I Have This Moment

Note:  This is a story of loss of a pregnancy.  Exercise discretion if you are sensitive to this matter.

Sunday's Blues

I curled up under his arm.  The warmth of tears on my face are dried by that special secret spot between his shoulder and neck, that place of peace I have known for ten years.  I feel immediate comfort.  I am scared, but here, in this spot, I am safe.

My son sees us.  He runs, runs to grab his puppy dog, Six.  He climbs up onto my husband's lap.  He curls in, with his long eyelashes and sweet smiling cheeks, sits face to face with me.

My eyes fill with tears.  Here we all are, curled and cuddled in comfort and peace.  My mind, for just a few seconds, stops.  I feel the love of our family.  I feel the safety, the hope, and the faith that everything will be alright.

I have this moment.

***

Monday's Clarity

A cold draft wafts up and under the crinkly paper.  We are in the dark, waiting to see something.

My husband was rushing from work to meet us at the doctor's office, but got stuck in traffic.  So, here, I lay, with my son, and the doctor, and the machine, searching.

The air is thick with anticipation.  Anticipation of the words I don't really want to hear, but in my heart I already know.

I feel my son's soft touch.  He taps my arm.  Gently.  Softly.  As if he knows too.  As if to say, It's gonna be okay, Mommy.

Gratitude for my son's tenderness and patience is interrupted.

There is no development.  So, you are pregnant, but you're not.  

I search his face.  His soft tender eyes seem guarded behind his glasses, as if he's waiting for me to crumble. We sit in silence.

I drive home.  My son chatters in the back seat.

***

An Overwhelming Moment of LOVE

We go to the park.  My husband, my son, Miss Percy and me.  Go to play baseball.

The wind is blowing.  The grass is freshly cut, soft and green.  Miss Percy flips her tail with delight.

My husband's hand melts into mine, fingers intertwined, holding on for comfort.  I feel the warmth of the sun on my face and shoulders.

It seems surreal what's just happened, and yet I feel a calm surrender, a deep peace.  I can question why...I can wonder what I did wrong...I can be outraged with the injustice of having to go through all of this again...Or, I can simply feel the sun on my face...The sweet embrace of my husband's loving hands...The excitement of my son's swing of the bat.

The crack of the bat.  A Homerun! he screams as he runs around us.

I have this moment.

***

Bad Things Happen To Good People

In those quiet moments, when I am alone, my mind races with questions, emotions, sadness.  What did I do wrong?  Did I deserve this?  Why didn't God protect us?  Why weren't my prayers answered?  Why does everyone else get what we want?...Those questions start from a negative place--inherent in them is the belief that I am not enough.  If I did more, this would not have happened to us.  If I were more perfect, everything would go the way we expected.  If God loved me, he would have answered my prayers, would have protected me from this pain.  The truth--I couldn't do more, be more perfect or pray harder.  The truth--God loves me, no matter what.  The truth--God lives in me, in my heart, in my emotions, in my pain.     

I will never have answers to those questions, at least not answers that give me any sense of personal dignity.  I want to know a loving and supportive world, one that fills my heart, takes my breath away and surprises me with the faith and trust I have kept hidden away for so long.

Bad things happen to good people.  There is no other answer.  Nothing to explain why there is injustice and pain.  It just is.  And, as I surrender to what is, and let go of the things I cannot control, the question shifts from Why do bad things happen to good people? to How do I choose to respond to this bad thing happening?. There is personal power in choice, and I choose love, acceptance, and serenity. 

***

There Is Development

My heart is growing.  Even though I am sad, and disappointed, and lost in grief, I am loved, and I am enough...and, that means I am okay, no matter what.    I feel it...the willingness to simply embrace the moment...the support from those around me...the security that it will be alright...that we will move through this.  Knowing this second Angel Baby  is not lost in solitude, but with the deepest levels of love surrounding us, blesses my healing soul with gratitude.

I have this moment.

Further readings that may also provide insight and meaning.
Do I Save It, Just In Case 
Escaping the Present Moment in Two Lines
Rabbi Kushner, An Accommodation with God, on NPR
Bouncing Back, by Karen Salmansohn

Whispering Winds

I can hear them.

The waves.  

Crashing onto shore.  

The whispering wind graces my rosy cheeks.  

I can breathe.  

Finally.

You see, this is what we gave up.  I say I gave up my job, but I didn't.  I quit my job.  I gave up vacations.  Vacations like these.  With crashing waves and whispering wind.  This is what we gave up.

My husband left his work phone at home.  At home.  On the counter.  Next to the microwave...it sits...where he always leaves it.  It can chirp to an empty house.  We are listening to the crashing waves and the whispering wind.  

Whisper.  

Crash.  

No chirps.

The laughs and giggles.  The excitement my son has for his cousins.  To play.  To run.  To enjoy.  Those laughs fill the empty space of the room, fill it with magical memories that will last a lifetime.  A lifetime of giggles and laughs.  

It's with such an open heart, one full of a new understanding of gratitude, that I accept these gifts, that we experience this vacation.  My aunt, my father's sister, has invited us here.  Paid for our tickets, our room.  To share this space, this time, these-room-filling giggles with her, her husband, and their two girls.  

I quit my job.  I gave up vacations, but I have gained family.  Family that values me for my sacrifices.  Family that sees me for who I am.  Family that loves me despite my imperfections.

Whisper.

Crash.

No criticism.  

Do you hear that?  Do you feel that? It's my heart healing.  It's my entitlement crashing.  It's my gratitude.  It's the validation I feel.  It's the relief of knowing my dad's family still loves me, even if he can't right now.  It's knowing I am worth their time, even when he says I am not worth his.  

So, you see, I gave up vacations when I quit my job.  I let go of hope of rekindling the relationship with my dad.  I gave up waiting for validation from him and I faced the sting of his rejection.  It's been a long journey to this point here.  Long.  Hurtful.  Cleansing.  

But, in the whispering wind, I can hear it.  The giggles and laughter.  In the now...in the future.  The gratitude for these moments, of the memories with my dad's sister, my lovely aunt.  The validation.  The love.  The honor.  

Having given up so much these last few years, I am now feeling it two-fold in return.  

Crash. 

Whisper.  

I can breathe.  

Finally.  

whispering winds
Otter Rock, Oregon

Other reflections that tell a bit more of the back story to this one...

Do I Save It, Just In Case?  

You're Amazing...Singing in the Shower?

I Used to Want a Car for Christmas

Come Out of the Hallway, Little Girl

A Very Special Treat

Park on the very top, Mommy.  Go up!  Go Up!  

The maze of loops.  I am lost and dizzy.  I still haven't found my perfect parking spot here.  I wonder if I will ever find it.  It feels distant.  

We find the top.  He is happy.  I am less confused.  

Sunlight and rain.  

I press the automatic door button as to avoid touching the handle and the microbials waiting to infect us.  We enter.  

Holiday music is playing.  Lights.  A frenzy of shoppers.  

We walk past the store with the woman's butt hanging out of her underwear.  It seems so provocative, so inappropriate with a three year old.  I remember when I shopped there...when I could spend fifty dollars on a bra.  Sigh.  I don't even remember the last time I bought underwear.  The sacrifices.  

picture source
when, actually, it looks like this.  

Let's go on the moving stairs, Mommy.

picture source
I'm sure, in his head, it looks like this...

We wander over to the escalator, one of the two reasons he comes here, and I hold my breath as we step on.  Flashes of his shoe getting stuck, him being swallowed by the machine, always haunt me as we ride the few seconds up or down.  It's the time of his life, standing tall and proud, he's a big boy.  I try and breathe, and not fall as we step off. 

We walk past the shops, window browse...look at the clothes, the decorations, the people.

The relief is evident, for both of us, as we merely wave to Santa.  No tortured screaming pictures today.  Santa waves back with a smile.  I wonder when he'll begin to ask why Santa is in the mall, when he should be making toys.  Not today, thank goodness.

We walk past the store with the shutters.  It's so dark in there.  I wonder how it is they can get it to smell so strong of their cologne.  Do they pump it through their air filters?  My eyes water.  

I see my destination, and he sees his.  The negotiation.  If we go to his first, I might have more time...he'll be content.  If we go to mine first, he might be impatient, but I'll have a bit more leverage.  

Mommy!  The cookie place!  

picture source

His excitement is uncontrollable, the second of the two reasons he comes here, he is drooling and pointing to his favorite. I ask the cookie lady for the grab bag of cookies.  Two M&M, one chocolate chip, one cinnamon and sugar.  The cookies are small, the size of a quarter, but with his little hands and big eyes, it's a perfect fit.  

A very special treat.  

We ride the escalator again.  It doesn't seem as thrilling this time, he's distracted with his cookie.  Face already covered in chocolate, the ring of it around his little lips.  

The local toy shop we both love, we wave hello to the manager and her husband.  Surprisingly, he doesn't want to go in today, he's distracted by his second cookie.  Sweetly, he asks for it.  

We stroll past the kiosk selling spa products...the one trying to swipe and resell my gold...the one with Angry Birds.  We stop and point.  He reminds me he loves the one that goes caw and spins back like a boomerang.  Laughter.    

Finally.  My destination.  Clearance racks.  My favorite store.  Let's see if I can wrangle the little guy, his cookies, and find any more fifty-five dollar dresses for seven bucks.  

A very special treat. 

I Used to Want a Car for Christmas...Like in those Commercials

We've all seen them.  Those commercials.  With the romantic surprise and the big red bow.

It's snowing.  There is romantic classical music playing.  Under the frosty finish, people smile, longingly at one another.  You feel all warm and fuzzy, caught mesmerized, longing for your moment to come.  You feel you need it.  The surprise.  The car.  The diamonds.  The big red bow.  The warm and fuzzy acknowledgment that someone loves you.

Remember this one?  I wonder if this one started it all, or if this was just the start of my believing it.  

That notorious Folger's coffee commercial that made so many women cry in the 80's...

This is the one that has makes me cry every time I see it.  I cry for the soldiers.  I cry for the traditions.  I cry for my own family...those moments already passing us and the ones we've missed altogether.  

These commercials, they aren't only selling their products, they're selling the moments...of love...of joy...of holiday spirit.

I used to want a car for Christmas.  Told myself if my husband loved me enough, he'd surprise me like in those commercials.

Sigh.


It is such a blessing that I can live more honestly now. It's not that I don't want the bow or the warm fuzzy moment, I really do.  But I don't want the consumption, or the lie that some external thing means I am loved.

This Christmas, is the first one, that my husband and I aren't buying anything for one another.  But you have to give each other something!   We are.  We are not buying anything for one another, but we are giving each other a lot.

We are giving the gift of time.
Time.  For the family to have a vacation.
Time.  To listen.  To share.  To not be in a rush.
Time.  To bake cookies.
Time.  To sing Jingle Bells (new words created daily...involving the word poop--thanks to our little guy!)
Time.  To visit with family and friends.
Time.  To embrace the love we share in our lives.
Time.  For those surprise moments that don't need a bow (or a hefty price tag).

You see, those moments we spend wishing we had what those commercials are offering, are the same moments we are not present to embracing the gifts we do have.  Give your loved ones the gift of you.  Give them the gift of time, of staying present to each moment.   

Healing of My Soul

WriteOnEdge writing prompt got me thinking this week.  Here is my response to the request to "take us into the moment your favorite photograph of yourself was taken, to show us who you were then and what the photograph means–in 300 words."

Moment of Creation  
(picture source)
(This photo is meant to depict the moment of creation of a soul  and a body.)

This is my favorite photo because it captures the moment my soul chose this body; acting as a mindful reminder that I have the power to choose my life, my experiences.  I chose my parents, the life I would have, the joy I would know.  I am here for my soul’s yearning to heal, meant to have the experiences I do, for some larger spiritual purpose…some larger spiritual purpose that I will not always understand, but often humbly explore, searching for meaning, enlightenment and peace. 

This is my favorite photo because it captures the idea that my son chose us as parents.  That any future children we may have will also choose us, the journey here, the healing of their souls.  I embrace the idea that my son is an old soul, full of grace, dignity, and power, he lives life to its fullest, and reminds my guarded soul to love, to feel, to explore. 

This is my favorite photo because I can find such meaning in Embracing This Moment, this moment of creation, these moments of perfection and imperfection, experienced parallel to one another.  This moment of vulnerability, the one we are both allowing right now, allowing our hearts to open, for peace to be known, I see it in this photo.  This moment. 

This is my favorite photo because I can know that my soul has healed, that the death of loved ones, the struggles and suffering, the joy and happiness, all encompass the soul, the human being that I am today.  That I am only simply a moment, at any given moment, it's all our existence allows.  That we are our purest and most authentic, in integrity and truth, in each moment…demonstrated in this photo, in the moment of my creation, when my soul choose my body. 




Won't you join me in reading some other "Photograph of Yourself" blog entries and check out Write On Edge? Enjoy...and thanks for reading and sharing.  

One of the Few, the Proud...

Me:  He really said that to you?

My Husband:  Yeah.  He asked me if I had ever killed anyone.  

Me:  What did you do?

My Husband:  I just shook my head.  Told him it was a screwed up thing to do.

It's just not what you talk about.  It's just not what you say.  Why didn't this guy get it?  This guy has romanticized being a Marine.  One of the few.  One of the proud.  He wishes he were one.  That's why he'd say something that stupid, that thoughtless, that  foolish.  

A Marine.  

My husband is a Marine.  Proud.  Tall.  One of the few.  Stood guard on the Panama Canal.  Veteran of the first Gulf War.  Fought.  Protected.  Saved.  

He and his Marine buddies get together every few years.  Share news on Facebook.  Rejoice.  Reflect.  Recalling the memories.  It's difficult to keep pace with the conversations.  The jargon. The nicknames.  The camaraderie. It's unspoken and almost impenetrable.  You can tell they survived together, risked together, grew into men together.  It's an honor to be in their company.  To know that dedication.  That bravery.  That truth.  

I'm so proud of my husband.  His honor.  His courage.  He risked his life for our country, our freedoms, our virtues.  

Just don't ever, ever, ever asked if he has killed anyone.  It's a really screwed up thing to do.  

Happy Marine Corps birthday!  (yesterday)

And, Happy Veteran's Day!  

Today, more than ever, I honor you...

Gratitude--Building a Thanksgiving Tree

the empty gratitude tree branches

Start with a branch.

I guess you can say that life can always be that simple.  To simply start with a branch.  But that's really all you need.
A gratitude tree.
A Thanksgiving Tree.
A mindset.  A tradition.  A memory.

It is important to me to build family traditions.  I didn't have many growing up, (unless you count family dysfunction as one?) so I always knew it would be a priority of mine around the holidays.  It is such a festive time of year, and well, I'm crafty, so it gets more of those creative energies going.

When I stumbled upon this idea a few years ago, I knew it would be one of our traditions.  With our relocation, this is the first year we are attempting it, and I am very excited and feel very blessed to have the opportunity to share it here.

The idea is simple.  A way to practice gratitude.  To honor Thanksgiving.


Build a gratitude tree.

Materials:
bare tree (tree branch, construction paper/felt cut out, lighted twigs)
leaves (artificial garland leaves, construction paper/felt cut out)
adhesive (glue gun, super glue, tape, wire, etc)
sharpie pen
other decorator pieces (optional)


Directions:
Over the month of November, take a moment to write down, on the leaves, at least one thing that you are grateful for each day.   

Attach the leaves onto the tree.

By the Thanksgiving holiday, you have a tree full of gratitude leaves.  Memories to look back on, to remember, to cherish.  A different mindset as you approach the busy holiday season.

So, here is our beginning...

Our chosen decor and accent pieces:

Our gratitude leaves:

The base of the tree branch is anchored with this Angel, and the decor.

 And, this, is the true beginnings of our Gratitude Thanksgiving Tree:  

All we have to do now is be grateful...to attach our leaves...and to enjoy.

Won't you all join us and build your own Gratitude Thanksgiving Trees?  Be sure to share your pictures on Embracing This Moment's facebook page.