Distraction

I am so distracted today. I can't seem to focus on anything or make myself be productive! Hate when that happens.

My thoughts are daily occupied by many things. One of the prevailing thoughts today is how badly I wish to be pregnant again. Perhaps it was the news of a friend's new baby, or the time of year (we are almost to the point when we started trying last year), perhaps it's just the desire to get out of this "stuck" place I'm in. I feel so ready to get going, get on with things, try again. I can't explain it. Despite the fear and anxiety that is sure to overwhelm me when it does happen, I still want it so badly.

We are kind of moving in that direction, but no official plans until after our trip in July. This is smart, and good, and waiting on God's timing and for us both to be ready. But I am impatient.

Speaking of the trip..... only 2 weeks until Fai.th's Lo.dge, and then COSTA RICA!!

OK, time to get something done. Geesh.

It's the Little Things: Observations on Grief at 6 Months

The other day I was working on the layout of a book for preteen boys. The boy in the story had just asked a girl to a dance for the first time, and felt anxious about the upcoming date. Eventually the boy went to his dad for advice. The father gave his son tips on how to dance, suggested where to eat, and said Mom would help him pick out a shirt and tie to wear.

I alternately laughed at the boy's nervous thoughts and teared up at the admittedly cheesy story. At 6 months out, this is how my grief looks. My feelings alternate between wistful, sweet remembrance, and deep, aching sadness. I am caught off guard by the little things, new realizations of what I've missed and will be missing out on. I will never help them pick out an outfit for a dance. I will never watch admiringly as their father gives them advice on how to treat a girl. I will never snuggle both of them in my lap for a story. I could go on and on about the things I will not experience. But I try not to stay in that place too long.

At 6 months out I still think of, remember, and miss my boys every single day. Usually several times each day. If they aren't my first thought upon waking, I'll think of them as I shower or pass by the nursery. I think of them when I take a break at work, when I see a bright blue sky, when I feel joy.

The ache of missing Asher & Evan is less often an all-consuming, drowning feeling. More often it's a constant, deep ache. I imagine it's much like having chronic pain or a missing limb. That ache will never go away, but as time goes on I am learning how to live with it. The ache is becoming a part of me, rather than defining me.

I am starting to be able to enjoy babies again. It depends on the day.

I still feel a knot in the pit of my stomach when a friend announces her pregnancy.

We are thinking more seriously about trying again. The fact that I can even consider the idea and look ahead makes me realize how far we've come over the last 6 months.

Sometimes the grief surges up and overtakes me with a fresh wave of pain. These are the times when I go back to their blankets and photos, and just sit and cry. I cry because I'm so, so sorry all their belongings fit in one small box. And I would do anything to have them back. At 6 months, 6 years, or 6 decades, that will never change.

At 6 months out, my happy memories of my pregnancy and Asher & Evan have increased. I am able to smile more often than cry when I see their pictures. Slowly, very slowly, the rawness of grief is becoming secondary to the deep feelings of love.

Trust and Trying Again

I spent a great evening with one of my very best friends last night. What was meant to be dinner after work turned into a 4-hour-long gabfest about everything from faith to poverty to poop (seriously). It was so, so good for my heart.

My friend M and her husband are planning to start trying to get pregnant in the near future. I am so thrilled for them, and excited! I was also so happy that she gave me some advance warning. She had the discernment to know that I would be more prepared to react happily (and appropriately) if I knew it was coming.

Today is a slow-ish day for me at work (where did that come from??) and so I've found myself perusing new blogs, including babyloss blogs that I haven't seen before. And thinking. Thinking about "trying again." Trying to have more children. The idea is both exciting and terrifying with a capital T. The stories out there in blog world are not always cherry and happy and "of course the next time will be better." They are real, and hard, and blunt reminders that not everyone gets a happy ending. I find myself pulled between a desire to throw caution to the wind and Just Do It (insert Ni.ke logo here), and a desire to plan everything out, get my affairs in order, and go about things very methodically and slowly. There is no part of me that DOESN'T want to try again. My longing for children on this earth is too strong. Depiste the statistics and the possibility that I may have to endure the same horrible outcome, I can't silence this desire to be a mother to a living child.

I told J last weekend that I am ready to start talking about trying again. I am by no means ready to actually DO anything about it, but I am ready to start the process of, well, processing. I'm the type of person that has to hash everything out, so I imagine there will be many long conversations, many tough conversations. I need to be realistic here. I need to find a balance between realism and hope.

So, I told J I am ready, and I wanted him to know that, but that HE could let me know when he is ready as well. The ball is in his court. He didn't say anything that day. He hasn't said anything since. We have plenty of other issues going on right now, so I would not be surprised if it was quite some time before he is ready to talk. But it's out there.

And all the while, I know God is whispering in my ear, "Do you trust Me??" Because that's all it comes down to. That is all I can control in this whole situation. My life is not my own. All I can do is trust. I say "all," but it is a big "all." And it is so hard to do. But the more I reflect the more I realize that it is ALL I need to do, and all I can do, and it is good enough.

But I am still scared. Lord, help me to trust You more!

Mother's Day/Weekend Travels Update

So, like I said before, Mother's Day was not horrible. That's really all I could ask for... I don't think that's asking too much, right? :-)

We were in Denver for the weekend for my sister's college graduation, which carried its own set of stresses/possibilities for conflict. But the weekend went really, really well. I was so thankful for that. Everyone got along and had a good time. I can't believe my baby sister is done with college! Wow, I feel old.

On Mother's Day, J gave me a card that made me cry (he always writes such sweet things), and a beautiful photo album full of all the pictures we have of Asher & Evan. The album itself is seriously gorgeous: purple textured leather from London. He really spoils me! And the pictures, of course I can't get enough of them. Plus it's small enough to fit in my purse, so I never have to feel like I am leaving the boys at home. Such a sweet gift.

I have a belated Mother's Day gift coming, as well. J ordered (At my "suggestion") the Audrey necklace from Lisa Leonard's studio. It was created by Lisa and Angie Smith, whose daughter Audrey died shortly after birth. One of the things I love so much about this necklace is the story behind its creation. Angie talked about her daughter being real and having weight, and so the necklace itself is heavier than one would think, and (so I'm told) warms against your skin. I love that. Anything that further symbolizes my boys, their lives, and the realness of them. I can't say it as eloquently as Angie did, but I know how she feels. I can't wait for it to arrive.

Speaking of Angie Smith, I just got her new book "I Will Carry You" and I can't wait to read it!

:::

Work has been INSANE lately. In. SANE. I know I talk a lot about being busy but WOW, things are not in a good place right now. I'm glad we are busy, but I have a feeling I'll be working a lot of extra hours over the next few weeks. Eeek.

:::

J and I are done with our individual counseling sessions, so we'll meet as a couple again for our next appointment. J has some more anxiety things to deal with, and together we'll be discussing some more couple-y issues. Eventually, we'll talk about trying again, and how to get to a point where we feel ready for that. It's so weird, part of me feels SO ready (the part of me that longs to have a baby to hold), and part of me wants to throw up at the very thought of it.

One thing I struggle with is contemplating how "far" we need to be in the grief process before it's reasonable to consider trying again. The counselor mentioned that we don't have to feel like we're "done" with grieving to move forward and try again. Of course, we will never be done. But how close to resolution should we be? I know this is a very individual decision for everyone, but just some things I'm thinking about lately. I trust that when it's time, we will know.

When you're dreamin' with a broken heart, the waking up is the hardest part....

I had a dream last night that we had a baby. A little boy, just a few months old. I don't know what his name was, but it was a very long dream where we spent time holding and feeding him, trying to figure out his car seat, and basically taking care of him.

The dream itself was random—either J or I was in school, and we brought the baby to class. Other parts of it made absolutely no sense. But the pervasive feeling through the whole thing was JOY. SO much joy. I can't think of the last time I felt so happy. (Yes I can, it was when I found out I was pregnant with the boys.)

And then the dream was over, and I woke up. I tried to hold onto that dreamy happiness for a minute, before I slowly woke up and settled back into the reality of life. I felt guilty, because the baby in my dream was not Asher, and he was not Evan. I feel guilty for wanting any child besides them, because I want them more than I can possibly express in words. But maybe that's part of moving toward acceptance—accepting the fact that I cannot have them here, and recognizing that it's OK to long for their little brother or sister. Just becuase I want another child does not mean that I love Asher or Evan any less, or that I miss them any less.

A Letter to Asher

To my baby Asher,

My firstborn. Asher, you are so loved and so missed. I remember when I first laid eyes on you, it was love at first sight. I was filled with so much joy and pride, even in the midst of tragic circumstances. Despite the pain of the outcome, all I felt was love for you, more than I ever knew was possible for one person to feel.

Asher, you were a fighter, and I bet you would have been a typical oldest child in many ways. Maybe you would have been bossy, like I was. Maybe you would have had your daddy's strong, gentle personality. I bet you would have been creative. Maybe you would have played guitar, and followed in your dad's footsteps. I know that you would have been a great brother to Evan. I imagine that the two of you would have come up with all kinds of games and plans together.

You made quite the dramatic entrance into this world! You lived for almost an hour, and even kicked when you were born. The nurses were all surprised at your strength. One of my favorite memories of you is when I held you for the first time and you grabbed my finger. My baby, my love. You knew me, and I knew you.

Another memory we shared is when your daddy held your tiny little foot, and said that it looked like mine. You were so beautiful, with your tiny little hands and feet, and the beginnings of fine little eyebrows. You had your daddy's mouth. Asher, you were absolutely perfect.

Asher, I am so lucky to have had you. I am blessed to call you my son. I am grateful for the time we spent together. You will always be my oldest child, and I hold a special place in my heart for you alone.

I love you, I miss you,
Mommy

Wishful

Last night I dreamed that I had a baby. A real, live, healthy baby.

The dream took place at the hospital (the same one where I had the boys), mostly in my hospital room. I was holding my sweet little baby. He looked just like Asher, but I think it was another baby in the dream, because I remember being aware that I had lost them, and now I had this new little guy.

I don't remember many specifics, except that Jason was there, and my grandparents came to visit the baby. Oh, and I put him into a little fabric-covered box to sleep. And I nursed him (that was one of the things I most looked forward to doing with the twins).

My reaction to this dream is mixed. Some hope, some numbness. In the dream it felt SO GOOD to have a baby. I want a child to hold in my arms, so, so badly. But that's really all the dream was... my subconscious expressing that desire. Hmmm.

I hope someday the Lord blesses us with another child. And I hope we get to take him or her home and see them grow up.

Random Thoughts on a Thursday

Some updates...

• This has been a week of lots of "good talks" with J. Tuesday we spoke over lunch while I was having such a hard time. He said that he's been having dreams about the boys lately. In one, it was the end of the world, and some people were being saved from disaster, while others were not. He saw our boys in someone's arms and knew that they were "safe." I am desperately trying to find what little good can come from what has happened, and I think one thing is that we are more honest with each other. We talk more, share more. We are closer than we were before, and I hope that our marriage will be better for it.

• We are going to do Weight Watchers together! Crazy, huh? I've never really tried to lose weight before, and certainly not this much (15-18 pounds). But I think it will be so good for us. The thing that attracted me to WW is that it's more about learning how to eat, rather than dieting. I want to make lasting changes to my eating habits. We start on Sunday, and I'm really excited for it! I'm sure I'll have a lot to say about how things progress.

• Work has been crazy! Not a whole lot else to say, but I have been doing much more "managing" than I realized I would be upon my return to work. I really enjoy it, but it's very challenging!

• Speaking of work, I really hope J decides to look for another job soon. His job is so rough on him, and I want him to be happy, and doing something he enjoys. It's been 3 years, and the situation has not improved. The job market really stinks right now, so who knows if he'd find something anytime soon. But I'm hoping that he will at least feel compelled to begin a search in the near future.
  

• Also related to J, I am praying often for him to find success. In another of our chats recently he expressed that he hasn't felt BIG success in quite a while. That can be so wearing for anyone, probably more so for a man. He's had little things here and there, but he really needs (and deserves!) a big win in his life. Maybe our WW adventure can be a big win for him??

Hmmm, these updates ended up being much more related than I thought. Apparently I have had some specific things on my mind this week, even though I didn't realize it. This week has been alright... definitely lots of ups and downs, but they kind of average out to "OK." And I guess OK is pretty good for now.

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.