I’m not sure how many posts I’ll have dedicated to this sorrow in the long haul.  Whenever I think about what I’m going to write at any other time, I post about my life – what’s been going on, my thoughts, how I’m feeling.  An online journal, if you will.  I’ve been open, more open than most, about the details of my heart and my life.  I think people appreciate that.  I know I find comfort in the sharing (even if sometimes I get called an “unfit mother”), and for the most part, I have no regrets when it comes to this blog.

But I did myself a disservice last November when I wrote this post.  Because then I had to right come back around and write this post and admit that no, I wasn’t ok.  I was hurt and honestly trying to mask that hurt by returning to my normal status quo so quickly.

And again, I find that these feelings are true:

Last Friday, I looked down at my left hand and saw the tiny hole where my IV went in for my D & C and I was reminded that it had only been a week. A week since my life had switched directions. I cried.

Every time I’m in the shower, I look down at my belly and rub it. My belly that was just starting to round. And I cry.

Every time I want to have sex with my husband, but I can’t because it’s too soon. I cry then.

At random moments, I begin to tense my jaw up, pushing back tears.

As much as I want to desperately grasp “normal” again and fast forward through these days, I can’t.  And I shouldn’t.

Because it’s ok to grieve.

This time around, I’m approaching the grief differently.

I wouldn’t say I’m wallowing or crying everyday.  But every other day – yes.  Big tears.  Moments where I can’t catch my breath and my face gets hot.  And I’m angry.  At who?  I’m not sure.  But it’s there and I can see it and it makes me sad.

I’m grieving differently.  I’m responding to all of this differently.

And it’s allowing me to heal differently.

So what’s changed?

I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve.

When someone asks how I am, I don’t immediately say, “Fine!”  I take the time to really think about how I’m doing and I answer with whatever comes to mind.  And on more than one occasion, my response has made the other person pause (or gasp!).  Almost like I surprised them with the “rawness” of it all.  (Why DO we so often answer that question with an overwhelming, sugar coated, “YES!”?  I’m kinda over it.)  Times previous, I would have cared that the other person was uncomfortable with my honest answer.  Now, I see it as a lie if I withhold my emotions.

I like the raw.  And I don’t mind if people know that I’m hurting or that my eyes are puffy from crying.  It’s really ok.  I see this as a means of me growing up.

I’m taking it easy.

I jumped right back into exercising full blast last time.  I have wanted so badly to do the same this time.  But I’m limiting myself and taking it easy – my body has been through a lot in the past 6 months.  Aside from a Bootcamp on Saturday, I haven’t really worked out in over 4 weeks (3 weeks of morning sickness, 1 week post surgery).  I don’t have any plans for regaining the strength I lost.  I don’t have any fitness goals.  I’m just taking it one day at a time and allowing my body to heal.

I’m not making any plans.  And I’m learning to be ok with that.

Every bone, fiber, tendon in my body wants to plan out my life.  Have it set in stone and know what’s coming next.  The way I see it: my tendency towards CONTROL will be THE test in my life.  I know enough about myself to know that this is my problem area.  Can I let God take over?  Will I trust His plan?  Not just say that I’m going to but really DO IT?  Give up my control, my plans.

I have no plans for when we’ll get pregnant again.  I have no idea if that will even be possible.  I’m learning to just BE.  Right here, right now.  To enjoy Henry and Clara and know that they’ll be enough.  To enjoy my husband and know that he’ll be enough.  And whoa, it’s scary and frightening to not be in control.

This is my life challenge and I’m working on it daily through prayer and constant dialogue with God.**

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This time around, there is no jumping back into normal so quickly.  No pretend face of happiness or perfection.  No guilt over what I should or shouldn’t be doing/saying.

And I feel so much better.  Free.

Like myself.

QUESTION:  How do you deal with grief?  Shut down or open up?

splendid…lindsay

**Grief’s only defense is HOPE!  I’m not without hope!  I’m just putting my hope into God, and not myself or my own abilities!