Islands

It's been three weeks and two days since I took the pill that finished the process. I found out that my prescription HAD been called in, but to a different pharmacy. It was a random mistake on the part of my midwife's assistant, and it made me feel a little better knowing they hadn't realized they made an error, and therefore didn't realize they needed to call me back. It's a pretty bizarre mistake to make, calling the wrong pharmacy, but I have a lot more grace for an honest mistake rather than blatant disrespect. It made me feel a little guilty for being so indignant about the whole thing. The information I'd researched that had led me to question my midwife also turned out to be inapplicable to my particular situation, and her advice had indeed been sound. I overreacted. I wish I'd had the info up front so I wouldn't have felt driven to research on my own, but I digress.

It's weird- a friend had told me that there are stages to grief, and that I should be kind to myself during the process. I didn't really get the stages of grief thing until now, when I can look back and see the changes I've already gone through in the past few weeks. When I last wrote, I felt so incredibly fragile, like porcelain. I felt it was the job of everyone around me to treat me with care and caution, and I would get so incredibly indignant if anyone dared say or do anything even slightly insensitive. It must have been a stage of grief, like my friend had said, because normally I am not that person. I usually go out of the way to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, even when it truly isn't deserved. Something just snapped, though, and I felt like everyone owed it to me to be gentle and kind. I mean, who on earth would have the gall to step on the toes of a grieving mother? And truly, it would have been nice if the situation with my midwife hadn't happened, and I am still unimpressed with the way things were handled all around, but I am a little embarrassed at the uproar it caused in me. Then again, that is where the second part of my friend's advice comes into play... be kind to myself; it's a delicate season.

I hope that we'll be blessed with another child soon. I ache for it, and especially after our loss, it feels like something is missing from our family. I know that our next baby will not be a replacement, and our loss is not diminished, but my dreams of a large, bustling family still well up inside me and I feel this ache for more. More than what we have, more than where we are. It's not that I'm not satisfied or content, but it's just... incomplete. There is joy in the journey, so I don't discount these days of baby makes three. Our little family is precious, and I savor each and every day with Ella, even more now especially. As strange as it seems, I've found comfort in knowing that I have a little more time to relish in her before our family grows. I DO NOT mean to say it was a good thing- this loss- or that I'm glad it happened; I just choose to look at the bright side of life and see my half full glass and this is one way my glass is feeling full right now, this idea that I've got a little more time with my girl before things change forever. It's a strange dichotomy- this ache for more, mixed with this ache for the here and now to just stay forever and nothing to change. I can't explain it. It's illogical, I know, but it's here just the same, twisting and twirling in my head at all times.

I don't want my life to be defined by loss. I don't want my words and thoughts to reflect a pained life. My life is blessed. My God is good. My family is precious. I don't even want to give any more words to it tonight. I want to share about here and now. I want to share about the child that runs through my house, shrieking with delight, coloring on her arms with green marker when I'm not looking, asking me for candy for breakfast. I want to find a place in my life for this loss to exist without taking up too much or not enough space, and without any room for me to feel guilty for giving it too much or not enough space. I haven't found it yet- the place for this loss- and I wonder if I ever will.

But my gain... my child... my daughter, Ella. Who could ask for anything more? Has there ever been a child so smart, so beautiful, so wonderful? To me, she is the greatest thing to walk this earth. And she's growing so fast. Last week, while laying in bed with Stephen and I, she says to me, "Mommy BIG." Of course, it's always delightful to hear of my girth, so I said, "Gee, thanks, Ella." Then, "Daddy big too." Daddy mumbles in agreement. Ella says, "I getting stronger everyday... Ellie!" Smart cookie, that one. I was relieved that she had been talking about my adulthood and not my waistline, as well. And then, the other day, she told her Nana that she was too old to watch a certain cartoon. "No, Nana, I too old." WHAT?! Since when?! And since when do you even know what too old IS? My baby is growing, and she's doing it fast.

Ella likes to ask me for things constantly. She's, well, she's needy. She always thinks if she asks me for something in a high pitched voice, I'll give in to her cuteness. "Mama, I have chocolate milk?" she squeaks with wide eyes and a soft smile, and honestly, it can be hard to resist. I understand now, those moms that want to give their kids everything. I know that giving your child everything they want is a surefire formula for creating your very own Veruca Salt, so I say my share of "No," but I now know the internal battle of wanting to create happiness for your child. There are few things more delightful than bringing joy to those you love, and I am so glad that my little Joy has the same zeal and excitement for life that I do.

I had a little shock to my system, though, when we had friends stay with us last week. It was so much fun- my best friend, her husband and their 2 year old son spent an entire week with us! But I quickly realized that Ella has a serious case of "only child" syndrome. This was HER house, he was playing with HER toys, and it shook her to the core. I could not believe that my sweet, intelligent child was hitting and screaming and refusing to share. I guess I was naive, thinking it'd be easy for her, but she's never been in that situation before and I just assumed she'd take it in stride. BIG mistake. I felt bad for her, though. I know her reaction was wrong, and I definitely had to play "disciplinary mom" more that week than probably the rest of her entire life thus far, but I could sense panic in her at times. This thought that everything was changed and her life wouldn't be the same again. I don't think she could grasp that it was temporary, and she must have been completely thrown by the thought of sharing our home with three other people. Chalk that one up to "things every parent finds out after their first experience with house guests." She did adjust fairly well, and by the end of the week, she'd gotten into a good groove.

Even though the week was chalk full of fun outings, some of my favorite moments were sipping coffee on the couch with Crystal, as we watched the kids play... feeding them lunch, putting them down for their naps, and then talking, laughing, watching chick flicks... moments I will relish forever! The absolute bliss of inviting someone into the routine of my life, sharing moments that are as familiar to me as my own skin- the warm coffee in my yellow mugs, the smell of my apple cinnamon candles, the way the sunlight hits the color on the autumn leaves outside my front windows, the simplicity of my everyday life- these are things I rarely share with anyone and it was a gift to share these times with a friend who knows me so well but doesn't get to live these day to day moments with me anymore.

I know I said I wasn't going to talk about it anymore tonight, but I just want to say this: I am amazed at the ability of life to just go on. Even in loss and pain, God brings joy and comfort in visits from friends and warm cups of coffee, things that would have seemed small but suddenly become very important. My neighbor Ellen shared about a rough season in her life, and she said she found comfort in what she called "islands"... small things like a phone call, a good meal, a new dress... she would crawl up onto these islands and the brief pleasures would give her the strength to dive back in and keep treading water. When she shared this with me, it was like she was reading my mind, because I have been absolutely CLINGING to these little moments that infuse me with strength and hope. Eventually, I think you stay on one of the islands until life's next storm, and I feel like I've found mine, at least for now. The initial sting is gone, and the ache is finding its home in my body, slowly but surely. It won't leave, of that I'm sure, but I think it will settle and find its balance. As Ellie said, "I getting stronger every day!" and it's true- I AM getting stronger every day. I am proceeding with caution, but the point is I am proceeding.