Can I get a Do-over?

This weekend did not go quite as planned.

We had planned to have a garage sale on Saturday, participating in the all-city garage sale day. We'd been (OK, I'd been) counting on this day for several months. We had signs, money to make change, all our wares neatly arranged on borrowed folding tables, everything priced to sell.

We started out at 8 am. While J went to get us breakfast at Caribou (he read my mind!) I cheerily made our first (and what would become our only) sale of $1.

At about 10:30, the sky got seriously ominous looking. "This wasn't in the forecast!" I insisted. Indeed, the current weather still said nothing about rain. We nudged our tables closer to the garage and prepared for a mad dash. And then it started raining, and HAILING. We quickly carried everything back inside, shut the garage door, and went inside. It rained for several more hours, enough to effectively cancel our garage sale.

We decided to try again next weekend. We will have another sale. No big deal. Seriously, I mean it's disappointing, but it's just a garage sale, right? And yet as I told myself these things, I began to cry. Fully aware at the ridiculousness of crying about a failed garage sale, of all things. But at the same time I knew that it wasn't really about the garage sale.

Disappointment has been a prevailing emotion since we lost the boys. To put it bluntly, I am used to things working out or me. I don't say that like I'm so awesome, but I am not used to failure. I am not used to plans failing so catastrophically. Losing the boys was by far the biggest disappointment of my life. And ever since that, any time plans fall through it hits me extra hard. It takes me right back to the largest failure of my entire life: failing to "follow through" and complete my pregnancy, ending with two healthy little boys. Now, every little disappointment only reminds me of that.

Something else that contributed to my disproportionate response is that is takes so darn much energy to get excited about anything lately. I was exhausted by the task, by trying to psych myself up for it, and by the let-down of all that energy going to waste.

:::

Also this weekend, some friends of our gave birth to healthy, BIG (7 lbs each at 35 weeks!!) twin girls. I am happy for them. But I cannot talk about it, or say more than that. I am really, truly happy for them, I am. But it just hurts way too much to think about it. I'm taking the week off from Facebook, so I can miss the congratulating, well-wishing, and photos. I really feel like a big jerk. And yet so helpless to feel any other way. Ugh.

:::

So, the weekend was hard. There were other things, but I've whined enough to give you an idea.

On the plus side, we heard a great sermon on Sunday about suffering, and the Good News amidst it all. Our church has gone through a LOT of stuff over the last couple of years. Lots of births, deaths, medical diagnoses, cancer, job loss, etc, etc, etc. In fact, our pastor had a list (without names, of course) of some events we've gone through as a body, and it was pretty amazing to see. The whole point was that life is hard, but we have hope. I am trying to hang onto that truth this week.


In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
—John 16:33

Signs of Healing

I attended church alone this morning for the first time in several months. J often has worship stuff on Sunday mornings, and until today I found myself unable to sit in church without him. It was just too much—the music, the babies, the people. I would spend the entire service simply trying not to cry. It wasn't even worth going, because I didn't hear a word of the sermon. I was too absorbed in my own pain.

This reaction has always seemed odd, because the church has been one of our biggest sources of support through all of this. Everyone there wants only to love us. And yet I couldn't stand being there without the buffer and protection of J by my side.

We've been able to go together several times over the last month, which seems to have helped. This morning, I got up and got to church myself, enjoyed worship, was able to listen to the sermon. No tears! I even chatted with a couple people after service, instead of making a beeline for door. It seems small, but this is a significant thing for me! I feel good knowing that I am doing better than I was a couple months ago. It is encouraging, too, since the last 3 weeks have felt very dark and difficult. Little by little, I am healing.

Dreams & Church

I had a dream about the babies last night. It's the first time that real life has infiltrated my sleep.

In my dream it was Sunday morning, and J was getting ready to leave for church (as he did IRL). I was still in bed, but then I heard a baby cry, and realized that J had a baby to care for, too. And I thought, I should get up and help him, because we still have one of our babies! But as I got up to find the baby, the cries faded away, and I slowly realized that no, we lost both of them. We don't have any babies.

When I woke up I felt so sad, I almost considered skipping church again. But I made myself go. I can't hide out forever, although I want to. Attending service by myself is so difficult. J isn't far away, and joins me once he's done with music. But it's all I can do not to burst into tears during the first half of service. Perhaps it's because on those mornings I am alone with my thoughts. Thoughts that automatically, unconsciously, are always about my boys. And then a song will hit me especially hard, or a pregnant woman will sit too close, and BAM! I am standing there crying during worship. I cry every time I go to church, during and/or after. I wish I could just attend service like a normal person, and smile and be happy.