If we only knew

Our baby boy, due November 30

I haven't really posted much about my pregnancy yet. Part of that has been because my life seems to be back-to-back craziness lately and I haven't found the time. The other part is that when I really sit down and think about what this pregnancy means in the realm of this community and the past that somehow effects every part of my future...it gives me anxiety. 

I have worked really hard to not think about my fears of losing Steve while pregnant. I've tried to be deliberate about keeping my mind on positive things. When I first found out, I couldn't sleep for a few days. It has subsided for the most part, but lately, I've found that the anxiety is creeping in again.

Each week I get closer to 26 weeks (which is the day that Jeremy died), I find myself gripping my chest, praying that God would spare me the pain of deja vu. I also remember a little more clearly details about my last few weeks of pregnancy with Jeremy alive the further I get along. Today, I've been thinking a lot about our last 4th of July together - watching the fireworks with his hand on my belly and smiling at the awestruck expressions of our children. Tonight, I can't help but think of the irony to be back in that place....but in a completely different way.

What it made me realize is that there's a reason we don't know our future ahead of time. If someone showed me the outline of life 5 years ago....I would have run screaming in the other direction. Yet here I stand, embracing experiences that hurt me in the past, learning to trust again, allowing wounds to re-open and heal properly. It's bittersweet, and yet I'm learning so much about myself as I go.

If I only knew....I probably wouldn't be where I am today.

I guess that's the point of trusting the journey.

Hero

source

My 9th wedding anniversary was July 9. Just as in my life before, when Dave was alive, I forgot to think about it coming up. Dave and I would occasionally forget about it and celebrate it any old time we felt like it whether we recognized it on the actual day or on another day. We didn't care. We lived with the motto that every day was our anniversary. No reason to wait to celebrate for that particular day.

So, the 9th approached and I didn't realize it. Consciously. As I look back now, I can see how my subconscious was probably aware all along.

Prior to, I'd say, the 5th of July I was feeling really good. The 5th through the 8th? Not so good. I went from crying briefly a few times a day in a bittersweet way (normal status) to crying for hours and hours at a time. A good, pounding crying headache became a constant. It became a chore to take care of myself and get out of the apartment. Sleeping? What's that?

The missing him got bigger and bigger until it blotted out all other small joys and excitements. The world grew gray and threatening.

When I tried to think of the cause, I came up with some theories. It was the let-down after the fun and magic of the fourth. It was the summer love in the air all around me that was making me feel extra lonely and envious.

None of the theories really rang true, though. On the evening of the 8th, someone reminded me of the significance of the following day and I realized that maybe all along, though I didn't acknowledge it consciously, the rest of me knew it was coming.

This has happened a few times since Dave died and I wonder if it's a protective strategy. A touch of denial: What anniversary? Don't know what you're talking about. What birthday? Nah, couldn't be. A special holiday? Nope.

As my conscious mind goes offline, my subconscious mind never stops churning away and the symptoms are a return of the grief monster, insomnia, and general misery.

So, things are getting a bit better now, but general, everyday stresses are getting the best of me and good sleep still eludes me most nights. When I don't sleep I become a miserable person. I think terrible thoughts, make regrettable decisions and grump around in a funk.

So, sadly, the one way I could deal better with the grief monster is to sleep and that's the one thing I can't quite manage. Yeah, I have sleeping pills, but they don't seem to help me. I generally notice that I get tired enough to finally crash and then I sleep so much that I hit the reset button and feel a lot better. But in the meantime, I have to be really gentle with myself, which is a challenge for me.

I just keep thinking that the only sleep aid that really ever worked for me was that wonderful man who loved me so much. I slept easily and deeply every night he was physically in my life. When he was by side, everything was right in the world.

I have hope that it won't always feel quite like this, but the fact is, he made me feel so safe, the safest I've ever felt in my life, and the loss of that is shattering.

If I have to go this road alone, though, it looks as though somehow (not sure how, yet) I'll have to be that for myself. That way, no one else has to provide it for me. I'll have to become the hero of my own story and make myself feel safe.

Somehow.

I'll let you know how that goes.

Open for Business

“So why don’t you throw a party for the 4th?” asked my friend.

My reaction startled me: “Ok.  How about a cook-out that afternoon?”  Game on.

Maggie and I used to throw parties. (I should probably be clear about this: Mostly it was HER parties.  I was just a happy helper - a very busy happy helper.)  There were big parties and bigger parties, but there were no small parties.  She loved to entertain and so we did.  This house was designed for parties and rarely did a month or two pass without a crowd getting their fun on in the living room.  Those were heady days.

To all good things, an end must come.  Or does life just transform into something different?

Apparently I was standing, perched, ready to pounce when my friend asked about the 4th of July party.  I didn’t realize that.  I certainly would not have suggested it.  But with just a little push, I sprang happily to action performing the tasks I knew all too well to produce a great party.

But this time was different.  In fact, this would be the very first real party in this big house since the last official (yet anemic) wine party in December 2009. My right-hand woman wasn’t there by my side directing, educating, and socializing.  But, you know what?  It was ok.  It was more work because, well, it was just one person whereas before it was two.  But it was ok.  And by work I mean I had several years of entropy to tidy up before I could even begin to do those things that get the house in shape for a good party.  And some of that plaque scraping was a little tough, as you can imagine.

That day, with the party in full swing, thirty or so good friends ate hamburgers and drank beer and played with dogs.  Kids painted windows with greasy fingerprints while the dogs cleaned up any food droppings.  And someone (or a few mischievous someones) fed Kali, my curious-but-dumb puppy beer*.  It was a full-on party.  The house was busy with happy people, smells of good food, and good fun.  Things were like they were meant to be.   Again… But it was different.

* Before anyone gets freaked out about the care and safety of my pampered and spoiled dogs, it’s fairly likely she found her own beer from all the orphaned glasses of vino and beer.  That girl finds all the trouble you didn’t even know was there.  Seriously.  She's like a two year old with a 6 inch tongue and a nose for danger.  That said, I won't rule out the mischievousness of my friends.

One of my guests, a wise been-there widow who is the mother of one of Maggie’s classmates from Baylor, pulled me aside during the hustle and bustle and said, “This is a great day. You have sent the signal people have been waiting for.  You are sending a message that you are open for business again.  From here, everything will change.”

July 4th, 1776 we as Americans declared our independence from an oppressive British rule under King George III.  On July 4, 2012, I declared myself open for business.  I’ll never be “independent” from Maggie nor do I ever want to be, but to be open for business again, I’ll take that.  Let the parties begin again.