On Fear and Change

The new year is upon us, and with that change, lots and lots of change.

In approximately 3 weeks our apartment contract is up, and we will be without a place to live, if we cannot find a new place and make a decision on it, in that time. We have seen so many places, and all are either too much for us, we don't feel are right or are staffed with incompetent people, and we are forced out the door.

It has been miserable. The one thing that is keeping me from losing my mind, completely, is the blessing Shaun got from our home teacher a couple weeks back. And he said "Nothing will make sense for a while." and that is the most true thing I've ever heard. Nothing is making sense. But I know something will have to work out eventually....

Shaun applied for and got offered a full time job working for Boys Town, and we turned it down. I wish I was exaggerating when I say that we wrestled with the decision for a week. We tried to make it work in so many different ways, and couldn't. Simply couldn't. It was extremely hard on all of us. Wanting so badly to make it work, and just not being able to. But, the incredible thing is, it's ok. It is ok. We're not any worse off just continuing to do what we've been doing. As hard as it has been on us. We have enough for our family. And in that regard we are incredibly blessed.

Emmaline's due date came and went before I could blink my eyes. I woke up the next morning and felt lighter. I think of my sweet baby girl often, but not in the same way. I wish I could report that this means I'm doing so much better, but that is not the case. I'll explain why in a moment.

Christmas went much better than expected. But I expected to be a heap of sadness and tears on the floor, it didn't take much to be better than that.

For the last 4 months of 2013 I kept telling myself, if I can just get to the new year, I can be ok. If I can just make it to the new year I can put this year and it's awfulness and it's trials behind me, I can focus on my babies and not the fact that I lost them. I can have hope for the future.

Well, the new year came, and with it, a giant brick wall. Of fear. Of doubt. I ran smack into it.

This giant wall shouts questions at me, questions I hate. Questions I wish I didn't have to hear. Or think about. Or worry over. Or lay awake at night contemplating.

But most importantly questions I don't want to spend the next 10 of my child bearing years answering.

I cannot spend the next 10 years of my life (or more!) living in fear of losing another child. I cannot. I will not subject myself, my heart, my body, my emotions, my family, and my faith to that.

I will not. I would not survive.

We are two months away from marking a year of turmoil. A full year. Of grief, of doubt, of faith shattering life. That I cannot believe.

As we've packed up our apartment, I cleaned out the bottom of our bathroom sink, and came face to face with my (seemingly every growing) stash of positive pregnancy tests. Stored with almost reverence in a plastic box that also keeps our sun screen and lotions. (Where else am I supposed to keep them?)  four of them. (Grayson has two) I'm sure some of you are thinking "why on earth is she keeping those?" Some days I wonder the same thing, and I think of throwing them away, but then again,  they are tangible evidence I carried those babies. I carried them. They grew in me. They did. Not for long. And they didn't get very big. But every second of every day they grew, they were a part of me. How could I throw that away?

Maybe one day I will find a home for them better suited than a clear plastic box. But that's what I have for now.

I have great fears of someone naively asking about them when they help us move.  I dream of telling them "those remind me of my dead babies" just to make the questions stop. I have fears of moving into our new ward and to have to answer all the questions again about how many babies I have. To have to deal with the "well, he's two, you ought to be ready to have another(s)"

It has taken me forever to write this post. Snippets here and there when I feel I have the strength.  It has taken me more than three weeks to get to this point, who knows how long it will take to get me to publish it.

I have been doing "necessary" things. Gaining as much information and knowledge as I can. And I feel no better off. Nothing is under my control,  and that is an awful feeling. Heaven knows I don't have enough faith for much more of this.

As I sit at a friends house doing laundry (we have no laundry room currently) I reflect on my last therapy session, and it just freaking blows my mind how much of my life, just regular general life is connected to my losses. I am mourning the loss of so much more than just babies, as if that wasn't enough. I mourn the loss of Bowen's siblings and his potential relationships with them. I mourn the loss of potential memories we could have made, they could have made. I mourn the laughs, and giggles, and smiles, and dances in the kitchens. I mourn the pillow fights that will never be. I deeply deeply mourn the fact Bowen will not have a sibling close to his age, to be his buddy, his built in friend.  I so deeply deeply mourn that.

As we went to dinner at a friends house this weekend, I was nearly in tears watching Bowen smile and laugh as he watched their kids play. He loved it. Deeply. And I cried when I got home.

I feel my ship has sailed, and I am stuck waiting on the shore watching it disappear into the horizon.