I may be dating myself here, but does anyone remember those Goosebumps series books by RL Stine that were popular back in the 90s?
I very clearly remember a summer vacation spent chilling out reading books to count toward my summer reading list, and there was this Goosebumps book that had pick-your-own endings. You'd start reading the story, then it'd come to a point where you had to choose a detail about the story, and that directed you to the next pages to read, until ultimately you had made your own ending. I was intrigued, and I'm pretty sure I tried every combination of choices until I had read every ending (I may be OCD...)
Anyway, lately I can't get that memory out of my head... of me choosing and reading all these different possible endings to the story.
Our baby is due to arrive in two weeks or less, and I'm definitely in that stage where I'm trying to picture how this is all going to end (or start, depending on how you look at it). I'm friends with a number of other ladies due around the same time, and I watch as they discuss everything that they are anticipating once their babies arrive. They've bought outfits, have arranged to have friends stop by and get pictures taken. They worry about whether their husband will remember to include the right strap covers with the new car seat, or if he'll forget and leave the boring tan stock covers on.
And I feel like I'm stuck at the end of a page in that book, and I know there are two possible ways to continue, but for some reason I only see one of them no matter how hard I look. I can't find what page I'm supposed to go to in order to read what these ladies are talking about. That ending is just... missing for me.
But the OTHER ending, that one I can almost recite without having to turn the page. I know every detail, if that is our ending, if our baby doesn't make it. The details of what leads to that being the ending aren't clear, but I know that I'd want pictures, and hand and foot prints, and I'd call friends to ask them to grab a blank Teddy Bear Tin from home for me to use, and that later I'd find a special person to paint it for us. And I'd want a funeral so family could see this child and remember him. I know what music I'd want at the service. I can picture the years after.
This baby will be our first. So realistically I know that even if this alternate ending wasn't so easy for me to picture clearly, I'd really still not be able to predict what it will be like if baby does make it here safely. I guess it just feels disproportionate - I have trouble imagining the happy ending because there is an obvious reality to me on the other side which keeps my head out of the clouds.
So what do I do with this? What do I do when my mind starts looping through this book with the alternate ending that I don't seem to be able to find?
That answer is simple for me now...
I just let go.
Because there is absolutely no way for me to control what is going to happen. And there is absolutely no point in becoming frustrated with not being able to see the ending we really want. Because at the end of the day, there's a bigger picture that already exists that I'd be completely missing if I focused on the what-ifs.
My son is already here with me. Literally with me. I feel him rolling around and hiccuping and kicking me. He is alive and here RIGHT NOW. And every moment with him, whether it's in my belly or outside, is just as precious. So my way of handling these last few weeks, when the tendency is to picture the scarier ending, is to take the lesson that I shouldn't let anticipation replace appreciation for what I already have.
And just let everything else go.
<3
October 16, 2010
October 7, 2010
Two Years
More often even than I've been asked by others how long we will grieve for Aiden, I've wondered for myself what each year will look like.
So it is with that in mind that I relate especially to other families approaching certain milestones. In a few short months it will be two years for us, as it is currently for this special family. I am keeping them close in my prayers this week, and ask if you would that you might think of them too. Kristin I hope that the happy memories with Peyton overshadow your sadness, as she was such a special girl!
<3
Oh, and if you were wondering... my current view is that this grief changes, but it will never end and there is nothing "wrong" with that. In many ways it has made me who I am today, and to deny that would be to deny so much of the good that Aiden brought with him. So it's a part of me now, and will always be an important part of my story.
So it is with that in mind that I relate especially to other families approaching certain milestones. In a few short months it will be two years for us, as it is currently for this special family. I am keeping them close in my prayers this week, and ask if you would that you might think of them too. Kristin I hope that the happy memories with Peyton overshadow your sadness, as she was such a special girl!
<3
Oh, and if you were wondering... my current view is that this grief changes, but it will never end and there is nothing "wrong" with that. In many ways it has made me who I am today, and to deny that would be to deny so much of the good that Aiden brought with him. So it's a part of me now, and will always be an important part of my story.
September 10, 2010
Reflections of a Babyloss Auntie
I've been debating about whether to post this post for so long that maybe the title would more appropriately be "Confessions" of a Babyloss Auntie...
In the babyloss community, there is a special sensitivity to the fact that it can sometimes hurt when others have the chance to get what we or our families have lost. When someone gets the chance to have a little one of their own, alive and breathing. Even though we are so happy for them, truly happy, that happiness can make our hearts break just a little bit more as we watch what we never had. We tread lightly, hoping to let others get the joy and congratulations they deserve without falling to pieces.
So what, then, do we feel when WE are the ones waiting on our own little baby?
Yes, I'm pregnant. Very pregnant. 8 months. And until now I've been too afraid to say that here. I just felt like this is Aiden's place, this is a babyloss haven, and that this news would somehow harm that.
But after a lot of thought (and possibly some tears), I've come to realize that it is not only appropriate but even important for me to let everyone know this news, because no corner of my pregnancy experience this last many months has not been touched by Aiden. He is so much a part of this.
And I think the things that I have felt and the struggles I have carried are probably not just mine. Someone else, somewhere, is expecting a baby after a loved one has lost their own. Someone else struggles to respond when strangers ask, "Oh is this the first grandchild?" They too keep spreadsheets of home-doppler readings and kick counts and freak out anytime anything feels in any way different, and think that people who think that there is "only" a 2% risk of something bad happening are much too optimistic. Someone else covets ultrasound pictures like a psychotic hoarder, and is more than happy to pay out of pocket for 3d and 4d pictures and video of an unborn child because you just never know. Someone else spends 15 minutes preparing non-pregnancy topics of conversation before calling the father or mother of an angel, so that you don't feel like you are "rubbing it in their face." To that someone else - officially, you are not alone.
So finally, this is why I have been unusually quiet here. I was never gone. And Aiden has never left my mind. In fact, he's been present more than ever, in ways I'd never predicted. If it weren't for Aiden I have no doubt that my husband and I would still be busy working on our carefully laid out plans, step by step, for how our lives were to progress. Instead, thanks to my incredible nephew, we've had the courage to recognize what is more important and to let go of those things that will never mean much of anything in the end anyway.
I love you little guy, and miss you and pray for your parents every day. We can't wait to meet your new cousin, and hope that you'd pull whatever strings you can with the Big Cheese up there so that we might get to meet our son, even for a little while, before he is called back home.
<3
In the babyloss community, there is a special sensitivity to the fact that it can sometimes hurt when others have the chance to get what we or our families have lost. When someone gets the chance to have a little one of their own, alive and breathing. Even though we are so happy for them, truly happy, that happiness can make our hearts break just a little bit more as we watch what we never had. We tread lightly, hoping to let others get the joy and congratulations they deserve without falling to pieces.
So what, then, do we feel when WE are the ones waiting on our own little baby?
Yes, I'm pregnant. Very pregnant. 8 months. And until now I've been too afraid to say that here. I just felt like this is Aiden's place, this is a babyloss haven, and that this news would somehow harm that.
But after a lot of thought (and possibly some tears), I've come to realize that it is not only appropriate but even important for me to let everyone know this news, because no corner of my pregnancy experience this last many months has not been touched by Aiden. He is so much a part of this.
And I think the things that I have felt and the struggles I have carried are probably not just mine. Someone else, somewhere, is expecting a baby after a loved one has lost their own. Someone else struggles to respond when strangers ask, "Oh is this the first grandchild?" They too keep spreadsheets of home-doppler readings and kick counts and freak out anytime anything feels in any way different, and think that people who think that there is "only" a 2% risk of something bad happening are much too optimistic. Someone else covets ultrasound pictures like a psychotic hoarder, and is more than happy to pay out of pocket for 3d and 4d pictures and video of an unborn child because you just never know. Someone else spends 15 minutes preparing non-pregnancy topics of conversation before calling the father or mother of an angel, so that you don't feel like you are "rubbing it in their face." To that someone else - officially, you are not alone.
So finally, this is why I have been unusually quiet here. I was never gone. And Aiden has never left my mind. In fact, he's been present more than ever, in ways I'd never predicted. If it weren't for Aiden I have no doubt that my husband and I would still be busy working on our carefully laid out plans, step by step, for how our lives were to progress. Instead, thanks to my incredible nephew, we've had the courage to recognize what is more important and to let go of those things that will never mean much of anything in the end anyway.
I love you little guy, and miss you and pray for your parents every day. We can't wait to meet your new cousin, and hope that you'd pull whatever strings you can with the Big Cheese up there so that we might get to meet our son, even for a little while, before he is called back home.
<3
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