remains are there...waiting for us to pick her up. In that white plastic box that says baby Newman. Wrapped up in a clear plastic bag with a dog tag and a cremation number. Ashes, no more than a tablespoon or so...that's all that will be left of her. No parent should have to pick that up. I keep thinking about her. I want her home...but it's so hard. Asking Steve to bring home another daughter. Another plastic box of ashes. It's not right. It's just not right.

Instead of laughter, we have ashes. I see happiness around us. I hear the laughter. I see what we've lost. Every day. It surrounds me. And I wonder if it'll ever grace our house again. I long for it. But it eludes me. It's like a mirage, just out of reach. Every time I feel it's closeness, it dissolves just beneath my fingertips.

I'm not saying that I'm not happy. I am. I'm not saying laughter doesn't fill our house...because it does. But it's not the same. There's always something just out of reach. There are always two girls just out of sight. Our girls. Their memory is always just under the surface. Their face's are etched into my mind. Their silence, screams in my ears. Always. There's always someone missing. Tears are always shed. Changing pictures of a growing boy hang on our walls...yet there are 2 of baby girls that will forever remain the same. Never changing.

I used to be in the world of everyone...but now I'm on the outskirts. I'm the one people pity. I'm the one people pray for. I'm the one who grieves...day after day after day. I'm the one people have heard of. The one who lost not one...but two babies. And in a way, I wear that badge with honor. I wear that pain and these tear stained cheeks with pride because that's all I have of my girls. I have memories. I only have, what I can do with this pain. I only have what I do in their memory...in their honor. But it's never enough. Not for me. Not for any parent who never got a moment to feel their child's breath upon their skin. To feel their warmth or taste their tears with their lips. It will never be enough. There will always be something missing.

But what I wonder is if there will ever be a time where what I have, is true happiness. Will I ever be able to let go of my anger and my heartbreak and know that in a few years, I'll be able to spend eternity with my children and know that my life will be full...completely full. Or will I always feel emptiness in my life. As I watch Asher grow..will I continue to see him without his sisters? Or will I let that go and just know that they are watching over him from above? Will there be happiness and laughter as we decorate the Christmas tree in years to come, or will it always just be the time we lost another daughter. The time we lost Selah?

The world goes on. And though I'd love to go one with it, I feel as if I'm stuck in quick sand. In cement. I'm stuck. I'm stuck in this moment in time. I'm stuck with superficial laughter. I'm stuck in a life where there's always loved ones missing. There's healing coming. There's growth coming and understanding and trust out there. It's waiting for me. But it's just out of reach. I see it. But can't reach it. I want it.

I'm a blessed person. I'm truly blessed. I'm breathing for one. I already have friends who have gone before me. I'm married to seriously, the best man I know. The most caring and patient and loving man I know. I have the coolest kid in the world...sorry people, but I do. He rocks. I have a wonderful family who love me and my family and supports me. I have great friends. Amazing friends. I live in the States...which has it's flaws...but it pretty much rocks...I'm blessed. But I don't feel blessed. I feel ripped apart. I feel ripped apart from those I love. And I don't know how to get past that feeling. I want to chase my husband up the stairs. I want to hide in the shadows and scare him. I want to watch a movie and laugh my ass off. I don't want to ever forget my girls...but I want to get to a place where the pain isn't there...constantly pressing down on me.

There was a time in my life where I made a really, really important decision in my life. I was in Ann Arbor...I was interning. I left a relationship and was starting a life that was truly my own. It was a cool, yet warm day. And as I was walking home, the rain started falling down. I looked up to the sky and let the cool rain fall upon my face as if it was washing away all the pain to reveal a new me. It was a feeling I've never felt before. I can't describe it. But I felt as if a heavy weight was lifted and a happiness fell over me that I'd never known before. I used to feel that same joy as I looked out across the water at first beach of LaPush or Kalalock or Salt Creek when I lived in Washington. I want to feel that joy again.

I want my house to be filled with a laughter that's not contained. I want to have a happiness that's bottomless. I miss becoming lost in the love that surrounds me. I miss being chased up the stairs. I miss hearing my husband truly laugh. I miss laughing so hard myself, that my heart feels as if it'll leap out of my chest. I want Asher to grow up seeing that. I want him to remember our laughter. I want it to return.

I know all this pain is forming us and molding us to a life crafted to help others...and I want that. I want to help others. I want to use this pain for healing. But I also want laughter. I want to enjoy life, not see all that we wish we had and may never have. I want to truly, fully, 100% look at my life and be so utterly in love with every aspect of it, that it hurts. And I want to laugh. Fast and hard. I want to gasp for breath, I'm laughing so hard. I want to laugh.