You take the good, you take the bad…
Lions stalk the Jungles around us in August.
This August, Leo was hiding behind one of those particularly bushy and leafy plants in the Jungle, doing his Kingly Duties without me noticing him too much.
As the end of August neared, I walked past his hiding spot. I was expecting there to be a Virgin hanging around somewhere by that time, but it seems he ate her up, and when he saw me, he roared and reached out with a giant, furry paw and gave me a whap.
This was no friendly cat batting. His claws were out, and he threw me into September in a painful way. I landed in the Ninth Month ‘O The Year hard on my ass and with jagged claw marks on my heart.
It was September, I realized with a jar, and midway through this month, it would be a year since I’d conceived the boy who had then died 3 months later.
A deep, aching sorrow captured me for awhile. On a few occasions I cried it out. One late night, in particular, left me on the living room floor doing what is known well as The Ugly Cry. Oh, that it was. Ugly with a side of Stinkin, Holy Hell.
For twenty minutes, I lay in a heap, pouring it all out into the carpet.
My face was a swollen mess the entire next day; my head throbbed.
But life keeps moving, and you kind of flow with it most of the time. I got back to flowing. In fact, I threw myself at going, even. Lions be damned… bikes, and hikes, and picnics… oh my!
I can laugh in the sun as well as I can cry in the dark, it seems.
But then, can’t we all? Yes is the answer. (Remind yourself of that if you need to, sometimes. It can be easy to forget.)
Then I realized as the end of September ran out that someone resembling Lady Justice had me sitting on her outward facing scale. Before I could throw something on the opposing one to keep things steady, she dumped me face-first into October, and crashing into another of those dates I can never seem to forget.
I knew, of course, the whole time I was flying down the bike path with the wind slicing past my grin and throwing out my pony tail in whips and flips behind me, that this next bump was coming. Of course I did.
Today is that date, and it marks one year since the last time I realized I was pregnant. It’s been a year since I spied that little pink cross next to that little pink line.
It was an odd day one year ago, emailing my husband a photo of the pregnancy test with a message that spoke of my fear, instead of joy. A few weeks prior to that, I had finally come to terms with emotions and thoughts I’d been having and I felt sure enough about what I had decided to announce it out loud.
“I really just don’t want to be pregnant again right now. Maybe one day, but not any time soon.”
Soon after, I began having… those strange, but familiar sensations. You know, the bloating, the craving, the heightened senses. When my period was late, I pulled out an extra pee stick that was in the bathroom, and sure enough, it was time to turn off the neon vacancy sign on this lady’s uterus.
I was struck almost simultaneously with fear, anger, disgust, disappointment, guilt, sadness, and grief.
The irony of the situation did not escape me. Luckily, a new set of emotions rose quite quickly from deep inside, as well: Hope. Longing. Joy.
Guarded, those three were. But they were there, unmistakably.
You can follow posts back through my miscarriage tag and find me talking about the feelings I had being pregnant again after a miscarriage earlier that year. You can obviously also read the posts that detail what I went through emotionally when this new baby also died, in early December.
This, right now and through December, is a hard span of time for me – it is the first anniversary of the pregnancy that ended in a second miscarriage. I know, it’s confusing. But I think the first anniversaries are hardest. I tend to believe that while the dates will always have a sting, these initial ones offer the deepest blows.
And if you think I should be over this, I forgive you. You don’t understand, and that’s okay. I sincerely hope you never do. If you think I’m dealing with it all so very bravely and I am very strong, you are sweet and kind. I appreciate that, but I’m just like you. Some days I’m so strong. Other days, I’m nothing but Jello. In the sun.
October 3rd is the first blow of that second time when I decided I could let myself hope. I wrote a post about that hope. I damn near internally promised my dead son that I would never give up the hope that he taught me it was okay to have.
And yet? I’ve spent a damn lot of time this past year being pissed off, signing off on hope, and mentally giving the finger to anyone who dared suggest I hold onto it. (Not you, really.)
Did he really teach me, in those short 3 months that it’s okay to hope again?
I have to believe that was the truth, no matter how things turned out. I have to, even if I don’t feel that way every day, you dig? I just have to keep believing that the lesson Davin taught me was true. About hope.
Because if you don’t have hope for something new and maybe even better, if not every day, then at least with some consistency, how do you keep moving forward? How, without hope, can one keep flowing and going, smiling and laughing, growing and loving?
I just don’t think you do, and so I know I still have it. Even if it’s a bit dented and has lost some of its shine.
Today I’m going to be sad, that’s for sure. Really, really sad.
And that’s ok. But I refuse to allow myself to wallow in misery this time. This will actually be difficult for me – it seems I’m an innate misery wallower. (Spell check wants me to change this to “swallower.” So you hear it here first: I don’t spit misery, I swallow it, folks.)
Yesterday, I said, on Twitter:
I got a variety of answers, and lots of support. Thanks to all of you who reached out then, and to those who have done so in the past. Even when you don’t hear back from me, please know that if you’ve done it, you’ve been a part of a support network that I value deeply, that keeps me going, and I thank you sincerely. (Even later, I come back to these posts and read your comments again.)
My favorite response yesterday was from @wbgookin (author of Daddy Is Tired), and I thought I’d share it with you. It is simple, and yet seems powerful to me. That’s the best kind of advice, isn’t it?
It’s what I aim to pull off today, and hopefully any time this same kind of question arises inside of me.
“Be both. Be sad for what might have been, be glad for what is.”
So yes… Today, I’m going to miss Davin. I’m going to be incredibly sad about what could have been, but was not. I am going to wish he was with us while I still rejoice in how wonderful it is to play in the sun at the park with Braden.
I’m going to do the Sad, Sad, Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy Dance.
Here’s hoping your Saturday is peaceful and beautiful, even though you live with a sorrow, too.
34 comments
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Gabriel
Another beautiful, poignant, emotional reflection. The frequency of your posts might have decreased lately, but the quality is still up there…
.-= Gabriel´s last blog ..PhotoHunt #54 – Words =-.
Sarcastic Mom, aka Lotus
@Gabriel, Thanks.
Twitter: LotusCarroll
Al_Pal
GAH. This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read in my life. Seriously. Such important reminders for living, and so eloquently expressed.
I’m bookmarking this one.
*HUGS*
Twitter: Al_Pal
Sarcastic Mom, aka Lotus
@Al_Pal, I thought Bill’s advice was pretty perfect, didn’t you?
Twitter: LotusCarroll
Veronica
I think the anniversaries are always going to be hard. Wishing you peace and strength today. And silence, in order to ugly cry if you need to.
xxx
.-= Veronica´s last blog ..Chasing Butterflies. =-.
Sarcastic Mom, aka Lotus
@Veronica, For sure, they will always be hard. Thanks, friend.
Twitter: LotusCarroll
DeuceMom
Feel it all. You’ve been through two horrible experiences that no one should have to live through, but you’ve lived through them and you’re a mother which is the best of the best. Congratulations on your pregnancy and EVERYONE here is pulling for you!
.-= DeuceMom´s last blog ..Follow up phone call – Check! =-.
Sarcastic Mom, aka Lotus
@DeuceMom, Thanks, but I am not pregnant.
I appreciate your kindness and support, though!
Twitter: LotusCarroll
Rebecca (Ramblings by Reba)
Much love, Lotus.
.-= Rebecca (Ramblings by Reba)´s last blog ..My husband cut my bangs… =-.
Twitter: ramblingreba
Sarcastic Mom, aka Lotus
@Rebecca (Ramblings by Reba), Thank you, Rebecca!
Twitter: LotusCarroll
Maria
I love you lady.
.-= Maria´s last blog ..Girl Talk Thursday – scents =-.
Sarcastic Mom, aka Lotus
@Maria, Back at you, my lovely.
Twitter: LotusCarroll
Jennifer S^N
Do what you must, it’s the only way, lots of love being sent your way.
Sarcastic Mom, aka Lotus
@Jennifer S^N, I agree! Thank you, and for the email, also.
Twitter: LotusCarroll
Drew @ Cook Like Your Grandmother
I saw your tweet about this the other day. I could tell there was a story behind it, but I didn’t know what it was, so I didn’t know what to say. Now that I know, I *still* don’t know what to say.
I hope it helps just to know people are wishing the best for you.
.-= Drew @ Cook Like Your Grandmother´s last blog ..How To Make Chicken Divan =-.
Sarcastic Mom, aka Lotus
@Drew @ Cook Like Your Grandmother, I really, really does. Any kind of human support network is an invaluable thing in this life. Thanks for being a part of mine!
Twitter: LotusCarroll
Anne
There’s no deadline on grief, my friend. Especially on anniversaries or major holidays or, hell, Tuesdays or whenever it happens to pop up. Anyone who says differently is a total dork and also in denial. I still miss my two babies like crazy, and I wish they were here with my living little cutie pie. I’m listening to him giggle like crazy and it makes me miss them even more.
Wishing you lots of love today, and the freedom to feel and do however you like. I suggest a lot of grilled items and beer and chocolate. But that’s just me.
.-= Anne´s last blog ..maybe I should end my sentences with prepositions =-.
Sarcastic Mom, aka Lotus
@Anne, I totally agree on there being no deadline. It’s hard to understand that from the outside, though. And that’s totally okay. It’s actually why I think sharing this stuff is good for all of us!
Thanks for the love – it is greatly appreciated. Grilling sounds good! I think we’ll do that tomorrow night when John comes home. But for the record, I did just have a beer.
Twitter: LotusCarroll
amanda
I think you’re being so brave about everything. I lost one on Christmas Eve last year (merry f’n Christmas, huh?) and haven’t spoken of him or her since. It’s a hard thing that no one can understand unless they go through it firsthand and I think it’s awesome that you’re able to write about how it made you feel and how you feel about it today.
*hugs*
.-= amanda´s last blog ..Pumpkin Turtle Cupcakes – Cupcake Hero! =-.
Melissa
Going through these first anniversaries is hard as hell. I don’t want to forget them, though. I promised myself I would always honor my two lost babies by remembering. I know they’re watching over me now, and I know yours are too. The grieving is part of the hope though; it keeps us connected to them. They were–ARE–lucky to have you for a mom, wherever they may be. Beautiful post. Thanks for sharing your feelings from one end of the spectrum to another. It helps more than yourself, it helps so many of us out here, too. *hugs*
.-= Melissa´s last blog ..what I’ve been doing instead of blogging =-.
Tarasview
Congratulations on another new life dear girl!
And you just let those emotions come whatever may. Joy and sorrow, hope and fear, anger and acceptance… our hearts are big enough to hold them all (whether we want them to or not).
And just for the record I still think of the 4 sweet babies I lost and it has been over 3 years since my last miscarriage and almost 9 years since my first.
I think that is the gift of motherhood- we have this amazing capacity to connect with our children even in the womb and that is a wonderful amazing gift… but it also means we have an amazing capacity to feel pain and loss where our children are involved. That’s motherhood for ya… full of the most amazing assortment of emotions.
hugs to you.
.-= Tarasview´s last blog ..CFBA- Intervention =-.
Chibi Jeebs
*squishy hugs & tons of love*
tracey
Shit. After the post title, I was expecting a sweet post and began singing the Facts of Life theme song in my head. Once I began reading, my heart exploded and my own sorrows meshed with yours and I? Am a bawling mess of Jello, myself.
You have my love and hopes that the next bump will hurt a little less, and the next a little less as well. There is no time limit on grief. There is no cap to the extent of what one’s sorrow “should be.” But I am trying my best to laugh in the sun though I cry in the dark. I hope you continue to do so as well…
.-= tracey´s last blog ..Who can I blame, now? =-.
pgoodness
I’m sure there are people who don’t get it, who expect you to ‘get over it’. I would never even think that…what a rollercoaster you are riding. His advice was perfect – I thought it when I saw it, and still agree now.
I’m proud of you for laughing, for crying, for LIVING.
.-= pgoodness´s last blog ..Fairly Good =-.
Twitter: Pgoodness
Cassandra Rae {Simply Fearless}
Beautiful post – I hope each letter, space, syllable, and word has wrapped you a little tighter in comfort and loosened the pain.
Domestic Extraordinaire
much love xoxo
.-= Domestic Extraordinaire´s last blog ..The Post Where I Get Sappy & Sentimental =-.
Maggie's Mind
You get to feel what you feel, pretty much like the good advice you got. There are a few days out of the year, anniversaries of utterly devastating events involving losses that I will never get over (and don’t feel I am required to get over), even if I try not to (s)wallow too much during most regular days. On those anniversaries, if I want to wallow, I goddamn wallow. It’s mine. My grief. I earned it. The hard way. I’ll do with it what I want (as long as I don’t take it out on anyone), how I want.
It’s like I’ve put these anniversaries each in a separate box that I take down once a year and really pull out all of the stuffing and tissue paper and crap and scatter it all over the floor, taking it all in, even if throughout the rest of the year I sometimes just kind of open the lid, have a little peek inside to make sure it’s still there and close the lid more quickly.
If that doesn’t sound bat shit lunatic.
In any case, I hope you find comfort in however it is you approach the day or let it approach you. Sometimes there is an odd comfort even in wrapping the grief around yourself. At least there is for me.
Sending hugs and ending this long ass comment.
.-= Maggie’s Mind´s last blog ..Silver Week Part Two – Izumo (with Weekly Winners) =-.
Maggie's Mind
To clarify. It’s been several years for me since my losses. During the first however long, I did do more than just peek in the box, even on regular days. No rules, just how it’s become this many years later.
.-= Maggie’s Mind´s last blog ..Silver Week Part Three – Matsue =-.
Secret Agent Mama
Love to you, always, my friend…
.-= Secret Agent Mama´s last blog ..Weekly Winners {Asheville Photowalk Edition} =-.
Everyday Woman
Your life is never the same after that little plus sign pops it’s head up in the pee-stick window. First you have to gasp, then think “Holy crap”, then smile, then imagine the new life growing somewhere inside of you, then you get a little scared and a little lost. But no matter what your final thought is, you still have to stand up, pull up your pants, flush, and get on with life. That’s what life is. Flushing away the crap, adjusting yourself, and getting on with things. Life goes on. Good luck.
.-= Everyday Woman´s last blog ..French Cooking Piano Player =-.
jill
MC’s, and subsequent anniversaries are always hard … no matter if they’re your first, second, or third … as was our case.
I cried for 2.5 years – and in retrospect was in a huge depression for a majority of that time.
You’re right… if you’ve never experienced it, you can’t relate to the pain.
Chris
Spit, swallow…leave it to you to dirty up a thoughtful post.
Hope you’re doing okay.
VDog
kisses
.-= VDog´s last blog ..Happier Days, Pt. 2 =-.
Twitter: VDog
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