Comfort zones and new friends

Sometimes the things that I dread the most turn out to be something so much more special than I ever imagined.  I found this to be true again today.  My friend Tricia had five friends over for brunch this morning, including me.  All of us at that table, except Tricia, had lost a baby.  It was so amazing to meet these other women, and know they "get" me, and I didn't have to put up a front on how good I'm doing.  There were tears, there was some laughter, but most importantly I saw the love they have for their babies too.

I dreaded going because social gatherings have been awkward for me since I lost Isaac.  I feel like I walk on eggshells so that I don't break down or lose it in front on a group of people.  I hate being that vulnerable, but today I didn't have to worry about being the only one.

When Tricia invited me I loved the idea of meeting these other moms, but this morning I woke up extremely nervous and almost backed out at the last minute.  I had this picture of us all sitting around crying, and then leaving.  I even had another friend that was ready to call me for an "out" if it became "too much".  Instead, I was at her house for almost three hours, and it felt like we had only been there for half an hour.  

What I also saw in that room was a group of ladies that have also had their faith completely shaken, and yet we all talked about how we've grown closer to God since losing our babies.  It was so refreshing to see others that have the same perspective.

What I learned today is that God doesn't want us to go through the rough messy stuff alone, and if we're willing to go out of our comfort zone, there is sometimes great rewards.  I'm hoping the women I met today will become friends for years to come.  

Before leaving there today a couple of them told me about songs that have helped them with their grieving and healing.  While driving home I was reminded of a song I posted on my blog back in April of 2012.  I've listened to that song so many times since this morning.  "Even when it hurts, even when it's hard, even when it all just falls apart - I will run to you 'cause I know that you are lover of my soul, healer of my scars."

And I'm praying that God will continue to bring people into my life that will encourage me to keep going back to Him when life gets hard and messy, and I'm thankful that our friend invited us all into her home so that we could have that time together.  Forever thankful.

Next Steps

I feel like I've been doing really well with the grieving process lately. I've been happy and hopeful again. 

This weekend I felt like I was emotionally ready for the next steps. Our awesome friend Nichole Ruhl made Isaac an afghan long before we knew he was gone. She felt the afghan should still be ours so she made it larger with his in the middle. And now it's our family blanket that represents  all of us. We've had it in the box it came in until yesterday. We opened it and a feeling of peace came over me as I felt like I now has something to hold onto to remind me of him. I'm so thankful she still gave it to us. 

Today we took it one step further and opened the cd of the professional pictures that "Now I lay me down to sleep" took for us. We've had this cd for months, but just weren't ready to see the pictures yet. 

Today I saw his fingers and toes for the first time. When we were in the hospital he was all wrapped up when we held him and I never unwrapped him. It was too hard. I've regretted that decision almost every day since. So, as hard as it was to see those pictures, I'm so glad we agreed to let them take them. And part of me wishes we had pictures of us with him. That was also too hard in those first moments. Now I'll cherish these pictures. 

The only thing we have left to conquer is the box that the hospital sent home with us which includes a lock of his hair, his hand and foot prints and I'm not even sure what else. That one will have to wait quite a bit longer. I'm not even close to ready to begin looking at all of his personal things that are in that box yet. Someday. 

The loss of my boy is very real and something I think about constantly.  As much as I think I'm doing better and having more good days than bad, it's still hard. It's still a choice to keep going, and get out of bed each morning. I still feel like part of me died when he did, and I'm not sure that will ever go away. 

All that being said, I'm still glad I got to be that little boys Mommy. Even when it's hard, even when I have good days, he's always on my mind. 

Six Months / 182 Days

That’s how longs it’s been since the day we lost you.  I’ve learned a lot about life in those days. 

In the beginning every day that passed felt like a year was gone.  Those days it was hard to even get out of bed. 

Somehow each day got a little bit easier, and slowly, without me realizing it I started to live again.  I didn’t dread the evening when my thoughts would take over.  I didn’t wish for time to pass quickly so I’d “be over” losing you already.  And, somehow in these first six months I started laughing again.  Not the “pretend laugh” so that people don’t feel awkward around me…but real laughs that scared me at the beginning.  It was such a foreign sound, but it was in that moment I realized the old me was still in there, and I needed to give myself permission to let her out. 

Deep down I believe you want me to be happy.  I’m now living my life knowing each day that passes can be a good day, and will bring me one day closer to seeing you again someday. 

I’ve seen unexpected people reach out to me, and others that I thought would be there for me that weren’t.  Sadness does funny things to people.   They don’t know what to say and don’t want to be around sad people, so for them it’s easier to just stay away.   I don’t blame them.  Just like me – everyone is doing the best they can. 

I also want you to know that I would do it all again.  I would choose you.  I would choose the love that we have for you, even if it meant losing you.  Pain changes a person, and I like the new me that I’ve become because of you.  You taught me to be kinder, and softer, and to always choose love.  Even when it’s hard, even when it’s messy…love is always worth it.  You were worth it. 

Six months have passed, and some days it feels like it was yesterday that I lost you.  I remember every detail about the doctor trying to find the heartbeat, and putting his hand on my leg, with tears in his eyes, saying the words “I’m so sorry.”   Then, other days it feels like that was an eternity ago, and I feel like I’m okay.  Grief and time are a funny thing…but somehow we’re making it.  One day at a time.  Six months, and not a minute goes by that we don't think about you little one.