Hope, In Honor Of

So I missed the party. I wish I hadn't, but in all honesty, it was a good thing.

The day before the party I was on the beach watching L build sandcastles, chase seagulls and hunt for special shells. It was a beautiful clear day with a brilliantly blue sky. Being January, the beach was fairly empty and so it was somewhat quiet, but quiet against a background of waves crashing on the shore, gulls calling out to one another and my daughter laughing. So peaceful, so inspiring, so good for the soul.

The day of the party I was half naked on a bed waiting for my OB who was on call down in labor and delivery to come up and get our party started. Our party was probably a lot less fun than Justine's and involved things like catheters and ultrasound wands and iodine. Also, no brownies were provided.

But what I came away with from those two days was something that made me think of Justine and a small gift she sent my way awhile back. What I came away with was hope.

Hope that no matter what our future, whether it be more children or not, I am going to be okay. I will come through this, I will come through that, I will come through whatever it is that life throws my way. I have to, really, as there is no other choice but to curl up in the corner and shrivel away, and as much as I have desired to do just that many times, I know that I won't.

And I don't mean that life will go on and eventually I'll move on to.

I mean that life can still be good. It is still good. Right now, right here, it is good, even with all the bad, there is still the good. And there always will be.

****

I picked out two shells for Micah from my last beach trip. Well, not shells, really, but beautiful little pieces of what used to be shells, both dark blue with gray stripes, both smooth to the touch, both easy to carry around in my pocket. Back home, on the altar where I keep the slips of paper with names I will never forget, one of which says Justine's babies, I put those little shells right next to the sweet silver piece of hope Justine sent to me.

And today I light a candle for Justine, a candle for her little lost ones, a candle for the little one by her side, a candle for the one who will be coming home soon. My prayers will be for them today as Justine gets closer and closer to a new and tiring and amazing chapter in her life.

Justine, my hopes for you are full of good and wonderful things. My prayers are full of the same. My gift to you is my hope, in honor of you and the support you give to so many and that sweet little babe who will soon be in your arms. Come and draw upon this hope I have for you if you find yours waning. I am here for you, hoping for you, wishing for you, praying for you. All my wishes for the very best as you go down this road - I have abundant hope that all will be well.

Quick Note

I've been a bad bloggy friend as of late, but we've been out of town twice in the past week and a half and I've just fallen behind on a bunch of stuff. I'm going to try to get caught up soon, but there are so many posts to read and comments to leave, so we'll see how it goes. :)

"That heartache will be a train we ride to the day we die."

A friend sent this article to me this morning; if you've got time you ought to read it. It talks about three Florida basketball coaches and the stillbirths they each suffered through and how those experiences brought them together and changed their lives.

From one of the coaches - "We learn how to live again and get up and dress ourselves again and be good parents to the kids who are still living. But in the end, a part of us died with our kids. That heartache will be a train we ride to the day we die.”

Reflections

Ah, so the new year has come. I am so pleased. While many of you wrote about feeling sad for leaving your baby's year, I have been so looking forward to a fresh start. Not meaning I am looking forward to leaving Micah's year behind, and not that there is really anything different between December 31st and January 1st - it's just the passing of the day like any other - it still feels as if things could change and maybe change in a positive way.

I've not had much time for reflection over the past two weeks as they were extremely busy and involved two out of town trips, Best Friend coming in from Texas, helping my grandmother deal with lots of things she's unable to handle on her own, deep cleaning the garage to enable us to bring in the new washing machine after the old washer decided our garage would be better suited as a lake, hubby and L fighting (and still fighting) nasty colds (which keep us all up at night), Christmas, New Year's, mother in law's birthday, etc. and even some more etc. after that.

So, really, these reflections are not New Year's reflections, they are things I've been thinking about for months but have finally decided to write down and get serious about. Micah's death has changed me in many ways, some good and some not so good. I'm more comfortable with other people's losses and feel that I provide better support and have more compassion than I used to. I am crystal clear that nothing in life is guaranteed and the time to make the best of things is now as you never know if you'll get a tomorrow or even a this afternoon. My faith, while not at it's strongest point by any means, has been renewed as I have somehow been able to hold onto it through everything that has happened in the last seven months.

Although there are those positives, and others, that have stemmed from my son's death there have also been some changes that I'm not totally proud of. My fuse is short and my temper tends to flare before I even realize that I'm angry. I have become rather self-centered in many ways, always wanting people to consider me, my feelings, my needs, my wants, my thoughts and emotions that I won't share but yet fully expect others to respond to in such a way that is perfect and exactly what I am wanting/needing at that particular moment - regardless of whether ten minutes prior I would have wanted the same response. I curse now. I drink too much wine and coffee and eat crap foods and don't exercise anymore. If it were up to me and I wasn't needing to provide a lovely childhood for my daughter I don't know that I would really leave the house anymore.

I'm not saying these negative things aren't justified - I think they are. And I'm not judging any of you that might have a potty mouth or enjoy il vino or have a hot tamale temper. This is solely about me and who I was before Micah and who I am here at seven months down the road from Micah and who I'd like to be say, a year down the road, two years down the road, twenty years down the road from Micah. And I would not like to be the wino woman who curses like a sailor and screams at you because you don't remember that forty years ago my baby died.

What a legacy that would be for my beautiful boy.

to be continued...