I have always played loosely with the concept of God. I remember going to church on occasion with Grandma; mormon church. Long sermon (that's what you call it, right?). Welcome song in seminary... always feeling out of place. Later on, some chick wants me to attend a mormon hayride. Don't know these people, don't relate.College years, I think I am a spiritual person (what does that mean?). I think that there is something beyond this life, but what the fuck do I know?
Lose my child who saved me from the abyss... what just god would allow it? I asked myself this question tonight. What "heavenly father" would have me become pregnant with this little soul, who by his very existence saved me from all the habits and addictions that I had become dependant upon, just to leave me bereft and without the healing grace of his presence?
Not fair, is it? All these assholes with children to raise. All these assholes and their good luck. I would give anything to have my son. To have something to convince me that it is worth the chore of waking up every day and trying to be the optimist for everyone I know. For now, I am tired, fuck all y'all. Guess you're gonna have to do it without me... I'm spent.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Monday, December 19, 2011
Silent Night...
I am sitting here in my favorite room, my living/dining room. I have been enjoying my Christmas decor and looking forward to sharing the holiday with my loved ones. I have been excited for weeks about putting up a tree and having a little holiday cheer. My first Christmas in my new home and the beginning of a few new traditions. My parents and Lacy will be at my house for Christmas morning and the unwrapping of gifts. I have to add that our upstairs bathroom will finally be functional, as we are in the last stages of our 6 month remodel project!! I remember many years in Laramie, decorating some funny tree that we found right off the road (because we were never prepared to hike into the wilderness, we found trees that were within our line of sight!) Our tree this year is beautiful and brightens my evenings and lifts my spirits.
I was running some errands this afternoon and thinking about the holiday season and how hectic life becomes with so many obligations, travel plans and expenses. Matt and I had been talking about how the holidays coincide with the darkest time of the year. It feels strange to watch the sun set behind the hills at 4:30 at night. But in the darkness, we have created a season to celebrate the things we are grateful for, the people that we love. Trying to find the perfect present, cooking an elaborate meal, taking time to acknowledge that being alive is in itself a miracle... they are all part of a need to create light out of dark.
My mother has always written little words of affection and inspiration in our greeting cards throughout the years. Christmas, birthdays, just because, my sister and I always smile at her elegant, optimistic lines and I have many of those cards saved in shoe box in my closet. This year, she searched online for quotes that matched the individual situations and life changes that Lace and I were going through. I love the one she found for me...
Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us.
It is true that I am not spending this holiday season (or, the past 10 months) as I had hoped and dreamed to. It is also true that everyday is an excruciating reminder that Silas is not here with us. My heart aches to think of taking family pictures for greeting cards (I didn't even muster the energy this year), watching my baby boy playing with wrapping paper and new toys on Christmas morning, delighting in his fascination with the lights and ornaments on the tree. What would it have been like to be responsible for those pictures, those memories?
I will know the answer to those questions some day. And I will cherish it all the more for Silas and the knowledge of all the holidays and special occasions that I will miss out on with him, my first child, my beautiful son. The story of the birth of Christ is one of hope. It is fitting that the week of our Christmas celebrations coincides with the winter solstice. From this point on, there will only be more light.
I was running some errands this afternoon and thinking about the holiday season and how hectic life becomes with so many obligations, travel plans and expenses. Matt and I had been talking about how the holidays coincide with the darkest time of the year. It feels strange to watch the sun set behind the hills at 4:30 at night. But in the darkness, we have created a season to celebrate the things we are grateful for, the people that we love. Trying to find the perfect present, cooking an elaborate meal, taking time to acknowledge that being alive is in itself a miracle... they are all part of a need to create light out of dark.
My mother has always written little words of affection and inspiration in our greeting cards throughout the years. Christmas, birthdays, just because, my sister and I always smile at her elegant, optimistic lines and I have many of those cards saved in shoe box in my closet. This year, she searched online for quotes that matched the individual situations and life changes that Lace and I were going through. I love the one she found for me...
Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us.
It is true that I am not spending this holiday season (or, the past 10 months) as I had hoped and dreamed to. It is also true that everyday is an excruciating reminder that Silas is not here with us. My heart aches to think of taking family pictures for greeting cards (I didn't even muster the energy this year), watching my baby boy playing with wrapping paper and new toys on Christmas morning, delighting in his fascination with the lights and ornaments on the tree. What would it have been like to be responsible for those pictures, those memories?
I will know the answer to those questions some day. And I will cherish it all the more for Silas and the knowledge of all the holidays and special occasions that I will miss out on with him, my first child, my beautiful son. The story of the birth of Christ is one of hope. It is fitting that the week of our Christmas celebrations coincides with the winter solstice. From this point on, there will only be more light.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Counselor
People keep telling me that I am strong. I know those words to be true but every time I hear them I think if all the weak moments that no one sees. It is sometimes necessary to put on a brave face and pretend that your only purpose is to be right here, right now. I have learned that doing just that is what allows me to face the day. Honestly, it seems that usually when I feel the need to "blog" (as the kids say) I am upset with something about my life.
So let this be my "brave face" for the day... I woke up ready to go and hungry.I had good food to eat and Dr. Pepper to drink at work. I attenpted to be kind to people and was rewarded with kindness in turn. I accomplished a task in my household and am looking forward to curling up in bed with my husband and my cat-children. What more can a person ask?
I think that if I train myself to recognize the small gifts that each day brings, perhaps one day, I will truly believe what I say aloud. When I write, I am affirming something that my brain comprehends but that my heart does not. People are taken aback by my openess sometimes, which makes me appreciate the people I interact with on a daily basis all the more. Thankfully, I've been allowed to grieve in my own way and receive comfort from expressing my experience with people who care about me.
Shit... maybe I should be a counselor, I could put some of this "wisdom" to work!
So let this be my "brave face" for the day... I woke up ready to go and hungry.I had good food to eat and Dr. Pepper to drink at work. I attenpted to be kind to people and was rewarded with kindness in turn. I accomplished a task in my household and am looking forward to curling up in bed with my husband and my cat-children. What more can a person ask?
I think that if I train myself to recognize the small gifts that each day brings, perhaps one day, I will truly believe what I say aloud. When I write, I am affirming something that my brain comprehends but that my heart does not. People are taken aback by my openess sometimes, which makes me appreciate the people I interact with on a daily basis all the more. Thankfully, I've been allowed to grieve in my own way and receive comfort from expressing my experience with people who care about me.
Shit... maybe I should be a counselor, I could put some of this "wisdom" to work!
Friday, October 14, 2011
Little Feet...
Just watched Silas' sonogram for the first time since I was pregnant. It brought back so many feelings. I was 22 weeks preggo and we found out that we were having a boy (which I knew all along). He was perfect according to the images, they measured his head, heart rate, the size of his femur, etc... My mom and Matthew were there for the happy event, we watched in wonder as the doctor gave us a glimpse of the amazing life within.
The part that got me though ( I had memorized the images of my son, his feet, his ears, the little scrotum that told us his gender), was the end of the vidoe, it showed the doctor giving his report on the sonogram. Every category was "normal", every indication was healthy. He was big, major organs intact, healthy pacenta. I remember hearing those words and finally allowing myself to accept his life and my role in it.
I will never know what happened to my son. I've read the charts, reennacted his birth. I am okay with the decision I made to skip the autopsy, I didn't want to put my baby through more trauma. It was hard enough to witness the efforts to save his life. Wires, IV's, the trauma of his birth. It was too much for anyone and I was ill prepared based on my pregnancy, to accept what had occured. It is just a fact of my life and I cannot do anything but move on from it and remember the lesson that life presents to us all. When it seems that all is hopeless, we have tomorrow to convince us to go on.
October 14, 2010 was the first time I felt my child move. Silas is gone but that moment is a treasured memory in my life. Every moment that I spent with him warms my heart and reminds me that each of us leaves a mark in this world, no matter how brief our time may be. I never got to tell my son what he did for me and those I love, but I do believe that he knew it all along.
The part that got me though ( I had memorized the images of my son, his feet, his ears, the little scrotum that told us his gender), was the end of the vidoe, it showed the doctor giving his report on the sonogram. Every category was "normal", every indication was healthy. He was big, major organs intact, healthy pacenta. I remember hearing those words and finally allowing myself to accept his life and my role in it.
I will never know what happened to my son. I've read the charts, reennacted his birth. I am okay with the decision I made to skip the autopsy, I didn't want to put my baby through more trauma. It was hard enough to witness the efforts to save his life. Wires, IV's, the trauma of his birth. It was too much for anyone and I was ill prepared based on my pregnancy, to accept what had occured. It is just a fact of my life and I cannot do anything but move on from it and remember the lesson that life presents to us all. When it seems that all is hopeless, we have tomorrow to convince us to go on.
October 14, 2010 was the first time I felt my child move. Silas is gone but that moment is a treasured memory in my life. Every moment that I spent with him warms my heart and reminds me that each of us leaves a mark in this world, no matter how brief our time may be. I never got to tell my son what he did for me and those I love, but I do believe that he knew it all along.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Anniversaries...
Today was awesome. My dad came down to help us install the first (and most important) 100 foot of fence in the back yard. Matt and I have spent spare time the last few weeks cutting the old metal posts and prepping the yard for a new, wood fence. We ordered supplies, rented equipment and planned the new line and this morning my parents arrived for the big project. It went up quick and mother nature even blessed us with a cool, overcast morning for our efforts. The new fence cuts our visual of the junkyard next door and will eventually wrap around our entire yard.
I'm glad that it has been such a productive day because in the back of my mind I have been dreading this day all week. Silas would have been 6 months old today. Perspective is a crazy thing sometimes. I have been thinking all week about what he would look like now, what milestones his dad and I would have witnessed and celebrated. He'd be chubby-faced, I would have spent hours adoring his smile, his little body, his personality. I would be comfortable in my role as mommy, figuring out this whole parenting thing.
Add to that the fact that it is Matthew and my 2nd anniversary tomorrow, but it feels like 9 years to me (in a good way, I promise). 2 years ago, I stood on my grandparent's lawn and committed myself to a lifetime with my husband, through good times and bad. It seems like we have had our share of both the last couple of years. We don't always get along or agree but we have something that nothing in this world can take from us and I am grateful every day. Happy Anniversary to my husband and the father of my child, I look forward to our life together and to all the good times ahead.
I'm glad that it has been such a productive day because in the back of my mind I have been dreading this day all week. Silas would have been 6 months old today. Perspective is a crazy thing sometimes. I have been thinking all week about what he would look like now, what milestones his dad and I would have witnessed and celebrated. He'd be chubby-faced, I would have spent hours adoring his smile, his little body, his personality. I would be comfortable in my role as mommy, figuring out this whole parenting thing.
Add to that the fact that it is Matthew and my 2nd anniversary tomorrow, but it feels like 9 years to me (in a good way, I promise). 2 years ago, I stood on my grandparent's lawn and committed myself to a lifetime with my husband, through good times and bad. It seems like we have had our share of both the last couple of years. We don't always get along or agree but we have something that nothing in this world can take from us and I am grateful every day. Happy Anniversary to my husband and the father of my child, I look forward to our life together and to all the good times ahead.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
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