Heart Ramblings

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Calling Out

I am screaming. I am calling out. Can you hear me? I'm pouring out my soul. Every last ounce of my being is laid out before you. Can you see it? And yet, I am pulling away. Drawing back into myself...into a place where life is as it should be.

What is this place? Where life is as it should be? Nothing is familiar here. There is a darkness that looms. It is so thick that I can't see. There is no visible light. No path to find. Others have been in this place, but their footsteps go in all different directions.

The darkness is getting thicker. I am getting down on my hands and knees. I'm crawling aimlessly, searching for something that is remotely familiar, but there is nothing. There is pain coming from all around, but there is no one thing that I can say is causing it.

I don't want anyone in this place with me. It's an awful place. A place no one should ever have to enter.

I call out again. I am screaming. Crying. I am begging for you to hear me.

And all at once I realize...you can't hear even the slightest sound of my cries...because they are all within my mind. I keep retreating back into my mind because I don't want you to feel what I feel. I don't feel as though I deserve to be loved. Or to be held.

It's these moments...these moments of quiet distance...when I seem resistant to being close...that I need you to pull me close, no matter how much I struggle, put your hand through my hair and whisper that you love me.

Just Another Day

So back at the end of May, I ended up at the cemetery to see my baby. As you can imagine, I sat and sobbed. There aren't a whole lot of times where I end up at the cemetery and remain dry eyed, even now. The day I was there, happened to be beautiful and sunny. My 7yo and I had taken a pinwheel over for Cora prior to that day. The way the sun was shining and coming through the trees, made me realize that we had made the perfect choice on where she should be.

I snapped this picture:

Later that day, my friend noticed a very interesting thing. If you look closely at the above picture, you can see it even without what she did for me. But, she did this:

If you look towards the right arrow, you can see the profile of my sweet Cora. I find comfort knowing that she's still around me, but it surely doesn't make it any easier.

Today, I'm missing my Cora. I feel off. The big girls start school tomorrow. And I know...it is much needed for all of us. We have had a good summer. There were things that I had wanted to do with the girls, but due to circumstances, just weren't able to make them happen. I'm disappointed, as are the girls. I am hoping though, that once I'm back to work, we will start doing some 'day trips' on the weekends and do things we've never done before.

And then there's that. I have felt ready to get back to work. Until yesterday. The odd thing is that the kids don't start until next week and this week we're getting the classroom ready and doing last minute things *like getting lesson plans done, etc.*

Of course, there is a host of other personal stuff that is going on that is also playing a part in my panic. I am rocking in my rocking chair, but it sure isn't going anywhere. I mean, the worry that I have isn't contributing to life and is just making things increasingly difficult.

So, as I step back into the 'real' world...pray *or send up positive thoughts* that I am able to find enough distraction to make the days go by quickly and that I'm not presented with lots of apologies as the new year begins.

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Noah and Storms

We headed to church on Sunday and I am so thankful that we did. I've heard a lot of sermons in the last several months, but the one on Sunday, really hit home.

It's a series...on storms. Storms in our lives. We may all be living in our own personal storm, but my personal storm is losing my sweet Cora. The pastor talked about Noah and his ark. She asked us if we had really thought about Noah sitting on the ark. I mean, we know that it rained for 40 days and 40 nights. Then Noah sat on the boat for another 150 days.

So let's think about this for a bit...even if you're not religious. Forty days. Forty nights. Nothing but rain. You're sitting on this enormous boat with your family...and...2 of every creature/beast on the earth. If you are like me, being ~~cooped~~ cozied up with my family for 40...yes FORTY days and nights in a huge boat...things could get mighty dicey. Then tack on the fact that your boat is also loaded up with animals. AND you get to just sit there on the water, in the boat, with your family...and the animals for another 150 days?? Yeah wow! And Noah? He was wondering where God was in it all.

I'm pretty sure that I'm a bit like Noah right now. Only, I'm not on a boat, it hasn't been raining for 40 days/nights, and I'm not stuck with a boatload *literally* of animals and my family.

I do know though, that the rain and waves still come. In the off times, I'm sitting on the boat with no waves and in that 150 day period, wondering where God is in it all.

I've talked about that dreaded 'what-if' monster before. And apparently, as a grieving parent, it's quite normal. I've been swimming in what-ifs quite a bit lately and beating myself up over things that were really out of my control. But as a mom, I want to be able to control everything. I want to be able to do everything I can for my children...make sure they are healthy, eat healthy, and are taken care of. When you lose a child, you feel like you have failed them. That somehow, you weren't able to do exactly what it is you, as a mom, are supposed to do.

And so I question. I blame myself for not being able to be in two places at once. And wonder...where is God in all of it?

Today is Cora's 3 month angelversary and it stings. I talked to my doctor today and as I cried, she told me that everything that I am experiencing, questioning, and fighting is all normal. She also told me that my 'job' of grieving is to be done in community. She compared our 'mourning' here in America to that of other countries where they wail. She believes that we tend to have it a bit backwards. I also think that I tend to hold things back because, well...I feel guilty burdening people with my grief. One of the biggest things she said to do? She said to keep telling stories. Even if I have told the story 29 times...tell it 29 more times.

I miss my Cora...my wash belly *my friend from Jamaica says that it means that the last baby you had in your belly*. And she certainly has held a special place in my heart.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Not My Life

I keep wandering around in my skin, wondering if this is truly my life. I am both loved beyond measure...far more than I have ever been loved before...and hated far more than I have ever been hated before. I'm not sure if this is how it was all supposed to turn out, but I know that God has his hand in every single thing. And, although I feel as if I lose sight of him from time to time, I know he's lingering ever closer to my side.

I am infinitely blessed by friends *and family -- which are almost one in the same* who listen. By friends who are spontaneous. By friends who know just what I need *and when I need it.* By friends who stand by while I shed yet more tears...tears that seemingly come from nowhere.

Friends from all walks of life.

I found this while searching pinterest for child loss quotes:

I'd say it about sums up life right now. I know that there isn't another soul who would want to trade shoes with me...or even walk in them for a time. And honestly, I can't say as I blame them. I wouldn't want to walk in my shoes either. And yet...I do. Daily. Weekly. And in some aspects of my life, there are shoes I've been walking in for far longer than I should have. Years. This is just a new pair of shoes added on top of the other pair. A pair on top of a pair if you will.

In all though, my friends have offered a comfortable place to sit along the way...a place to stop, sit and rest...a respite from this journey that I'm on. And I welcome the rest. You all are showing me a little Jesus here on earth. Matthew 11:28 says, "Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest."

That I am. That. I. Am.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Denial to Anger

I am angry today. I am angry because I don't have my baby any more. She should be here. I don't want her with Jesus. She should be here with me! Why? Why can't I have her? Did I deserve this? Why her? Doesn't God have enough children in heaven already?

I know she couldn't be mine forever, but couldn't I have had her for quite a bit longer? Maybe graduate from high school or something??

I should be at peace knowing that she is with Jesus and I whispered for her to go to Him, but my selfish self want her back all to myself...to snuggle with, to love on...to smell her clean hair and skin after taking a shower or a bath.

I have been so camped out in denial for the past two months, that the waves of reality have come and gone quickly. But, for the past week, anger pulled in and set up camp. Denial is still lingering in smaller bits, giving me rest from the reality.