Serenity

The word serenity came to me while reflecting on my day today...I google search the word looking for an image that visually captures the meaning of it. This is what pops up.  It's actually another perfect addition to my day. If you're not familiar with the series Firefly, this is a ship from that show. My husband and I watched the whole series during a Netflix blitz.  Not only was it a good show, but it was time the two of us enjoyed together.  He's the love of my life.

Today my heart felt light, free, unfiltered...not tethered to pain, loss, insecurities, expectations, or fears.  So many days I fight to get through; it's rare to have a full day of exhaling and breathing in life.  The hard work of being in the middle and working through my grief feels like I was given a reward today.

The sun was shining (we always think of Vivian with the sunshine), I enjoyed a coffee chat, took son #1 driving, watched the season finale of Survivor with my family and laughed a fair amount today.  Time stood still like it did when my boys were little...soaking up the moment of watching my oldest grip the steering wheel and jerk his way through a turn a little too fast but all the while seeing him grinning ear to ear... It was forever captured in my mind's eye.  To witness him try hydro painting a scooter part that didn't go as planned and how he tempered his disappointment a little more than he has in the past was a gift to witness. Son #2 walks in the door and greets me with a warm genuine "I had a good day".  Those words are golden.  The last year and a half has been tough on them.  He's been in a long season of being defensive and short.  He was soft today, kind hearted, and thoughtful.  Ethan invited Nolan to the garage to hang out and help him on the painting prep.  Nothing warms a Momma's heart more than to see her kids connecting.   Quick wit rolled off the tongues of both of them during Survivor and we all laughed.  The unsolicited full arms wrapped around your neck hugs before bed... priceless.

Thank you God for joy today.  The middle is making me new.  I am blessed.

In the 'messy middle'

I need to say a few things... I am hopeful, I have security in my faith, I'm optimistic, I see beauty, I am strong, and I love life.

The truth is, that only less than 1% of the population can truly relate to what myself & family have been through.  Few my age have known a deep loss on the same scale.  It's isolating, it's f***ing lonely.  One author said it well "the loss of a baby is just the beginning of loss."  So true.  You learn who your friends are (the good ones are rare).

There isn't a day that I haven't gotten out of bed, I'm holding on to a 3.8 grade point average in grad school (just started the program after we lost Vivian), my marriage remains strong, my kids seem to be happy and sane, I care for others as a nurse, and I started a perinatal loss committee at the hospital I work at to make a difference in the lives of future families with a loss.  Life hasn't stopped and we've never been more aware that it doesn't.  We have instant perspective on the fragility of life, so we don't need to hear that it could be worse.  I think we're persevering, but we still need to talk about the path we're on with our grief.  It's so intertwined with our daily lives.  To bring it up in conversation is a need.  When I say this, I'm confident I'm not playing the 'woe is me card', I'm not wanting you to feel sorry for me and I'm not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable or guilty.  Tough love is far from helpful and minimizing what we think or are experiencing hurts.  Throw out something encouraging, anything.  Say you were reminded of Vivian somehow/somewhere.  Listen even for just a few minutes.

 Brene Brown (my best friend in print) says we can't skip the messy middle.  We're definitely smack in the middle.  We'll come out stronger and better and all that other great stuff.  We didn't have that 'academy award winning' recovery that our culture so loves and claps for, but we need to be in this place... the messy middle. For those who have listened and been in the arena with us (a Brene Brown phrase - if you haven't read one of her books, you really should), we are beyond grateful!

Navigating life after baby loss

Autonomic.
The thoughts come without warning. My stream of consciousness is like a river. Now and then there's snags that ensnare you. You break free but there's always another one coming... My boss shows us new pictures of her beautiful young granddaughters and points out their coordinating outfits that she bought referring to herself as "Mimi'. The tears flood my eyes instantly as to what would have been... the thought of my Mother showing off a picture of her granddaughter in an outfit she delighted in buying. A snag from the river. I suck back the tears and break free.

The cheering from a sweet, small voice just a few feet away..."Go Mason, go Mason, go!" A little sister rooting for her big brother at the track meet. Snagged. Vivian would have been hanging from the fence too, cheering on her big brother. Nolan would have LOVED it. I break free once again.

Watching my husband hold and feed a friend's baby - this is his first time he's held a baby since our loss of Vivian. I take notice like looking through a camera lens (the old kind, not on a digital screen), there's no joy on his face as there would have been had our baby girl been held by us all these months. Snagged. Loss just keeps showing up. We keep breaking free.