(not so) Ordinary Life

My favorite picture of Jeremy with our precious first born

And so the countdown begins...

In 56 hours or less (not that I'm counting or anything), I will be holding a new little life in my arms. One small person I helped create. One tiny little reminder of what life is really all about.

My sweet little baby boy has no idea what his life represents already in this world. In a place that can be so cold, sometimes stabbing, unfair, and down right hopeless...my little miracle is a reminder that life can and will go on, and that it can and will be beautiful again.

This afternoon, I was watching my 7 year old concentrate so hard on her homework, trying to write sentences. As I watched her expressions, the curves of her face, the movements of her body, I was in awe of the fact that she used to be this 6 pound little miracle that introduced me to motherhood. I felt her daddy beam with pride at her inside me and I just couldn't stop taking her in. Memorizing all the pieces that are just her - how did she all of a sudden evolve into this beautiful young lady?! I had several of these moments today with all of my children. Maybe it's hormones, or maybe it's the clock ticking away reminding me that once again I will hold a new baby and blink an eye and he'll be 7 years old....but whatever it is, I'm trying to hold on to as many moments as I can.

I continue to be reminded of what bittersweet really means. The life of a widow seems to be plagued with this word. But maybe it's the bitter that makes us appreciate the sweet. And maybe we can only experience real bitterness because we've tasted sweet.

One of my favorite quotes is "time stands still best in moments that look suspiciously like ordinary life." This epitomizes my journey. The moments that I remember and hold most dear in life really aren't the grand ones (although those are great too) but they're the ones where life stands still for just a moment and I'm able to observe and appreciate what life still brings.

I honestly cannot wait to start memorizing all the details of my son's features, hold his tiny hand, and soak in every moment I can before they slip away.  I'm excited to watch my used-to-be-broken family put one more piece back together.

I'm ready to live out the rest of this not so ordinary life.

Ready. For now.

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After hitting the 3 year mark on Saturday, I feel like a heavy weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Grief never really leaves, but I think the experience alone in a new place, along with the fear that I might have the baby before I got to properly grieve and get through the week left me scared and hurting in new and different ways. But, like always - and sometimes without my consent - I survived.

I watched most of my friends and family grieve from afar, over facebook. I watched some people forget. I watched my kids write sweet notes and hand prints on lanterns and their faces lit up when we let them off in the sky. I watched the clock, remembering every moment of the day 3 years before. I watched my phone, looking for the names of people I care about to pop up. Some did, some didn't. And I watched for signs that somehow, somewhere, someone made a mistake and after three years, this wasn't still real.

Now, I feel ready to go back to facing the life that Jeremy wanted for me. I know I'll have plenty more days like last week, when the weight of everything seems too much, but for now, I have some clarity. I have contentment. I have the desire to make him proud and love the way he taught me how. I feel this urgency to not waste the short life I had with him and to continue to love and appreciate what I have now. I was gifted with another reminder of how short life is....and to see that as a 'gift' is no small feat. I can feel a piece of Jeremy's heart beating through mine and through the hearts of the 3 little miracles we created together. And I see more pieces in his sweet family that means the world to me. I will hold on to those pieces and take them with me along the way.

I'm ready. For now. Ready to face another day, ready to live, laugh, and love. And most importantly, right now....I'm ready to have this baby!

26

This Saturday, I will be 26 weeks along. The last time I was 26 weeks pregnant (to the day), my husband dropped dead.

Oddly enough, for all the anxiety I had about becoming pregnant, it's been relatively normal and hasn't caused me too much grief. Until I hit the half way mark. Ever since, my brain audibly tells me with each passing Saturday, "only so many more weeks until you're 26 weeks." I am keenly aware that its coming up and I've sat awake a few times now with tears remembering.

Perhaps it will pass like my grief milestones did, where the anticipation is more painful than the day itself. Perhaps I will spend the entire day making sure Steve doesn't drop dead on me. Perhaps I will be a little neurotic and even just spend the day grieving an experience I never imagined I'd be going through again. Perhaps I can fill the day with enough distractions to help me forget. Ok, we all know that wont happen.

I fear that if this milestone can bring me this much anxiety, than the anticipation for birth may just send me over the edge. The two moments nothing in this world can reconcile with my heart: the day my love died and the day I had his baby without him.  Only love could have made me volunteer to face the potential for déjà vu.

It's a good thing love conquers death.

Thank you

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Today, I just wanted to say thanks.

Last week, I was hesitant to share my fears and also my joys of being pregnant and all that comes along with that when it's attached to grief. But I don't know why I was so reluctant, because I was overwhelmed with the support of so many.

So I needed to take the time and share my appreciation for this community on Widow's Voice. I'm so thankful that I have a space filled with people from all different stops on their grief journey, but who all come together to support, encourage, and bring hope to one another. Whether I'm struggling through my grief, or sharing the often guilty joys that come in the aftermath of loss, I know there is someone out there connecting. Someone who needs to hear what I have to say, or someone who brings me hope. That's the magic of this place.

Thank you for allowing me to continue to share my journey with you all. Good & bad, I have a place here. That really means something.

You guys rock.

Joy and sorrow

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Several weeks ago, Steve and I announced to the world that we were pregnant.

After we posted the adorable video we made with the kids (you can watch it HERE), I tried to write a post to talk about this sudden twist of events in our life. A baby was not in the original plan for us when we met, but we came to a place where we felt ready and desired to walk through the journey together as a couple and with our kids as a family. But the post sat on my heart for some time before I could get it right or feel good about it.

Here's the thing: I am thrilled. But in this space, I know I can be honest and say to my fellow widow(er)s that I am also terrified. I didn't know how to talk about both pieces without taking away from the other. Last week, I felt so encouraged after posting about my two worlds colliding, because the truth is, you guys just get it here. Joy and sorrow run side by side in life. And becoming a widow while pregnant sure made the scary factor of this pregnancy even greater.

It took me a long time to get to a place where I felt ready to face this journey again. I didn't think I would ever have to, so there were a lot of pieces I had not grieved before. Knowing that I am having a baby that isn't Jeremy's feels strange. Knowing I get to have a baby with Steve feels wonderful. Experiencing a lot of PTSD about losing Steve is something that he was willing to deal with during this pregnancy because it is truly my worst fear. But somehow preparing my heart for new life and the excitement that comes along with it has overshadowed so much of that.

I had someone on my blog accuse me of committing 'emotional adultery' against Steve because I was 'dwelling' on my life with Jeremy. I was even more shocked that she herself was a remarried widow. I understand that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but how do you just 'forget' and move on from the most significant relationship you've ever had? How do you undo building a life and three children with someone? I'm sorry, but it's not possible for me. I carry Jeremy in my heart forever, and Steve knew that full well when he met me. He accepts that and loves me for that. That doesn't, however, mean that I dwell on it or even that we spend half of our marriage talking about the past. Steve is my present and the man I want to walk through the rest of this life with. My relationship and marriage with him is just as valuable as my marriage with Jeremy was - I wouldn't have married him otherwise. But I am and forever will be Jeremy's wife. I will always have his children, love his family, care about his friends, carry on his legacy. I am who I am because of the life I had with Jeremy and no amount of moving forward can erase that.

Phew. End soap box.

Thank you for giving me a safe place to express my joy and sorrow as it runs side by side. Truthfully, as scared as I am to walk this journey again, I am thankful for the opportunity to redeem my last experience and to celebrate the love I have found in Steve. I am ecstatic to bring another life into this world and watch our family come together even more.

But a few extra prayers and good wishes couldn't hurt ;)