I learned I was pregnant when I was only half expecting it. We had been talking about having a baby but it never seemed like the right time. Then I turned 40 and we knew we'd better get a little more serious about it. Still, we approached the whole thing very casually.
But then, on December 22, 2010, I saw those two lines on the test. The day was surreal. In shock, we were thrilled, and we couldn't take it all in. It was the ultimate Christmas gift and we enjoyed every moment of it. We shared the news with the innocence of a couple who forgot that not every pregnancy has a happy ending.
I'm a planner and I like things organized. The kitchen needed to be renovated so we got on that immediately. Within a few weeks the room was gutted. Everything was on track so that we'd have a nice new space in plenty of time for the new family member's arrivals.
We started to playfully argue about names and each of us felt we knew what the sex of the child would be. We didn't agree. A sonogram at 6 weeks revealed a beautiful beating heart. Our doctor assured us that the chance of miscarriage was reduced to less than 5% now that the heartbeat had been detected.
I took my vitamins, read up on the food I shouldn't be eating, and forced myself to eat more vegetables. Plans for a nursery were underway and I started to purchase maternity clothes from a few online sites.
Then I started to spot. Everyone came to screeching halt for a moment. Panic, confusion, and fear quickly became the dominate emotions. I could barely remember how to operate my cell phone when I tried to call my doctor. They asked me to return for a sonogram the next morning. I think they knew it was over but they tried to sound optimistic on the phone.
My husband refused to believe that it was bad news. He had no plans to go to the sonogram with me and told me I was worrying for nothing. Deep inside, I knew. I pushed him to come with me and finally sent him a text message that he received as he was driving to work: "If I have to hear bad news alone, I will have a very difficult time forgiving you." He turned around and came home.
The sonogram tech was somber and noticeably different than the last time we'd seen her. She knew. A few minutes later she said, "I'm sorry, there's no cardiac activity." Our baby had died.
It's been months and yet I am still crying as I type this. My baby was due to arrive into my arms just two days from now. We have tried, in vain, to get pregnant again and I'd hoped that it would soften the arrival of what should have been my baby's birthday. I doubt it would have made much difference. I'll never know.
I question a lot of things. Why did this happen? Why did I get pregnant in the first place? Was there a point to any of this? Right now, I am remembering the time when I was pregnant and we were so happy. It was just for a moment, but it was an important moment. I only had that brief time with my baby and I was not yet blessed to see my child's face, not yet.
My faith tells me that the time on this earth is like a blink of an eye. Our baby brought us joy. The loss brought us pain. However, we WILL see our baby one day and that pain will be long forgotten. Therefore, it's joy that will endure.
Surviving Miscarriage
You had a miscarriage? I won't be arrogant enough to suggest that I completely understand what you are feeling right now. Each miscarriage is completely unique and comes wrapped in a varied set of emotions and extenuating circumstance. For many there is grief, guilt, anger, emptiness, confusion, blame, longing...am I close?
Each day-- even each hour-- can feel completely different. I often feel like a ship with a broken sail being tossed to and fro, unable to navigate and vulnerable to wind shifts that often came out of nowhere. I still have shaky days and it's been over 6 months. Is this going to end soon?
God, are you listening?
I am only midway through this journey but I have come up with a small list of suggestions. These are some words I wish I had found when I first lost my baby. I hope it helps someone else.
Be gentle with yourself. Don't push yourself to get over it or stifle your tears. There is no time limit on grief. You are allowed to feel this for as long as you need to. Don't feel pressured by the people around you who just want to see you smile again.
It's OK to say NO. Soon after my loss, I was invited to a party to meet a new baby. I declined. I made the right choice. I also declined a few baby shower invitations and sent a gift instead. No need to explain, just do what's best for you.
People say dumb things- forgive them. By now, you have already heard some of the replies, "This was God's plan." --"Maybe the baby was going to be handicapped." --"You'll have other children."...People don't know what to say so they say stupid things. Keep in mind that they are trying to be supportive. Ignore the words and focus on the emotion they are trying to convey-- comfort. They are doing their best.
No one means to hurt you. Right after I lost my baby, I learned that someone else in our family was pregnant. She is due right around the same time I would have had my baby. It was handled badly and I learned the news in a manner that really hurt me. It was not intentional. Just like the previous suggestion, remember that people do their best and no one means to hurt you.
You will hear other loss stories. Women will share their stories with you. Often, they will cry and you will see the pain in their eyes, even if the loss was many years before. I think that there was a time when miscarriage was not openly discussed and some women need to talk about it now. They are not looking for you to comfort them. Instead, they are emotionally taking a seat next to you and grieving with you. It's a precious thing when you realize it for what it is. My mother-in-law shared her miscarriage story with me and clearly, she had never talked much about it before. She shared the damaged place of her heart and I will always treasure those conversations.
Some people don't want to talk about it. You will quickly learn that some are uncomfortable with the topic or want to pretend it didn't happen. There are times when you will appreciate them because sometimes it's easier to pretend it never happened. At other times, cling to your friends that will listen. Thankfully, usually we have both types in our life.
People will ask you personal questions. For some reason, hearing the news that you had a miscarriage erases boundaries for some people. Suddenly you are being asked about things that no one has ever asked before. "Are you going to get pregnant again right away?" You don't have to answer anything unless you want to. Just shrug and change the subject. Eventually, they stop.
Just when you think it's better, another wave hits you. I was walking into church yesterday and an old friend came to say hello. I referenced our baby and, without warning, burst into tears. Whoa- where did that come from? It happens.
Just feel what you feel with no apologies. Your emotions will be all over the place for a while. That's OK. Just go with it and accept that pain is part of this journey.
This is not a complete list but it's what I have concluded so far. I am sure that there are many more suggestions but this is what I would l have liked to hear 6 months ago. Be patient with yourself, forgive the people around you, and I wish you a full healing, both physically and emotionally.
Each day-- even each hour-- can feel completely different. I often feel like a ship with a broken sail being tossed to and fro, unable to navigate and vulnerable to wind shifts that often came out of nowhere. I still have shaky days and it's been over 6 months. Is this going to end soon?
God, are you listening?
I am only midway through this journey but I have come up with a small list of suggestions. These are some words I wish I had found when I first lost my baby. I hope it helps someone else.
Be gentle with yourself. Don't push yourself to get over it or stifle your tears. There is no time limit on grief. You are allowed to feel this for as long as you need to. Don't feel pressured by the people around you who just want to see you smile again.
It's OK to say NO. Soon after my loss, I was invited to a party to meet a new baby. I declined. I made the right choice. I also declined a few baby shower invitations and sent a gift instead. No need to explain, just do what's best for you.
People say dumb things- forgive them. By now, you have already heard some of the replies, "This was God's plan." --"Maybe the baby was going to be handicapped." --"You'll have other children."...People don't know what to say so they say stupid things. Keep in mind that they are trying to be supportive. Ignore the words and focus on the emotion they are trying to convey-- comfort. They are doing their best.
No one means to hurt you. Right after I lost my baby, I learned that someone else in our family was pregnant. She is due right around the same time I would have had my baby. It was handled badly and I learned the news in a manner that really hurt me. It was not intentional. Just like the previous suggestion, remember that people do their best and no one means to hurt you.
You will hear other loss stories. Women will share their stories with you. Often, they will cry and you will see the pain in their eyes, even if the loss was many years before. I think that there was a time when miscarriage was not openly discussed and some women need to talk about it now. They are not looking for you to comfort them. Instead, they are emotionally taking a seat next to you and grieving with you. It's a precious thing when you realize it for what it is. My mother-in-law shared her miscarriage story with me and clearly, she had never talked much about it before. She shared the damaged place of her heart and I will always treasure those conversations.
Some people don't want to talk about it. You will quickly learn that some are uncomfortable with the topic or want to pretend it didn't happen. There are times when you will appreciate them because sometimes it's easier to pretend it never happened. At other times, cling to your friends that will listen. Thankfully, usually we have both types in our life.
People will ask you personal questions. For some reason, hearing the news that you had a miscarriage erases boundaries for some people. Suddenly you are being asked about things that no one has ever asked before. "Are you going to get pregnant again right away?" You don't have to answer anything unless you want to. Just shrug and change the subject. Eventually, they stop.
Just when you think it's better, another wave hits you. I was walking into church yesterday and an old friend came to say hello. I referenced our baby and, without warning, burst into tears. Whoa- where did that come from? It happens.
Just feel what you feel with no apologies. Your emotions will be all over the place for a while. That's OK. Just go with it and accept that pain is part of this journey.
This is not a complete list but it's what I have concluded so far. I am sure that there are many more suggestions but this is what I would l have liked to hear 6 months ago. Be patient with yourself, forgive the people around you, and I wish you a full healing, both physically and emotionally.
Miscarriage...
Miscarriage. It's not a great topic and most of us like to skip past it when it comes up. I always did. I remember when a friend told me she had lost her second pregnancy, I actually thought "What is wrong with her?" but of course, I offered the standard-- So sorry-- and changed the topic. That's what we do. Right?
Until the day that you are the one hearing the news. When the sonogram technician tells you--"I'm sorry. I don't see any cardiac activity." Suddenly, that baby you were just getting excited about, that nursery that you were planning, the names you were bickering with your spouse about...it's all gone. The dream is over and the nightmare begins. Why didn't anyone tell me it would hurt this bad. Wait...maybe my friend would have told me if I hadn't so rudely changed the topic.
Then I became the one that had to tell people that we lost our baby. I was now on the receiving end of the topic changes and blank stares. What is wrong with these people? But wait-- I used to be one of them. Back when I was on the far side of miscarriage. The naive place were all pregnancies end in healthy babies. Way back then.
I like to learn something from everything that happens in my life. What was the lesson here? I don't know, I am still learning. Rather than be upset with the reactions, I try to relate to their innocence. I try to remember being in their place. I also called my girlfriend and brought up her miscarriages. I told her how sorry I was that I had not offered her support when she needed it. I cried. She cried. Yeah, this crap hurts.
While surfing the net I found a bunch of articles telling people what they should say/do when someone they know has a miscarriage. I couldn't find one to tell me what to do when I am the one facing the loss of my baby. As soon as I figure it out, I will write that article. For now, my only advice is to be gentle with yourself and with the people around you. Don't let responses bother you- even the ones that say "This must have been God's plan"-- they don't realize how stupid they are. They mean well. Go easy on them and focus on you. Part two of this post will be coming when my heart is in a better place to be reflective.
Until the day that you are the one hearing the news. When the sonogram technician tells you--"I'm sorry. I don't see any cardiac activity." Suddenly, that baby you were just getting excited about, that nursery that you were planning, the names you were bickering with your spouse about...it's all gone. The dream is over and the nightmare begins. Why didn't anyone tell me it would hurt this bad. Wait...maybe my friend would have told me if I hadn't so rudely changed the topic.
Then I became the one that had to tell people that we lost our baby. I was now on the receiving end of the topic changes and blank stares. What is wrong with these people? But wait-- I used to be one of them. Back when I was on the far side of miscarriage. The naive place were all pregnancies end in healthy babies. Way back then.
I like to learn something from everything that happens in my life. What was the lesson here? I don't know, I am still learning. Rather than be upset with the reactions, I try to relate to their innocence. I try to remember being in their place. I also called my girlfriend and brought up her miscarriages. I told her how sorry I was that I had not offered her support when she needed it. I cried. She cried. Yeah, this crap hurts.
While surfing the net I found a bunch of articles telling people what they should say/do when someone they know has a miscarriage. I couldn't find one to tell me what to do when I am the one facing the loss of my baby. As soon as I figure it out, I will write that article. For now, my only advice is to be gentle with yourself and with the people around you. Don't let responses bother you- even the ones that say "This must have been God's plan"-- they don't realize how stupid they are. They mean well. Go easy on them and focus on you. Part two of this post will be coming when my heart is in a better place to be reflective.
Life is not Fair....and I am glad.
Life isn't fair. That phrase comes up whenever we are feeling like a victim. As a child I would say that because I had to do more chores than my brother. Or so I thought. As a teen I screamed it when I had an earlier curfew than anyone else in town. Or so I thought. As an adult I felt it when I was not selected for a promotion I felt I deserved. Or so I thought.
It's all about the perception; what do I think I deserve? How do I qualify that opinion?
What makes on person deserve more than another?
The young widow with small children to raise might ask that question.
The child born into a third world country where meals are sparse certainly might pose the question.
The family looking at the rubble that was once their home; did they deserve that storm?
It's not helpful to point out that life could always be worse. It's trite. Pain is relative. We each have difficult places in our life that we must walk through. Is it fair? Not usually.
I was on the phone with a friend to discuss some difficult things that were happening in her life. It was a conversation where the fairness of life could have easily entered in. It didn't. Instead she expressed her thoughts on how blessed she was to have her needs met.
I hung up thinking about fairness. What did I deserve out of life? In truth, I can't say I deserve what I have. I came from a life of poverty and uncertainity. My path was set for me to repeat the cycle: a single mom on welfare with no education or plans for a better future. Having been raised by a single mother I had never witnessed a marriage in action. I had no idea how to engage in a postive and successful relationship.
Yet here I am today, living in a nice home with all my needs met. I have been on some lovely Caribbean vacations, clothes are overflowing my closet, I have a nice vehicle in the driveway, and yet these things are not what I am most amazed to have in my life. My greatest treasure, and least deserved, is this adorable man that agreed to share his life with me. He is patient, loving, kind, and he makes me laugh. We have a wonderful relationship. I don't deserve him.
Life is not fair. I am so glad.
It's all about the perception; what do I think I deserve? How do I qualify that opinion?
What makes on person deserve more than another?
The young widow with small children to raise might ask that question.
The child born into a third world country where meals are sparse certainly might pose the question.
The family looking at the rubble that was once their home; did they deserve that storm?
It's not helpful to point out that life could always be worse. It's trite. Pain is relative. We each have difficult places in our life that we must walk through. Is it fair? Not usually.
I was on the phone with a friend to discuss some difficult things that were happening in her life. It was a conversation where the fairness of life could have easily entered in. It didn't. Instead she expressed her thoughts on how blessed she was to have her needs met.
I hung up thinking about fairness. What did I deserve out of life? In truth, I can't say I deserve what I have. I came from a life of poverty and uncertainity. My path was set for me to repeat the cycle: a single mom on welfare with no education or plans for a better future. Having been raised by a single mother I had never witnessed a marriage in action. I had no idea how to engage in a postive and successful relationship.
Yet here I am today, living in a nice home with all my needs met. I have been on some lovely Caribbean vacations, clothes are overflowing my closet, I have a nice vehicle in the driveway, and yet these things are not what I am most amazed to have in my life. My greatest treasure, and least deserved, is this adorable man that agreed to share his life with me. He is patient, loving, kind, and he makes me laugh. We have a wonderful relationship. I don't deserve him.
Life is not fair. I am so glad.
What's the point?
Success is often judged by the end result or the output. You are successful student if you graduate. A sports team needs to win a championship. You are a good employee if you completed the project. A relationship is successful if it leads the altar. A marriage is successful if you reach milestone anniversaries. Living 100 years is pretty successful- right?
Much of life is spent looking forward and aiming for the next goal. We want the bigger and more impressive home and car. We are saving to take that tropical vacation. How big is our stock portfolio? We need to save for retirement. Once I lose 10 pounds I will be a successful dieter.
As a Christian, I have heard the sermon based on the scripture “Well done, thy good and faithful servant.” We are encouraged to focus on the end and make sure that we are living a life that will be found worthy when we meet our creator face-to face. That is not necessarily a bad lesson but unfortunately, it focuses on the end result and lines up nicely with the American view of success.
After we successfully reach a goal there is sometimes a celebration. People will encourage you to “enjoy the moment!” For that brief period of time there is a feeling of acceptance until, very quickly, the moment passes. It’s time to set the next goal.
Each year we watch as Hollywood actors vie for a few select awards and sometimes we hear the phrase 'Even if you don't win, It’s an honor to just be nominated.” We don’t’ really believe that. The day after the award is given we forget all about the other nominees. They were not successful, at least not according to our version of success. They were close but they did not reach the goal.
Yesterday I did some laundry, I made it to the grocery store, I hugged my son, and I told my husband I loved him but I never did get the bathroom scrubbed. I guess I was not successful. I have an advanced degree and it was fun to celebrate when I graduated but no one wants to talk about that anymore. I have had some success in my career path including breaking sales records and submitting successful proposals but I am currently not employed so I am not successful. I love God, I pray, I attend church services and I give when the offering plate is passed, but I am not one of the church leaders so I am not successful there.
Is personal success is only measured by the awards I receive or the titles that I have attached to my name? Who determines the point system? Am I really only successful if I find a group of people who will determine that I have met their criteria? Is it possible to be successful without the approval of anyone else?
What if I don’t accomplish another notable thing in my life? Will God be deeply disappointed in me? I don’t think so. He is not the one who has set these systems in place. Ecclesiastics clearly examined all of these issues and determined that none of our definitions of success were correct. In fact, they are worthless. God really doesn’t care how much money is in my 401K and He certainly doesn’t care if I lose 10 pounds. If I continue to allow myself to be judged according to society’s measure then I will always feel unworthy and lacking. I want to take myself out of the contest and release myself from the mental stronghold that tells me "I can't be successful until someone else declares it."
Today I am declaring that I am successful. Period. I do not have to list any reason except that God created me and He is directing my paths. I am succesful because I am following God. I don't need to wait until my funeral to take stock of things and wait for the approval, I have it RIGHT NOW.
Much of life is spent looking forward and aiming for the next goal. We want the bigger and more impressive home and car. We are saving to take that tropical vacation. How big is our stock portfolio? We need to save for retirement. Once I lose 10 pounds I will be a successful dieter.
As a Christian, I have heard the sermon based on the scripture “Well done, thy good and faithful servant.” We are encouraged to focus on the end and make sure that we are living a life that will be found worthy when we meet our creator face-to face. That is not necessarily a bad lesson but unfortunately, it focuses on the end result and lines up nicely with the American view of success.
After we successfully reach a goal there is sometimes a celebration. People will encourage you to “enjoy the moment!” For that brief period of time there is a feeling of acceptance until, very quickly, the moment passes. It’s time to set the next goal.
Each year we watch as Hollywood actors vie for a few select awards and sometimes we hear the phrase 'Even if you don't win, It’s an honor to just be nominated.” We don’t’ really believe that. The day after the award is given we forget all about the other nominees. They were not successful, at least not according to our version of success. They were close but they did not reach the goal.
Yesterday I did some laundry, I made it to the grocery store, I hugged my son, and I told my husband I loved him but I never did get the bathroom scrubbed. I guess I was not successful. I have an advanced degree and it was fun to celebrate when I graduated but no one wants to talk about that anymore. I have had some success in my career path including breaking sales records and submitting successful proposals but I am currently not employed so I am not successful. I love God, I pray, I attend church services and I give when the offering plate is passed, but I am not one of the church leaders so I am not successful there.
Is personal success is only measured by the awards I receive or the titles that I have attached to my name? Who determines the point system? Am I really only successful if I find a group of people who will determine that I have met their criteria? Is it possible to be successful without the approval of anyone else?
What if I don’t accomplish another notable thing in my life? Will God be deeply disappointed in me? I don’t think so. He is not the one who has set these systems in place. Ecclesiastics clearly examined all of these issues and determined that none of our definitions of success were correct. In fact, they are worthless. God really doesn’t care how much money is in my 401K and He certainly doesn’t care if I lose 10 pounds. If I continue to allow myself to be judged according to society’s measure then I will always feel unworthy and lacking. I want to take myself out of the contest and release myself from the mental stronghold that tells me "I can't be successful until someone else declares it."
Today I am declaring that I am successful. Period. I do not have to list any reason except that God created me and He is directing my paths. I am succesful because I am following God. I don't need to wait until my funeral to take stock of things and wait for the approval, I have it RIGHT NOW.
I wasn't done needing her
"She's gone. Grandma didn't make it through the surgery"
Those words caused my world to shift and forever my life will be segmented into the day before I heard this news and the day after. We expect our grandmothers will not live forever. As children often our friends will talk of losing a grandparent. We are aware that grandparents sometimes die. As an adult it is an even less shocking event. How could I explain to anyone that to me, this was earth shattering. You see, I needed her. I still needed her. I was not done needing her.
Growing up in a single parent home with little money meant that our life was not always stable. We moved every few years. Meals were sometimes strangely creative. My mother was prone to mood swings and every day was a toss up. She might be in a wonderful mood; singing, laughing and ready to play a board game with us. Or she might ready to explode and the slightest thing could set her off. Our home was often like walking through a mine field but no one was allowed to mention it. Mom thought she was a wonderful mother and it was our role, as her children, to play along. Sometimes it was true.
My parents were teenagers when I was born. I spent much of my first 5 years living at my grandma's home. After that I spent many weekends and school vacations visiting. Most of the time it was very calm and peaceful. Meals were on a schedule and very consistent. Grandma had two or three general moods; dutiful, irritated, or laughing. She spent most of her time in the first mode. She was always busy with something. Usually she was in the kitchen preparing, baking, canning, creating one of her lists, sorting through coupons, talking on the phone, doing dishes, ironing, planning for dinner....it was her domain. I loved to be there with her. She treated me like her companion. When I was at Grandma's house, I was a good girl. That was simply who I was. I felt ten feet tall.
As I grew up and made terrible decisions Grandma pretended not to notice. When I called she would talk to me for an hour just catching up. If she was feeling judgmental she never let on. She was there to support me every step of the way. She never missed a birthday card or a Christmas present. Dutiful. Consistent.
I needed her. She was the one thing in my life that did not change. The same house, the same phone number, the same 3 moods. I knew that I could dial the phone number and she would be there to chat. I could stop in at her home and she would always be happy to see me. Why didn't I do that more often? Is there any point torturing myself with that question now?
Without her there I felt.....I feel...like I am a ship sailing without the comfort of a lighthouse to guide me along the rocky shore. The line I was tethered to has been cut and I no longer have that stable place....that stable person to grab onto.
Getting through the funeral was excruciating. My husband has a very calm spirit and I soon realized that as long as he was within a few feet of me, I felt steady. I fell asleep crying in his arms more than once. I am thankful that God, in all his mercy and wisdom, brought my husband into my life before Grandma passed on. The timing was never going to be good for me but I was better prepared than I realized. God had a plan in place already.
Are we supposed to ever get to a place where we don't need other people? Is there a time when we stop needing the support and security of others? I don't think I was done needing my grandma. It's been nearly 3 years and I need her right now. My heart aches and is shattered in a million pieces but I don't want it to heal. Not completely. That pain reminds me of the depth that I love her. It doesn't overtake me anymore but I can still visit the place where my loss was fresh. Then I can grab the hand of my husband and allow myself to come back to a place of peace, warmth and security. I need him.
Those words caused my world to shift and forever my life will be segmented into the day before I heard this news and the day after. We expect our grandmothers will not live forever. As children often our friends will talk of losing a grandparent. We are aware that grandparents sometimes die. As an adult it is an even less shocking event. How could I explain to anyone that to me, this was earth shattering. You see, I needed her. I still needed her. I was not done needing her.
Growing up in a single parent home with little money meant that our life was not always stable. We moved every few years. Meals were sometimes strangely creative. My mother was prone to mood swings and every day was a toss up. She might be in a wonderful mood; singing, laughing and ready to play a board game with us. Or she might ready to explode and the slightest thing could set her off. Our home was often like walking through a mine field but no one was allowed to mention it. Mom thought she was a wonderful mother and it was our role, as her children, to play along. Sometimes it was true.
My parents were teenagers when I was born. I spent much of my first 5 years living at my grandma's home. After that I spent many weekends and school vacations visiting. Most of the time it was very calm and peaceful. Meals were on a schedule and very consistent. Grandma had two or three general moods; dutiful, irritated, or laughing. She spent most of her time in the first mode. She was always busy with something. Usually she was in the kitchen preparing, baking, canning, creating one of her lists, sorting through coupons, talking on the phone, doing dishes, ironing, planning for dinner....it was her domain. I loved to be there with her. She treated me like her companion. When I was at Grandma's house, I was a good girl. That was simply who I was. I felt ten feet tall.
As I grew up and made terrible decisions Grandma pretended not to notice. When I called she would talk to me for an hour just catching up. If she was feeling judgmental she never let on. She was there to support me every step of the way. She never missed a birthday card or a Christmas present. Dutiful. Consistent.
I needed her. She was the one thing in my life that did not change. The same house, the same phone number, the same 3 moods. I knew that I could dial the phone number and she would be there to chat. I could stop in at her home and she would always be happy to see me. Why didn't I do that more often? Is there any point torturing myself with that question now?
Without her there I felt.....I feel...like I am a ship sailing without the comfort of a lighthouse to guide me along the rocky shore. The line I was tethered to has been cut and I no longer have that stable place....that stable person to grab onto.
Getting through the funeral was excruciating. My husband has a very calm spirit and I soon realized that as long as he was within a few feet of me, I felt steady. I fell asleep crying in his arms more than once. I am thankful that God, in all his mercy and wisdom, brought my husband into my life before Grandma passed on. The timing was never going to be good for me but I was better prepared than I realized. God had a plan in place already.
Are we supposed to ever get to a place where we don't need other people? Is there a time when we stop needing the support and security of others? I don't think I was done needing my grandma. It's been nearly 3 years and I need her right now. My heart aches and is shattered in a million pieces but I don't want it to heal. Not completely. That pain reminds me of the depth that I love her. It doesn't overtake me anymore but I can still visit the place where my loss was fresh. Then I can grab the hand of my husband and allow myself to come back to a place of peace, warmth and security. I need him.
Costumes and Such
What is it about the last day of October that brings out the kid in so many of us? Some of the costumes are obvious fantasy or meant to be humorous while others are professions such as a nurse or a doctor. Doesn't it seem strange that an accountant dressed as a doctor is in costume, while an actual MD can wear scrubs nearly every day without being considered in costume?
Don't we all wear a costume everyday when you think about it? We dress in the way we want to world to see us and we expect them to interact with us according to our attire. If we were pulled over by a police officer in jeans and a Nike t-shirt we would wonder what was going on. If we saw a lady in a housecoat remove letters from our mail box we would not even consider that she might be a postal worker. Fast food restaurants have uniforms as do football players.
I often notice the group of uniforms without focusing on a single person. Uniforms create anonymity.
Today at TGI Fridays I noticed a group of business lunchers. One man was perfectly groomed in a suit and coiffed hair. His attire said something to those who were interacting with him. Another woman was also wearing a suit but appeared less stiff and more comfortable in her skin. Within moments she commanded the discussion and it was easy to see that she was the leader. I watched the group for a while and tried to picture them sitting there in sneakers and sweatshirts, which was nearly impossible.
It occurred to me that a child could wear any of their outfits for the upcoming Halloween celebration. They were all in costume. I was there to meet my friend for lunch. She arrived in jeans and a dressy blouse which suggested that although it was her day off she was still concerned with her appearance. Two female diners sat nearby with a small baby in a car seat. The new mother was wearing sloppy clothes and had her hair in a messy updo. She was sending a message that said "I don't care and don't bother me. I'm tired." Message received.
While we are sending a message with our clothing choices we also tend to adjust our behavior accordingly. When you are dressed up you carry yourself in a more proper manner. Can you imagine eating chicken wings and pizza in a cocktail gown or tuxedo?
Some Halloween costumes are pricey but when we compare them with the price we pay for our everyday costumes perhaps they are a bargain? When I consider that I am selecting a costume each morning I feel a little embarrassed that I would spend so much money on a brand name item. What am I trying to convey? What do I want people to perceive about me?
As soon as I get home from work each day I can't wait to rip off my business attire and get my earrings out. It might be psychological but for some reason my earrings start to feel very heavy when I get to my bedroom at the end of the day. I have not noticed them all day but when I enter my room I am suddenly unable to bear them for another moment. I am ready to shed my costume and I throw on some comfortable sweats and a soft cotton t-shirt. I feel like I can stretch and move. I can relax. I can be ME. So who was I being for the rest of the day if that wasn't me?
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