Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Capture Your Grief 2014: Day 7

There is no one place that feels sacred for me. But watching him grow,
that feels sacred. There are more moments when I pause and simply watch, capturing the feeling that wells within me to see him here - healthy and whole. Watching the way he follows the girls, mimicking them. Listening to his voice. Treasuring his smile. I run my hands over his curls and trace his face and I know that he is a miracle. That is my
Sacred Place.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

CaptureYourGrief: 2014 Day 2


At first, the shell I built around my pain was rather fragile. Sometimes, without warning, it was pierced rudely - leaving me without defense against a consuming anguish. People would say something so asinine or downright tacky and my heart would break all over again. My pain would pour from me as I tried to make them understand that these were my babies. I was bewildered by their lack of understanding and crippled by my hurt. It was all I could do to get from one day to the next.

Then anger purged my pain. Anger at their ignorance, insensitivity, and uncaring or dismissive words. Anger at God. My heart was full of anger as I tried to reconcile the life I expected with the life I was living. The truths my heart knew fought with the lies the world was spinning. Anger was a fire deep inside my heart that burned me up, burned up my Grace for others.

After the anger left, burned out from raging too hot and too fast, there was a strange empty feeling. Heavy, like the air before a storm, but very still.

Gradually, I filled that space. I found what some call the new normal. Where up is down and right is left and everyone just accepts it and moves on. Where babies die and mommas hurt and families are changed and different...but it's just your life.

And I can't really pinpoint when all that hurt and anger and sadness changed direction. I can't really say when some of the cracks that were there one year ago during Capture Your Grief mended a little. I can't pinpoint a moment in my fight with God where peace was restored and faith reaffirmed.

My heart, right now, knows boundless Joy in the children that are with me and an incredible Gratefulness for them. But underneath there is a Heavy longing for those children that are in God's Hands, a burden no one sees. I guess, strangely enough, that my heart is healing. One day and prayer at a time. 


Sunday, January 19, 2014

In Which Mommy Gives Dancer TMI

I walked into my room, expecting to see Dancer and Diva laying my clean laundry out on the bed for me to fold and put away. What I did not expect to see was Dancer with her arm through the front hole of her daddy's clean boxers all the way up to her elbow - complete with a very perplexed look on her face.

I stood there dumbstruck.

Mommy, why do all of Daddy's boxers have holes in them? she asked me.

At this point, having collected myself sufficiently, I took a deep breath and thought...You've totally got this, girl. Just be matter of fact about it....and brief.

Well, I said, boys have penises...just like your brother...and they stand up to pee. The hole is so they can pull it out and use the bathroom. Then they just....tuck it back in.

Dancer's eyes grew increasingly rounded during this explanation and as I wound down she looked at me - slightly horrified - and said,

No, Mom. I meant why do all of Daddy's boxers GET holes in them. 

At that point I decided discretion was the better part of valor and walked away. 


Thursday, January 9, 2014

Too Long Gone

I can always tell when I haven't been either reading or writing. It's like my head gets so full of half formed thoughts and frustration and tired that I can't accomplish anything. Because reading is where I fill myself up - with ideas and joy and knowledge. I cry and laugh at books the way some people do at movies. It's my relaxation and catharsis all in one. And writing...well, writing is my way of ordering what's been going on in my life and in my head and heart.

Neither has been happening. Reading? Who has time to read? The days start early and end late. Three kids - it's less than some people and more than others - but overall, kids are just hard. There are other words you can throw in there: blessings, joy, happy, special, maternal, rainbows, unicorns, gum drop raindrops. But really, raising little people is hard.

And writing? The last few weeks might have been depressing for my more faithful followers.

Because the holidays were bittersweet. Great! And Blessed! But bittersweet. Watching Little Bit look around somewhat bewildered at all the lights and paper and TOYS caused a pang. Somewhere in the vicinity of my heart. I watched him and thought, they should be here. The gap that is always there between Diva and Little Bit seemed larger and emptier somehow with the Christmas tree in the corner.

Then I watched him take his first steps. He let go of his daddy and took one....two....plop! right into my lap. After watching him travel back and forth, wearing out his little legs and resembling nothing so much as a tiny drunk, I could - just for a minute - see them there with us. They should be here.

When I heard of someone's baby dying over New Year's, I wept for them. When I heard another family lost their child, I wished I had some comfort to offer. I listened to a friend rage against her child's illness.

It all piles up. Until it feels like my heart is in my throat. Until my eyes ache with the tears I don't have time to cry.

Joy and Sorrow can and do coexist quite peacefully. That, at least, is a lesson I've learned. Admitting to the Sorrow doesn't negate my joy. It just means that life, real life, is full of both.