Greiving

It's been a while, and I have to remind myself sometimes how truly blessed I am.

A couple of weeks ago, the 23rd of December, some friends of ours had their 8 y/o boy diagnosed with Pediatric Brainstem Cancer. You can read about him here. As difficult as my life is sometimes, I don't have to make the choice to have 3 months with my 8 year old son, or with radiation, extend that to 9 to 15 months. Either way, my friend Stacy is going to lose her son. This beautiful, sweet, innocent little boy, their oldest child.

My heart just aches for her. I wish I could fix it, but I know I can't. It feels so helpless. It is the same feeling I had when I stared blankly into the face of my mother the day she asked me if I'd felt the baby move. I hadn't. I knew she was gone. Yet something wouldn't let me believe. I went through all the motions of drinking juice, lying on my left side, etc. I pushed on the babe inside me, and there was no resistance. I went in and took a bath, knowing that I would be going to the hospital to deliver a full term still born baby, but still not allowing myself to believe it.

Oddly enough, Oliver is the same age as my baby would have been. The pain of losing her becomes raw as I think of the struggle this young mother has before her. I pray for their family and mostly for Oliver. He's been so brave and strong already. The emptiness in my arms is all too familiar as I remember the day I went home from the hospital. I sat in the wheelchair, and turned around to the nurse for her to hand me my pink bundle before I remembered that she wasn't going home with me. The worst thing was catching up with the woman who had left just before me in the lobby of the hospital who was leaving with her new baby girl, and trying to not let her see me.

When I had gone into the hospital, the trees were still naked, waiting for the sun and spring to breathe life back into their branches. When I came home, the leaves had popped open, it seemed all at once! There were flowers blooming, everything had turned green. It was spring, my favorite time of year. A time of rebirth. A time for growth! A time for life! And I was getting ready to plan my daughter's funeral.

If it weren't for the journal my sister sent me, I wouldn't remember any of that year that followed. The parts I do remember are spotty. The pain gets better over time. I wish I'd had a closer relationship with my Savior at that time in my life. How I needed Him, and I didn't even know it. I didn't know where to begin putting the pieces of my broken life back together.

I guess if there is one thing about the Palmer family that I am so proud of, it's that they are so grounded in their love of the Savior, and that Stacy is so confidant and strong in her relationship with Him. I know they will be okay. It's not going to be easy, and I'm sad for them. But I am glad they are in a better place than I was when I lost my baby. It took me so long to heal. There are still ways that I don't think I have.

The pain lessens every day, but the empty hole is always there. I always count the kids at prayer time. Time is definitely a healer, and I thank God that we have an eternity.

Thank you...

Lying in your arms is safe. You right the world's wrongs. There's no place I'd rather be. The healing touch of your hands on my skin and the fire of your kisses on my lips makes me forget why the tears burned my cheeks in the first place.

The love in your eyes is always visible to me. You accept me for who I am with all my failings and love me anyway. You love me when I can't love myself. You make the attempt to understand me. I lie in your arms with the strength that's there and know that I'm in the right place.

Spiraling...

what happened in the last couple of hours...?

I haven't seen you in over 20 years, and I am not ready to let you go again. I know I said I was a big girl, but maybe I'm not as big as I thought. I've been so careful to be appropriate, to not step over the line. So have you. And now, what will happen? Will I never get the chance to talk to you again? Will we be unable to be friends because she doesn't trust you? How many thousands of miles am I from you? And I'm married, too. My life won't be the same if I lose you. We were so close, and when we reconnected, it was like we were never apart.

I guess we just have to wait and see...

Do You Remember Me?

I was the dorky girl who liked everyone and didn't understand cliques... You made fun of me because I passed gas audibly while we were working in a small group. Do you even remember that? I was mortified. I wanted to die then and there. And you told everyone. That was the beginning of my middle school career. From then on, I was a marked woman...

Do you remember me? I was the girl who sprayed perfume on your backpack on the bus. You were always so smart, and made sure everyone knew it. I think I was jealous that it seemed to come so easy to you. At the time, I thought it was just a harmless prank. I have thought about you often over the years and wonder what's become of you. I can only imagine you are a brilliant doctor somewhere, saving lives and influencing people.

Do you remember me? I was the girl on the bus that you threatened and yelled obscenities at. You glared at me every day, and I ignored you, and secretly, I was scared to death of you. And finally, one day, I'd had a crappy day and you picked, and I snapped. I remember telling you to shut the f*** up. It stopped that day. You never said another word to me. I never did figure out what I'd done that made you mad in the first place. I didn't even know you.

Do you remember me? You cornered me in an empty hallway while class was in session because you wanted to "talk." You had me against a locker and towered over me, with your huge black arms on either side of my head. Every sentence spoken meant your face got closer to mine. And then you tried to kiss me, and I ducked under one of your arms, and ran. I avoided you after that. I never had the courage to be myself around another black man because of you. I was afraid of that intrusion of my personal space when it was unwanted. We were supposed to be just friends, but some guys just don't take no for an answer I guess...

Do you remember me? I was invisible, it seemed. I barely remember myself that year. I was miserable. I had unrealistic expectations of my life. I felt like I had no friends in the world (even though looking back, I know this was not the case) and this was the year that I tried to kill myself. I took a bottle of baby aspirin. I told you. You were the only one entrusted with this deep dark secret until just months ago. Except for a shrink 8 years ago when I was in a hospital. I didn't like who I was and wanted to get away from myself. You were there, never judging. Just being my friend and trying to help me. I secretly (or maybe not so secretly) had a crush on you. You became the impossible standard for someone else to live up to.

Do you remember me? I had never before that night laid eyes on you. I was drunk. And we made out. And I woke up disgusted with myself and realized that I was stuck in a relationship I had no control over and didn't know how to get out of. I was plagued with suicidal thoughts. And I prayed. I prayed like I've never prayed before, for help. I didn't know what to do. I prayed to know how to get out of the dead end relationship that was so volatile and unhealthy for me. I prayed knowing that one of two things would happen; God would help me figure out a way to get out of the hell I was in, or I would get myself out the only way I knew how... and something happened....

Do you remember me? I know you do... We were together for almost five years. At the end, you punched me and called me a name that still has NEVER passed through my lips, and those who know me know that's saying a lot, because there isn't much I can't/don't say. I still remember the feeling of those words. I didn't even feel the fist... I felt, physically, felt those words. I have never had anyone hurt me with words the way you did. Emotionally or physically. It took me years to forgive you. I couldn't imagine my life without you. I didn't think I could live. But you didn't want me. You may have thought you did. But you didn't treat me the way you treat someone you love. I was an object. A posession. It took a long time for me to see it. Did you know that I wanted to die over everything that happened? Did you know I was drinking to dull the pain of the constant emotional abuse at your hands? Did you know that it got to the point that I went to lunch with girlfriends from college and went back to class intoxicated? And I still took you back, because you convinced me you'd changed. You convinced me you were ready to get married... And when I called you and was married and pregnant, to ask if you were happy and if you loved her, did you know I would have left it if you'd asked me to? We would have ended up breaking up again... but I was more miserable with him than I'd been with you... sad...

Do you remember me? I know you do. You neglected me for six years. You slept next to me in our bed all that time, but never really knew me. I am partially responsible for the disintegration of our marriage. I didn't recognize the way you showed love on the rare occasions that you showed it. You never see our children. You haven't seen them in five years. Would you even know them if you saw them on the street? I'm fine with you not seeing them, except that you won't give up your rights to the man who sees them and takes care of them and loves them every day. I tried everything I could to save the marriage. I couldn't be the adult for you too. Would I do it again? Yes. You know why? Because I'd never trade my beautiful children for that six years of hell.

I know you... You are the one I live for. The one I love with all my heart, body, and soul. You love me. You take care of me. You put up with my tantrums and my extensive time on things that are maybe not so important. You provide for our children. You love me when I can't love myself. You really know me, and you "get" me. You try to understand even when I don't get it sometimes. I have one gorgeous little boy with you. But you have taken on the rest like they are your own. You are compassionate. You are funny. We have a good time together. I love spending time with you. I am in love with you after all these years. I roll my eyes and get annoyed with the little things sometimes, but they pale instantly when you look into my eyes, or when you smile at me. I love your strength, the way you hold me in your arms. I love how smart you are. How it annoys you when people don't do something right. There's a black and white line for you with most things, and you like to know which side people are on. I love your ability to be nonjudgmental. That's what makes our relationship possible. I love being able to talk to you. The first time we kissed,I knew we were supposed to be together. I am so lucky to have found you after a couple of wrong fits. You have been the piece that completed the puzzle that is me. I love you for eternity.

The hard decisions

they come with a price... We made a hard decision, and I am now paying that price. I am in pain. Pain that comes from a decision between two things, one that you want, and one that is the right thing... I had to choose the one that is right, but it's not what I want... So I am working through the pain of difficult decisions, and praying that God will take care of it.

Class I'm taking

I am taking a parenting class through the church. I really am enjoying it. I missed the first four, I think, but it's a 10 week course, so I started going a little late. Anyway, the instructor is phenomenal. I really like her. I always wanted to be a mom, from the time I was a very little girl. I've also been very bad at it, in my own opinion. I mean, I'm not beating them or anything. But I'm just not good at being a good mom. I am overly critical, and have very high expectations of them. So this class has been good for me, more because it works on issues that I need to work on as a person, not just as a mother.

And the changes have been small, and gradual. And in some cases, mildly painful. But there have been changes. And I am really grateful for that.

Things...

I am sometimes amazed (and not in a good way) by the lack of compassion from people who should know better.

There is an old Native American proverb that says, "Never judge another person til you've walked a mile in his moccasins." Ok, that might not be exactly it, but, you get the idea.

That's all I'm going to say, because those of you who already get it will ask me, "are you talking about me?" and those who don't will think I don't mean them anyway, so... if you think I'm NOT talking to you, you're probably wrong.