Thinking Makes it So...

Recently I've been reading The Power of Positive Thinking by Norman Vincent Peale.  It's a pretty powerful book (no pun intended).  The idea that the way you look at a situation can affect the outcome of that situation is one that is appealing to me more and more these days.

For instance, this morning I came across a quote.  It read, "The only thing that makes life possible is a permanent, intolerable uncertainty: not knowing what comes next." (Ursela K. LeGuin).  Many times since we lost Rip I've said surely, if things can go so wrong so fast, surely they can go right just as fast.  I think the "not knowing" is the scariest thing in the world, but maybe if I can get my mind in the right place, it doesn't have to be.  I have almost literally been to hell, and I am very slowly making my way back...I have no way of knowing what comes next, but I have nothing left to lose in believing that something good could be around the corner.

I'm not naive, I'm just not ready to give up.

I guess I'm starting to realize I've got nothing to gain by sitting here thinking something terrible is going to happen all of the time.

I read a book by another woman who lost a child recently, and when she was pregnant with her second child she denied herself any pleasures of the pregnancy.  She didn't take pictures, didn't find out the gender,didn't name the child, didn't buy baby clothes, etc. etc.

And I get that, when you've seen the worst you don't want to set yourself up for disappointment again.

But I really hope I'm not like that.  I know I'm going to be afraid, maybe even terrified at times...but I would like to think I will be able to find some hope in the not knowing.

One of the main principles in The Power of Positive Thinking is believe and succeed.  It can't hurt.

What If Syndrome

Sometimes I feel enormously guilty.  I can't help it, I think it just comes with the territory.  I look at Parke when he is having a really bad day, or my mom, or my seventeen year-old sister, and I can't help but think that I caused all of this.  If I had just done something differently none of these people would be so sad right now. 

Don't even get me started on Rip...what if I had gone to a different hospital, asked more questions...the list goes on and on...

When I am thinking rationally, I know that life can't be re-lived and how in the world could I ever have known the most joyful thing in the world...wanting a baby...could have led to so much sadness.  But to be honest, rational thinking is not one of my strong points these days.

And then there is the "what if" of doing it all over again.  As a mom who lost her first baby, I just don't know that I can, as in "do I have the ability", have a live child.  There is a part of me that knows down to my very core that some part of this sadness will not go away (and some part of this sadness will never go away) until there is a living, breathing baby here with us.

But then the "what if" creeps in and I start to wonder if that is even possible...what if I try to fix us and I only end up making it worse again.  I don't know that there is going to be answer to that question until there is one.

I Believe, I Believe, I Believe...

I think some of my friends and family have been surprised by how much I have talked about God and faith lately.  Even I've been a little surprised by the new spiritual zest in my life.

As I've said before, I was raised a Christian...but I've always been a fairly silent believer.  I was never one to break down the church doors anytime they opened, or spout off bible verses from memory.  If asked about my faith, I may have been a little uncomfortable...it was important to me, it just wasn't something I discussed.

The difference is that now, when I least expect it, I remember that my son died.  It starts with a sinking feeling in my stomach that something is terribly wrong, and then I remember that Rip is gone.  I think, Rip is gone and there is nothing I can do to change that for the rest of my life...why am I still standing...why am I still able to go on with my day...why was I smiling an hour ago?

And then the answer is there.  The only reason I am able to do those things is because Rip is in heaven.  The only reason my son is safe is because there is a God.  The only reason I am able to smile is because I will see Rip again one day.  The only reason I have comfort is because I have faith.

So yes, I realize that sometimes these days I sound like a bit of a religious fanatic.  But I thank God every day for that too.

Understanding the Past

My father's grandmother, Gram, was my first best friend.  She was also our next door neighbor from the time I was two until my family moved when I was in the second grade.  She made me feel like I was the most important person in the world... she called me her "Biggy Biggy Sweetheart", taught me how to tie my shoes, read to me until I am sure her eyes crossed, fed me massive amounts of her "special chocolate sauce" (and never once scolded me when the sugar high set in)...basically spoiled me rotten.

When my family outgrew our house and needed to move, my parents begged Gram to move with us...but she was stubborn and independent, and insisted on leaving the south and moving back to her hometown of Philadelphia where she would "not be a bother".  Gram died when I was nineteen, and I only saw her a handful of times after she moved, but I received many letters in her beautiful (if almost unreadable) script, checking on her Biggy Biggy Sweetheart...still making me feel like the most important person in the world.

It wasn't until I was older and she was gone that I learned more about her life.  I learned that she gave birth to triplets (one of them being my grandfather) before there was any such thing as fertility drugs.  I learned she lost her husband early and tragically.  I learned she had a stroke and had to re-learn almost everything before I was even born.  And I learned that she lost her first child, a son, when he was very young.

I've thought of my Gram often since Rip died. I think about the life she led, how much strength and determination she had and how much I admired her...when I was little and loved her only for the love she gave me...when I got older and learned who she was...and now, when I am learning who I am.  I understand now just how incredible she was to have made it through all of those obstacles and still be the amazing, graceful woman that she was, someone who lived every day she was given to the fullest even when she had every reason not to.

I do not doubt that she was at peace when her time came, I imagine that she felt, as I imagine that I will feel, that her work on earth was done...it was time for her to go see her little boy again. 

I have little doubt that she is with him and she is with Rip now, taking care of him just like she did me, making him her Biggy Biggy Sweetheart and spoiling him rotten.  All of them encouraging me to live this life as gracefully as a I can until the day I come to join them.

Pride

I am proud of us.
Most days are hard, and I have to take the time to cry and vent about how hard they are, but I feel like I need to also take the time to say that I am proud of us.
If you asked me a year ago if I thought I could ever survive losing a child, I would have said no.
But four months after the most horrible thing I could have imagined happening in my worst nightmares, I am still standing.  Parke is still standing.  Our whole family is still standing.  And we are still standing together.
Every day we get up...even if some days it takes us a little longer.
Every day we get dressed...some of us even try to look our best on days we feel our worst.
Every day we pray...we pray to God for guidance even when we ask him why.
Every day we try to do the things we know we need to do to heal our hearts, our bodies, and our minds.
Every day we are trying our very best.
And for that reason I am so proud of us.

The answer is no

Parke put it best the other night when he said, "the universe is not a fair place."
And yeah, I know, nobody ever said life was fair.
I started reading a book the other day that listed all of the things that they suggested parents who have lost a child should do before trying again.
Most of them I can get behind...go to the dentist, exercise, find a support system...
But then they hit me with this one, "make sure you and your husband would be okay if it happens to you again."
No.
No, I would not be okay if I lost another baby.
I am not okay with losing my first child.
What about every person at my gym, church, and office who all seem to have a baby with them...is anyone asking them if they are okay with losing that child? Of course not.  So why should I have to?
If I ever get pregnant again, I don't care if it is tomorrow or ten years from now, it is because I have taken a leap of faith.
I know the world is not a fair place.  I know that bad things happen to good people. But honestly, I think the universe has asked enough of me for now.

That's the Girl Who...

Life after loss is full of contradictions.
One minute I am full of hope, the next I am terrified.
I'm afraid of being "the girl who"...as in "that's the girl whose baby died", and yet one of my biggest fears is the day someone forgets my sweet baby died.
I spend half my day dreaming of the family I want to have and the other half thinking of the family I will never have.
I want control of everything but am reminded daily that I have control of nothing.
Pick yourself up and get knocked back down.
One step forward, two steps back.
Crying, laughing, screaming...somehow I get up and put one foot in front of the other.
It's enough to make a crazy person insane.