Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Only You

Remember a while back when I got all riled up about writing Rip's book...actually wrote a book?  Then got rejected by 40 some odd editors and publishers?  That was (not) fun.

Finally, a very nice man who offered to take a look at some of what I'd written confirmed what I already feared to be true...I needed to re-write the whole darn thing.  Well, maybe not the WHOLE thing, but most of it.  Talk about exhausting.  I mean, wasn't it enough to live it, write a blog about it, and then kind of copy and paste all of that into a book?

Yeah, I was afraid not.

The problem was that mainly I wrote like I thought I person might write who was writing about losing her baby...I didn't write like me.  I didn't write what I wanted to write, I wrote what I thought "they" wanted to hear.  And "they" hated it.

So, for a while I've kind of not done anything with Rip's story.  And to be honest, for a while I've been pretty angry with God.  This may be a post for another time and place, but it all kind of seems to go together so I might as well get it all out in one fell swoop (what does that even mean?).

When I was pregnant with Gracie, I was clinging to my faith so hard, I needed God to be there more than ever.  Then when I had her, a lot of that anger that I couldn't afford to have after Rip died just came bubbling back up.  I came to the conclusion that I believed in God, but I was supposed to have all of this LOVE for Him...and to put it mildly, I wasn't feeling the love.

And that lasted for a while until I didn't feel that way anymore.  And that's that, or what months of inner turmoil looks like in blog form anyway. But sometimes I think people go through really hard things and they don't admit to feeling doubt or anger and I think sometimes I was one of those people.  Heck, even Mother Theresa had doubts!

Yesterday I was reading a blog another mother had written who had lost a baby years ago.  She was talking about a sign she received after praying for that very kind of sign.  And I felt such a sense of recognition.  I don't know how God works all of the time in the world, there are certainly things I will always question Him on, but I do know that He sends signs to mothers who have lost their children.  I believe in signs.

So, last night I started thinking about Rip's story again.  And kind of talking over with God whether or not I should write it again.  I flipped open my Bible (after many months of staying away, I've started reading it again) and the following verse is what I read: Now finish the work, so that your eager willingness to do it may be matched by your completion of it...(2 Corinthians 8:11)

And I realized that I am the only one who will ever be able to tell Rip's story.  I am the only one that was with him from the very beginning to the very end.  The only one who can complete this for our family.  So I hope I can do it, even ten years from now, I hope it is something I finish.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Dat?


Gracie has reached the age now where she wants to know what EVERYTHING is.  She is constantly pointing her meaty little finger and asking, “Dat?”…”Dat?”

Some things you can just pray that she only asks to see at home.  One she has recently become obsessed with is my c-section scar.  As you may remember, I had some…troubles…when I got out of the hospital with Gracie and so my scar is a bit larger than most (ie you could probably see it from space). 

Still, when this little love of my life points at it and asks “dat?” and I tell her “that is where Gracie came out of mama’s tummy”, she nods very smugly and smiles a small little smile… and I feel very, very lucky to have been so beautifully scarred by my children.

And “dats” all that matters.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Nights of Crinkling Dipes

Gracie has been sick for the past few days (somebody please tell me this immunity thing is going to kick in soon!)

Because I am now neurotic by nature and nurture, I always come to the come to the conclusion that something is terribly wrong any time she cries out in the middle of the night.

This has resulted in several nights of Gracie and me setting up camp in the guest bedroom, my body wedged into a "V" in case my strategically placed pillows missed a spot and, God forbid, I should fall asleep and she could roll off the bed.  Really, there is no need to worry as the mama is not getting a lot of sleep in this scenario.

Last night, as I lay there with a footy pajama-ed foot slung across my face, thinking about all of the things nobody should think about at 3 am, Gracie rolled over.

It was the crinkling noise her diaper made that did it.  It's just such a comforting sound for some reason. I looked over at her tiny little body, all compact in her bright rainbow pajamas, and the THERENESS of her got me good.  All snugged up, safe and sound.

There will be a day when she doesn't need me to wind my body into a "V" to protect her.  There will be a day when she knows I can't make it all better.  But in these nights of crinkling dipes, where we need each other, that's the good stuff.

Monday, March 4, 2013

Perfectly Said

I read a blog post this morning that put something into words so perfectly that I had to share it.

It gets harder as time goes on to know how and when to talk about Rip.  It's sometimes hard to tell other  people why I want to talk about him so much, but Jack's mom did it so much more eloquently than I ever could.

I love that when I go shopping with Gracie, giggly little teenagers stop trying to be cool and tell me that she is adorable.  I love that I can exchange knowing glances over her head with other mothers when I pick her up from school and an end of the day tantrum is imminent.  I love that everything about me when I am with her screams that I am this child's mother.

And I miss those things so much with Rip.  I miss having all of the same love for my child who is not here, so I can't be his mother without saying a word.  So echoing the words of someone who said it perfectly, thank you for continuing to say and for letting me say Rip's name.