Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
— 2 Corinthians 4:16-18
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
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
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
Friday, May 21, 2010
Happy Friday and Feeling In-Between
This week, but especially today, has flown by at work. We are so, so busy. I haven't had much time to think about anything other than work. EXCEPT our upcoming garage sale! We're having a garage sale all day tomorrow, and I am nerdily excited about it. I just love getting rid of stuff, and actively trying not to be a pack rat. It won't be a huge sale, because there's only two of us, but it is amazing how much stuff one couple can accumulate in a short time. I will feel better to have less of it in our house. And it will be kinda fun to have an excuse to sit around outside all day.
I've been thinking about many things, but haven't been taking the time to write about them lately. Well, part of it is time, part of it is that I catch myself thinking, "Have I written about that already?" I feel like a broken record sometimes, in this grief journey. I mean, I can only describe my grief with so many metaphors before even I get tired of reading. At the same time, this blog exists for that very purpose, and so I don't explode IRL from holding in my feelings. I feel like I'm in an odd state of limbo with my emotions. Half the time I feel pretty OK and normal-ish, and half the time I find myself wondering how much longer I have to put up with this. I am trying to be gentle with myself, but it's hard. I am impatient. I am restless. I am uncomfortable in my current position in life. Half the time I'm being gentle and allowing myself to just be, and the other half I'm yelling at myself "Will you just snap out of it and LIVE already??"
There seems to be a delicate balance of learning to live in this state. Something for me to ponder this weekend, while I sit outside and hope people buy our stuff.
I've been thinking about many things, but haven't been taking the time to write about them lately. Well, part of it is time, part of it is that I catch myself thinking, "Have I written about that already?" I feel like a broken record sometimes, in this grief journey. I mean, I can only describe my grief with so many metaphors before even I get tired of reading. At the same time, this blog exists for that very purpose, and so I don't explode IRL from holding in my feelings. I feel like I'm in an odd state of limbo with my emotions. Half the time I feel pretty OK and normal-ish, and half the time I find myself wondering how much longer I have to put up with this. I am trying to be gentle with myself, but it's hard. I am impatient. I am restless. I am uncomfortable in my current position in life. Half the time I'm being gentle and allowing myself to just be, and the other half I'm yelling at myself "Will you just snap out of it and LIVE already??"
There seems to be a delicate balance of learning to live in this state. Something for me to ponder this weekend, while I sit outside and hope people buy our stuff.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Happy Mother's Day
A belated Happy Mother's Day to all mothers out there in blog world! We were out of town this weekend so I didn't get to post on Sunday, but please know that I thought of you all. I hope you had a good day, and were able to do something meaningful to honor your motherhood. Whether you have your children with you or they are in a better place, you are, and always will be, somebody's mommy. Know that I shared the difficulty of the day with you, as well as the pride of being a mother.
My Mother's Day was not as horrible as I feared it would be, and I was pleasantly surprised and touched to be recognized by some friends and family. More about my weekend later!
My Mother's Day was not as horrible as I feared it would be, and I was pleasantly surprised and touched to be recognized by some friends and family. More about my weekend later!
Friday, May 7, 2010
Don't be alarmed....
I'm trying out a new blog name. It is subject to change, as I've only started brainstorming. But my old name was feeling too stuffy, and not really what this blog is about.
So right now, it's called "A Mother's Journey". Other options:
• Mother of Two, Mothering None
• To Be a Mother
• Journey Through Grief
Nothing spectacular comes to mind at this point, but any suggestions are welcome! In the end it doesn't really matter what I call this place, I suppose.
Happy Friday!
So right now, it's called "A Mother's Journey". Other options:
• Mother of Two, Mothering None
• To Be a Mother
• Journey Through Grief
Nothing spectacular comes to mind at this point, but any suggestions are welcome! In the end it doesn't really matter what I call this place, I suppose.
Happy Friday!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Tension
I went for a walk this evening near my house. The weather threatened an impending storm, but I went anyway. The entire time I walked it got more and more windy, until leaves were blowing in my face and it seemed like the atmosphere was going to explode, there was so much tension. The trees bent over, the air swirled around me, everything seemed to be crying out, "Rain, already!"
I made it home without so much as a drop, and I was kind of disappointed. I, too, was anxious, waiting for the rain. I thought about how it would be kind of exciting to get caught in a storm. A little drama to jolt me from my apathy. Something to break the tension.
I realized that this feeling of "waiting for the storm" is much like how I live my life lately. I feel that I am in a holding pattern of grief. I anxiously wait for something, anything, to break through, to interrupt the slow, plodding, slogging through life that I'm doing right now. My entire body feels tense with the weight, the STRESS of grieving. I crave something to break up that tension. I wish for a lighting bolt that would magically jolt me forward, past this time of sadness.
A moment with friends, when I can laugh so hard I cry, and momentarily forget—or am distracted from—the HARDness of life right now.
For people to treat me "normally," and not feel like my children's deaths are the elephants in the room.
To be able to remember my boys and smile, thankful for the time we shared... and not always dissolve into tears soon after.
To feel like I can take a deep breath again, and move forward, and be FREE of the grief that weighs so heavily on my heart. Not to be free of my precious boys, of course, but to be free of the Constant. Aching. Dragging. Pain.
I think I do have moments now, fleeting ones, that are free of the tension of grief. I am starting to taste joy again, here and there. But I can't wait for this weight, this tension, to lift from my heart. That may never happen until heaven, because I will always miss my boys until I see them again. So I guess the next best thing is to learn to live with the tension of grief, and the knowledge that something is missing.
I made it home without so much as a drop, and I was kind of disappointed. I, too, was anxious, waiting for the rain. I thought about how it would be kind of exciting to get caught in a storm. A little drama to jolt me from my apathy. Something to break the tension.
I realized that this feeling of "waiting for the storm" is much like how I live my life lately. I feel that I am in a holding pattern of grief. I anxiously wait for something, anything, to break through, to interrupt the slow, plodding, slogging through life that I'm doing right now. My entire body feels tense with the weight, the STRESS of grieving. I crave something to break up that tension. I wish for a lighting bolt that would magically jolt me forward, past this time of sadness.
A moment with friends, when I can laugh so hard I cry, and momentarily forget—or am distracted from—the HARDness of life right now.
For people to treat me "normally," and not feel like my children's deaths are the elephants in the room.
To be able to remember my boys and smile, thankful for the time we shared... and not always dissolve into tears soon after.
To feel like I can take a deep breath again, and move forward, and be FREE of the grief that weighs so heavily on my heart. Not to be free of my precious boys, of course, but to be free of the Constant. Aching. Dragging. Pain.
I think I do have moments now, fleeting ones, that are free of the tension of grief. I am starting to taste joy again, here and there. But I can't wait for this weight, this tension, to lift from my heart. That may never happen until heaven, because I will always miss my boys until I see them again. So I guess the next best thing is to learn to live with the tension of grief, and the knowledge that something is missing.
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