July 25, 2008
Oh, Mr. Period. How I wait for you. PS, I feel different about you now. Like I am ready to move on but yet that I am not ready to replace you. Will you be coming back to me? Or did I only know you for that moment. Those weeks you were inside of me.
I wait. It is day 30 today of my cycle. I have 3 days more to wait until I will know.
I say that like in 3 days I will “know.”
But here’s the thing “self’ that I am so quick to forget. Knowing something is temporary. Knowing is a choice. I only can “know’ so much. If I take a pregnancy test and “know” I am, then I will want to “know” that I won’t lose you. Then I will want to “know” I will make it to the 2nd trimester, and the third, and that you will be healthy and thrive …and I want to “know” all of this.
I trick myself into believing that if I just can “know’ for sure today by POAS if I am pregnant, that all will be well with my soul. But that isn’t true. I will just want to “know” more. . and more and more…..
So today, I let go of my desire to know because my desire to “know” is truly my desire to be in control. And that I am not. I am not in control.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Saturday, May 31, 2008
May 31, 2008
Oh, the grief is real and raw sometimes. It just comes out of no where. I have my period right now. I think that is triggering the grief. I said to DH today it just feels like such a waste. Like my uterus is shedding and it feels wasteful- a missed chance to welcome in PS again. I miss you PS- I cried again today on your papa’s shoulder. I know I am not suppose to cling or try to control you back into my life, but oh, how I wanted you. I still grief what could have been. I still think about what it would be like for my belly to be growing with you inside. I still become paralyzed with fear that I will never be worthy of you back in my life. Help me to let you go. . .. let you go in the embrace of my selfless and humble love. Letting you be you, and grow and thrive in your own timing. Help me to trust my body- it is becoming so healthy- I’ve lost weight- slowly, but consistently- and I have been active and excersizing regularly since December with the exception of the two months around the pregnancy and miscarriage. I am learning how to stay consistent in practicing health.
I know the time will come again. . and then too I will whine and complain and try to control life. . . this is nothing new.
Oh, the grief is real and raw sometimes. It just comes out of no where. I have my period right now. I think that is triggering the grief. I said to DH today it just feels like such a waste. Like my uterus is shedding and it feels wasteful- a missed chance to welcome in PS again. I miss you PS- I cried again today on your papa’s shoulder. I know I am not suppose to cling or try to control you back into my life, but oh, how I wanted you. I still grief what could have been. I still think about what it would be like for my belly to be growing with you inside. I still become paralyzed with fear that I will never be worthy of you back in my life. Help me to let you go. . .. let you go in the embrace of my selfless and humble love. Letting you be you, and grow and thrive in your own timing. Help me to trust my body- it is becoming so healthy- I’ve lost weight- slowly, but consistently- and I have been active and excersizing regularly since December with the exception of the two months around the pregnancy and miscarriage. I am learning how to stay consistent in practicing health.
I know the time will come again. . and then too I will whine and complain and try to control life. . . this is nothing new.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Relections on Healing from the 1st MIscarriage
May 4, 2008
A letter to my past and future child:
This is where I start,
start to write, - a welcome letter to beckon, draw you into my life.
This is where I start to let go of my desire to cling, to claim you, to own you.
When you came to me, to us, in February, I claimed you, I gripped tightly to you, I begged of you to stick. I wanted you. You have taught me to let go, rather you are teaching me to let go. Surrender. As the waves of miscarriage contractions crippled my body, I glimpsed surrender. You were not mine, and I could not will you to stay. I was at the mercy of the universe. And so I seek surrender, little one. I pray that I am transformed by the gift you have been and will continue to be to me- if I surrender.
The love of knowing you was amazing.
The joy was profound.
The miracle of life was evident in my morning sickness and in the eyes of my usbandh as he beamed with pride.
But I tried to own you, to keep you.
I want to open my soul, I want it ripped open like the heavens- cuz then, and only then, will I allow you to walk with me in life. A soul I have met before, that comes back into my life more fully. I will know you when you come. I don’t want to plan it or schedule it. I just want, in open surrender, to soak you in….and in doing so, to let you go. You were never mine to claim. You will never be “mine.” You are a gift of the soul, entrusted to me, to us, to walk this earth with. But who you are is so beyond what I can “know” or “comprehend.”
You are light, gift, spirit.
Bring me to my knees. Kiss me on the forehead. Open me up to receive you- a gift greater than I am worthy. A gift I’ll need to spend a lifetime unwrapping. And I will fail at times. I will fail to surrender, I will fail to embrace you as light. I will cling, and falter. So I ask your grace. See me as worthy and carry me when I stumble.
I will be honest that I want to know “when.” I want to tell you it’s not fair to make me wait. That I DESERVE you again. That it will be all better if it just returns to what it was. But I know better. I know this is where the strength of my faith is honed. And for that I am grateful.
Lil one, I open myself up to you, and desire to be all that I can be for you. And more so I desire to be transformed by the light you bring to me. I want to show you the grandness world, and delight with you in the simplicity of the day to day. I want to offer to you a glimpse at the beauty of creation, and model for you how to treat is tenderly. I want to share love with you- of the many friends and family that love you already, that love us and desire good for our life. And I want to give selflessly of me, to bring me to my knees daily in opportunity to seek to love unconditionally--- as I come to know the vulnerable ness of love and life through you.
A letter to my past and future child:
This is where I start,
start to write, - a welcome letter to beckon, draw you into my life.
This is where I start to let go of my desire to cling, to claim you, to own you.
When you came to me, to us, in February, I claimed you, I gripped tightly to you, I begged of you to stick. I wanted you. You have taught me to let go, rather you are teaching me to let go. Surrender. As the waves of miscarriage contractions crippled my body, I glimpsed surrender. You were not mine, and I could not will you to stay. I was at the mercy of the universe. And so I seek surrender, little one. I pray that I am transformed by the gift you have been and will continue to be to me- if I surrender.
The love of knowing you was amazing.
The joy was profound.
The miracle of life was evident in my morning sickness and in the eyes of my usbandh as he beamed with pride.
But I tried to own you, to keep you.
I want to open my soul, I want it ripped open like the heavens- cuz then, and only then, will I allow you to walk with me in life. A soul I have met before, that comes back into my life more fully. I will know you when you come. I don’t want to plan it or schedule it. I just want, in open surrender, to soak you in….and in doing so, to let you go. You were never mine to claim. You will never be “mine.” You are a gift of the soul, entrusted to me, to us, to walk this earth with. But who you are is so beyond what I can “know” or “comprehend.”
You are light, gift, spirit.
Bring me to my knees. Kiss me on the forehead. Open me up to receive you- a gift greater than I am worthy. A gift I’ll need to spend a lifetime unwrapping. And I will fail at times. I will fail to surrender, I will fail to embrace you as light. I will cling, and falter. So I ask your grace. See me as worthy and carry me when I stumble.
I will be honest that I want to know “when.” I want to tell you it’s not fair to make me wait. That I DESERVE you again. That it will be all better if it just returns to what it was. But I know better. I know this is where the strength of my faith is honed. And for that I am grateful.
Lil one, I open myself up to you, and desire to be all that I can be for you. And more so I desire to be transformed by the light you bring to me. I want to show you the grandness world, and delight with you in the simplicity of the day to day. I want to offer to you a glimpse at the beauty of creation, and model for you how to treat is tenderly. I want to share love with you- of the many friends and family that love you already, that love us and desire good for our life. And I want to give selflessly of me, to bring me to my knees daily in opportunity to seek to love unconditionally--- as I come to know the vulnerable ness of love and life through you.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Journals from Miscarriage #1
3/14/08
(My first ultrasound showed an empty sac. Dr. wanted me to wait and do another ultrasound. She said it was too early. But I knew at this point it would not end well...)
Text book grief:
Did I cause this? Did I will this to happen? Was I not grateful enough? Was it the supplements? Was it because I stopped talking the supplements?
How is it that I feel like I new this would happen today? Or am I just a worry wart? I hate that feeling. Intuition or obsessive worry? I just don’t know. It makes me feel inadequeate.
I love you PS- and I will miss you if you leave us, but I know I will be okay with that part. It just feels like a cruel game messing with my need to have some sort of path to follow right now. Find a job? Stay in status quo? HELLO!!?? Where are you f&^%^&%ing leading me in all of this Universe? I’m tired of trusting.
I am impatient. I feel like the clock is ticking in life. Why do I feel like that.
Wait three weeks for an ultrasound. Then maybe we’ll know what’s happening. Maybe. And then wait some more to see if I miscarry. Then healing time. Then trying again. I can’t go through this.
3/14/08
March 14, 2008
To note to self:
You are loved, you know that? You are safe and protected and loved more than you know. And you are provided for- in all things. You don’t need to have it all figured out, you don’t need to make this safety bubble and hide yourself from the pain and disappointment of the world. You are an adult, capable, a learner, and your soul is light.
Breathe
Live
Bu The child like side of me says:
But this isn’t how I wanted things to be. I want things to be my way- just for once, just for a little bit. I don’t have enough energy to keep doing it. My soul tired. Hold me please. I am so tired of crying- my eyes are puffy, my face is read, I am so so tired of crying. And I am crying just because I want it my way. I know I am being a little girl in all of this, but come on. When does it end.
Cancer, terrible professors in grad school, loss of our daughter Yolle, and now this. What the feck. WHAT THE FECK! I am angry. I want it my way.
I called my DH Mr. Hallmark today- but I know he speaks some truth:
He reminded me:
"Accept what life gives you. The universe will keep trying to teach you the lessons you need, open your hands and your spirit to receive"
I do- I do want to release the grip I have on wanting life to be my way. But damn it!!! The grief is too much. Too too much.
I don’t want to hold and grasp and grip- but I am afraid of letting go.
Oh, tears, please stop flowing. . l
Journal entry after the miscarriage:
4/8/08
I’ve known you, I’ve had you in my life for 39 days, a little over 5 weeks- 10 weeks 4 days according to doctors math.
I don’t want to forget your story-
I promise I will seek in all that I do to bring your light to the world.
What will you show me from this dark, cold, uncomfortable, difficult place
I don’t want to feaer love, I want light, and hope in the future-
(My first ultrasound showed an empty sac. Dr. wanted me to wait and do another ultrasound. She said it was too early. But I knew at this point it would not end well...)
Text book grief:
Did I cause this? Did I will this to happen? Was I not grateful enough? Was it the supplements? Was it because I stopped talking the supplements?
How is it that I feel like I new this would happen today? Or am I just a worry wart? I hate that feeling. Intuition or obsessive worry? I just don’t know. It makes me feel inadequeate.
I love you PS- and I will miss you if you leave us, but I know I will be okay with that part. It just feels like a cruel game messing with my need to have some sort of path to follow right now. Find a job? Stay in status quo? HELLO!!?? Where are you f&^%^&%ing leading me in all of this Universe? I’m tired of trusting.
I am impatient. I feel like the clock is ticking in life. Why do I feel like that.
Wait three weeks for an ultrasound. Then maybe we’ll know what’s happening. Maybe. And then wait some more to see if I miscarry. Then healing time. Then trying again. I can’t go through this.
3/14/08
March 14, 2008
To note to self:
You are loved, you know that? You are safe and protected and loved more than you know. And you are provided for- in all things. You don’t need to have it all figured out, you don’t need to make this safety bubble and hide yourself from the pain and disappointment of the world. You are an adult, capable, a learner, and your soul is light.
Breathe
Live
Bu The child like side of me says:
But this isn’t how I wanted things to be. I want things to be my way- just for once, just for a little bit. I don’t have enough energy to keep doing it. My soul tired. Hold me please. I am so tired of crying- my eyes are puffy, my face is read, I am so so tired of crying. And I am crying just because I want it my way. I know I am being a little girl in all of this, but come on. When does it end.
Cancer, terrible professors in grad school, loss of our daughter Yolle, and now this. What the feck. WHAT THE FECK! I am angry. I want it my way.
I called my DH Mr. Hallmark today- but I know he speaks some truth:
He reminded me:
"Accept what life gives you. The universe will keep trying to teach you the lessons you need, open your hands and your spirit to receive"
I do- I do want to release the grip I have on wanting life to be my way. But damn it!!! The grief is too much. Too too much.
I don’t want to hold and grasp and grip- but I am afraid of letting go.
Oh, tears, please stop flowing. . l
Journal entry after the miscarriage:
4/8/08
I’ve known you, I’ve had you in my life for 39 days, a little over 5 weeks- 10 weeks 4 days according to doctors math.
I don’t want to forget your story-
I promise I will seek in all that I do to bring your light to the world.
What will you show me from this dark, cold, uncomfortable, difficult place
I don’t want to feaer love, I want light, and hope in the future-
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Journals from Pregnancy #1
Journals from The First Pregnancy
2/22/08
A little plastic stick, just out of curisotiy. It measures a hormone in my body. A hormone that is only in my body for a specific reason. The second line, forming a plus sign was faint. Dr. google tells me that positive is positive- but I still am skeptical. I’d be at 3 1/2 weeks. At four weeks, the culprit of all this hubabaloo will be the size of a poppy seed. I tell my DH I hope it sticks. He tells me its not like its snow.
Its an increase in HCG. Its not even the size of a poppy seed. How is it that I already have so much love for this creation. I know its early, but we created this. And I love my DH and the little poppy seed all the more.
3/22/08
To the cells growing inside of me: we call you PS. When we first learned of you, your mama read that you were barely the size of a poppy seed. The name stuck- I have been absolutely in love and absolutely terriefed from the day I learned about you. A bundle of cells, a missed period, two pink lines on a plastic stick- and our lives have changed. I have changed. I have been terriefed of losing you- and your poppa reminds me that this is just the beginning. As much as I want to grip and control and keep you safe and well- I can’t entirely do it. You are not mine- you are a creation of our Creator, entrusted to me. I have lost some, a lot of my innoncence in these past years- I know darkness. I know we are not immune from its reaches. I can find myself terrified of its grasp. And yet, in this knowing, I have also known light. And that light is . . is.. life.
So, little PS, my prayer today, and every day that I have the gift of having you in my life, I want to allow the light in-
I read a story- it brough tears to my eyes of a young mom, she didn’t get pregnant as easily as your dad and I did- but finally she did. Her heart swelled as mine has as she grew to love her little one- a boy- and for 36 weeks she celebrated that gift of life. But his life ended, before he even had a chance to live life- for no known reason- the darkness we fear and try to outrun grasped him- and she weeps tonight. But as I read her thoughts as she told her story- she said she wanted to celebrate the light that this little one brought to her life. Even in his short time with them- light. Even as she grives, she acknowledges that which she can grasp- light. So tonight, PS, I thought I would reflect on all the ways you have already brought light to my life in just a few short weeks:
- watching your poppa overflowing with joy
- feeling poppa’s warm lips against my pudgy belly as he tells you are story, and asks how you are doing, and tells of his great love for you
- realizing my heart’s capacity to love- I love your poppa more than I thought possible- and now you, a little stranger.
- learning to trust that my body has been created to give light in this way- the creation of light, from a little poppy seed, to a change maker in the world, a beacon of light, a servant, a gift giver.
- learning to take life at a pace suitable for today
- loving that my body is nauseous, and sore, tried, and pudgy- all in order to sustain you-
2/22/08
A little plastic stick, just out of curisotiy. It measures a hormone in my body. A hormone that is only in my body for a specific reason. The second line, forming a plus sign was faint. Dr. google tells me that positive is positive- but I still am skeptical. I’d be at 3 1/2 weeks. At four weeks, the culprit of all this hubabaloo will be the size of a poppy seed. I tell my DH I hope it sticks. He tells me its not like its snow.
Its an increase in HCG. Its not even the size of a poppy seed. How is it that I already have so much love for this creation. I know its early, but we created this. And I love my DH and the little poppy seed all the more.
3/22/08
To the cells growing inside of me: we call you PS. When we first learned of you, your mama read that you were barely the size of a poppy seed. The name stuck- I have been absolutely in love and absolutely terriefed from the day I learned about you. A bundle of cells, a missed period, two pink lines on a plastic stick- and our lives have changed. I have changed. I have been terriefed of losing you- and your poppa reminds me that this is just the beginning. As much as I want to grip and control and keep you safe and well- I can’t entirely do it. You are not mine- you are a creation of our Creator, entrusted to me. I have lost some, a lot of my innoncence in these past years- I know darkness. I know we are not immune from its reaches. I can find myself terrified of its grasp. And yet, in this knowing, I have also known light. And that light is . . is.. life.
So, little PS, my prayer today, and every day that I have the gift of having you in my life, I want to allow the light in-
I read a story- it brough tears to my eyes of a young mom, she didn’t get pregnant as easily as your dad and I did- but finally she did. Her heart swelled as mine has as she grew to love her little one- a boy- and for 36 weeks she celebrated that gift of life. But his life ended, before he even had a chance to live life- for no known reason- the darkness we fear and try to outrun grasped him- and she weeps tonight. But as I read her thoughts as she told her story- she said she wanted to celebrate the light that this little one brought to her life. Even in his short time with them- light. Even as she grives, she acknowledges that which she can grasp- light. So tonight, PS, I thought I would reflect on all the ways you have already brought light to my life in just a few short weeks:
- watching your poppa overflowing with joy
- feeling poppa’s warm lips against my pudgy belly as he tells you are story, and asks how you are doing, and tells of his great love for you
- realizing my heart’s capacity to love- I love your poppa more than I thought possible- and now you, a little stranger.
- learning to trust that my body has been created to give light in this way- the creation of light, from a little poppy seed, to a change maker in the world, a beacon of light, a servant, a gift giver.
- learning to take life at a pace suitable for today
- loving that my body is nauseous, and sore, tried, and pudgy- all in order to sustain you-
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