One thing I will never pretend to understand is God. I honestly gave up trying. I don't understand why good things happen to bad people; why bad things happen to good people. I think I fall somewhere in the middle of those two groups, so those idiosyncrasies don't apply; so sometimes your normal-make-mistakes-and-try-to-live-right people get the shaft, too.
Yet God stumped me again yesterday. All morning I felt restless and this deep need to go to the cemetery. I don't go out there often. Probably about every two weeks for less than five minutes at a time, just to tidy up and make sure nothings taken and his headstone is clean. So for me to get a deep urge to go was odd. And I knew that if I didn't go it would bother me until I did.
So on lunch I drove over, just to do a quick drive by. As I drove in I became upset with God and his cruelty (as it felt in that moment). Very close to Colton's resting spot was a large canopy, chairs, and a tiny table set up for a funeral.
My heart skipped a few beats, my breathing was quick and shallow. I thought I might pass out from the anxiety and gut-wrenching pain that streaked through me.
Now, Colton is buried in a little baby area that has a row of cremations to the front and sides of the designated baby spaces. So, it's very possible this was for a cremation and not a baby. That was my only saving thought at the time. Maybe it wasn't a baby.
That didn't stop the tears though. Seeing the same set up we'd had eight months earlier just broke me. That day flooded back through me with the same current of anguish as if they'd set it up just for me again.
Why oh why, God, did you send me out there? Why did you bring up such pain and memories? Why would you torment me like that.
I wish I had a deep revelation or a peaceful feeling of "this is to help me heal and move on". I don't feel that way whatsoever. It was torture. And I keep fighting myself from calling to just ask if another baby was lost, another angel taken too soon. Another broken mother wandering this world missing the child ripped from her body and her soul.
Nothing would be accomplished by it, though. So I just wipe my tears, quietly sink into the silence, and pray this too will pass.
God redeemed Himself, as He often does, with a perfectly timed call from a perfectly wonderful friend. The news she carried was uplifting, a promise of good things to come. I didn't tell her (though she'll know now) how much I needed that distraction, that call. To be pulled from disorientation to direction and purpose again...
Matthew 5:4 - Blessed are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Inspiration
"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge - myth is more potent than history - dreams are more powerful than facts - hope always triumphs over experience - laughter is the cure for grief - love is stronger than death."
- Robert Fulghum
Sometimes I actively search out inspiration to get me through the days. Today was one of those days. Yesterday ended up being more difficult that I thought it would be. I think the realization that next month will be nine months. For me, life is lived in three month spans, especially the life of an infant/child. Each three months is a milestone. This next 'milestone' is the last before the one year birthday/anniversary/whatever the hell it is now.
I couldn't fall asleep last night. I tossed and turned and tossed and turned. I thought I'd feel better when going to bed. A dear friend had out of the blue reached out to me and expressed how much she thought about me and Colton; how much Colton has touched her life. It made me feel so amazingly proud and full of light and happiness. Yet, when I went to lay down for the night I couldn't calm the anxiety and the sadness.
For almost two hours I fought my thoughts and begged myself to succumb to the physical and mental fatigue I felt. All to no avail. I finally reached over to the side of my bed and grabbed Colton's blanket. I pulled it close to my face. I felt the warmth and softness and I swear I smelt him in there. The comfort was instantaneous. I laid my head on the blanket and I fell into sleep.
I woke up still snuggled in his blanket. Through the night I must have gripped it like a winning lottery ticket.
I don't know why I have these spells of deep loss and sadness. Quite frankly it frustrates me and I get so irritated with myself. I feel like I have worked so hard to heal and yet I (feel like) I fail. I appreciate those around me who remind me it's "only been" x months, less than a year. And, that I'll always grieve, always hurt, always miss him.
So, anyways, after a night like last night I needed some inspiration. In searching I found the quote above and felt ... validation. Strength.
Things will get better.
- Robert Fulghum
Sometimes I actively search out inspiration to get me through the days. Today was one of those days. Yesterday ended up being more difficult that I thought it would be. I think the realization that next month will be nine months. For me, life is lived in three month spans, especially the life of an infant/child. Each three months is a milestone. This next 'milestone' is the last before the one year birthday/anniversary/whatever the hell it is now.
I couldn't fall asleep last night. I tossed and turned and tossed and turned. I thought I'd feel better when going to bed. A dear friend had out of the blue reached out to me and expressed how much she thought about me and Colton; how much Colton has touched her life. It made me feel so amazingly proud and full of light and happiness. Yet, when I went to lay down for the night I couldn't calm the anxiety and the sadness.
For almost two hours I fought my thoughts and begged myself to succumb to the physical and mental fatigue I felt. All to no avail. I finally reached over to the side of my bed and grabbed Colton's blanket. I pulled it close to my face. I felt the warmth and softness and I swear I smelt him in there. The comfort was instantaneous. I laid my head on the blanket and I fell into sleep.
I woke up still snuggled in his blanket. Through the night I must have gripped it like a winning lottery ticket.
I don't know why I have these spells of deep loss and sadness. Quite frankly it frustrates me and I get so irritated with myself. I feel like I have worked so hard to heal and yet I (feel like) I fail. I appreciate those around me who remind me it's "only been" x months, less than a year. And, that I'll always grieve, always hurt, always miss him.
So, anyways, after a night like last night I needed some inspiration. In searching I found the quote above and felt ... validation. Strength.
Things will get better.
Monday, July 18, 2011
One thing I know for sure .. .. ..
We will not be having a baby for ourselves anytime soon. I thank God now that he threw obstacles in our way preventing us from trying.
In the beginning, right after losing Colton, I was obsessed with "when can we try again". I pushed Brian a lot to give me some indication of when he'd be ready. I needed to have another baby. I needed to fill the nursery with a child, with crying and giggling and late night nursing. I NEEDED it.
I was desperate for Brian and I to have a child together. We are so right together and our child would be raised by both parents in one home, something our other children don't have. I wanted to share a child with Brian, our child, our flesh and blood in one. I NEEDED it.
Through the past eight months of waiting and having the time to work through the emotions, my feeling about the situation has changed completely.
I no longer need a child. We have children. A whole home full, more than a lot of people are blessed with. I don't feel that deep need to have one of ours now. It's a want, not a need. And we have a child together. We made a beautiful little boy and he'll forever be our child. Even though he doesn't live here with us, we don't get to watch him grow, we don't have him here, he's still ours. If we have another child it will be a second child for us. Another blessing, another addition to our family.
I don't NEED to fill the nursery. I don't NEED to have a child.
I need to heal. I need to make it past his first birthday and see how that goes. I need to come to a place of complete peace and understanding. I need to be able to separate Colton and any other pregnancy/child we'd have. Mostly, I need to know we'd be having a child because we want to and that there's no need involved.
I refuse to have a replacement child. I refuse to work through my pain with another baby. I refuse to use a child to heal wounds they have no responsibility for.
And, truthfully, I may never get to the point that I will feel I'm far enough along tin healing o make that decision. We may never try again. If we do, though, we'll know it's for all the right reasons and for the hope of a new child, not the loss of another. Until then, we heal and love and pray and move forward to whatever our future holds.
In the beginning, right after losing Colton, I was obsessed with "when can we try again". I pushed Brian a lot to give me some indication of when he'd be ready. I needed to have another baby. I needed to fill the nursery with a child, with crying and giggling and late night nursing. I NEEDED it.
I was desperate for Brian and I to have a child together. We are so right together and our child would be raised by both parents in one home, something our other children don't have. I wanted to share a child with Brian, our child, our flesh and blood in one. I NEEDED it.
Through the past eight months of waiting and having the time to work through the emotions, my feeling about the situation has changed completely.
I no longer need a child. We have children. A whole home full, more than a lot of people are blessed with. I don't feel that deep need to have one of ours now. It's a want, not a need. And we have a child together. We made a beautiful little boy and he'll forever be our child. Even though he doesn't live here with us, we don't get to watch him grow, we don't have him here, he's still ours. If we have another child it will be a second child for us. Another blessing, another addition to our family.
I don't NEED to fill the nursery. I don't NEED to have a child.
I need to heal. I need to make it past his first birthday and see how that goes. I need to come to a place of complete peace and understanding. I need to be able to separate Colton and any other pregnancy/child we'd have. Mostly, I need to know we'd be having a child because we want to and that there's no need involved.
I refuse to have a replacement child. I refuse to work through my pain with another baby. I refuse to use a child to heal wounds they have no responsibility for.
And, truthfully, I may never get to the point that I will feel I'm far enough along tin healing o make that decision. We may never try again. If we do, though, we'll know it's for all the right reasons and for the hope of a new child, not the loss of another. Until then, we heal and love and pray and move forward to whatever our future holds.
Eight months ...
Already. Eight months today my little man was born. These last few weeks have been another roller coaster. It still catches me off guard when the dips come. I feel so good for weeks then suddenly I hit rock bottom again.
It started a few weeks ago when I got a random email from Amazon ... to notify me something from my baby registry had been purchased and was on its way!! What??!! I scoured the registry to figure out what they were talking about and there hadn't been activity for a long, long time. No reason for it to show up. Glitch in the system I suppose. Nevertheless, a tough email to receive.
Then last weekend I overdid it. Baby overload and complete meltdown followed. We threw a baby shower for my coworker and I offered to do games and purchase the presents. Which was fine. I was doing really well with it until it actually all happened. My mind kept floating back to my shower and my celebration and how just a few weeks later everything changed. Her theme is jungles, which of course has monkeys, which didn't help.
And during our celebration my very close friend was checking her phone ... her grandbaby was on the way. He was born during the shower. Which was great, wonderful news. He was term, but small. He was 18.5" and 5lb9oz. My heart hit the floor. He was shorter than Colton and only passed him by 2oz. And he was alive. And doing well. And Colton could have been too ... if he hadn't died before he even got a chance.
That night I went to bed and shortly thereafter woke to Brian shaking me and asking what was wrong. I woke up to a soaked pillow, sobbing uncontrollably. I was dreaming - flashing back, I guess - to the moment my doctor held Colton's lifeless body up and I fell into Brian's arms crying "My baby"... I didn't sleep well the rest of the night. All I could think about was Colton ... and losing him and how sad my heart was to have never known him outside of our short time together in my womb.
I am slowly pulling myself back up to being 'okay' again. Not crying as much. Last night we stopped by the cemetery. I tidied up Colton's headstone and decided he needs new flowers and a flag at his site. I felt peace in seeing him. But my heart was heavy. It appears the first baby addition has been laid to rest in his area. I cried for the family, whoever they are, and the pain we share.
I am constantly reminded, though, that healing is a process. It's not all done in a day or weeks or even months. Throughout the rest of my life new challenges, new anniversaries, new milestones will come and go and with them the pain will lull and rise. And I continue to work through it and ride it out. Knowing it's all part of the process and knowing that feeling - even feeling bad - is better than not feeling at all. The grieving will get easier, so they say. And some days it will be harder. Through it all, though, I have an angel watching me and reminding me I'm never alone and he's always right here with me.. .. ..
It started a few weeks ago when I got a random email from Amazon ... to notify me something from my baby registry had been purchased and was on its way!! What??!! I scoured the registry to figure out what they were talking about and there hadn't been activity for a long, long time. No reason for it to show up. Glitch in the system I suppose. Nevertheless, a tough email to receive.
Then last weekend I overdid it. Baby overload and complete meltdown followed. We threw a baby shower for my coworker and I offered to do games and purchase the presents. Which was fine. I was doing really well with it until it actually all happened. My mind kept floating back to my shower and my celebration and how just a few weeks later everything changed. Her theme is jungles, which of course has monkeys, which didn't help.
And during our celebration my very close friend was checking her phone ... her grandbaby was on the way. He was born during the shower. Which was great, wonderful news. He was term, but small. He was 18.5" and 5lb9oz. My heart hit the floor. He was shorter than Colton and only passed him by 2oz. And he was alive. And doing well. And Colton could have been too ... if he hadn't died before he even got a chance.
That night I went to bed and shortly thereafter woke to Brian shaking me and asking what was wrong. I woke up to a soaked pillow, sobbing uncontrollably. I was dreaming - flashing back, I guess - to the moment my doctor held Colton's lifeless body up and I fell into Brian's arms crying "My baby"... I didn't sleep well the rest of the night. All I could think about was Colton ... and losing him and how sad my heart was to have never known him outside of our short time together in my womb.
I am slowly pulling myself back up to being 'okay' again. Not crying as much. Last night we stopped by the cemetery. I tidied up Colton's headstone and decided he needs new flowers and a flag at his site. I felt peace in seeing him. But my heart was heavy. It appears the first baby addition has been laid to rest in his area. I cried for the family, whoever they are, and the pain we share.
I am constantly reminded, though, that healing is a process. It's not all done in a day or weeks or even months. Throughout the rest of my life new challenges, new anniversaries, new milestones will come and go and with them the pain will lull and rise. And I continue to work through it and ride it out. Knowing it's all part of the process and knowing that feeling - even feeling bad - is better than not feeling at all. The grieving will get easier, so they say. And some days it will be harder. Through it all, though, I have an angel watching me and reminding me I'm never alone and he's always right here with me.. .. ..
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