Friday, April 8, 2011
As I'm sitting here, writing, it has occurred to me that its been about a year since I began this blog journey. I want to thank all of you who have supported me along the way. Thank you for taking the time to read some very real thoughts, regarding losses in my life. Thank you for your kind words and encouragement. It means a lot to me!
Going forward, I want to shift my focus toward more present day circumstances, and also toward the future. Our past is what it is. I feel that I've done the best that I could to present that in a way that would be honoring, and not overtly negative or 'a downer'. But now its time to move ahead. For those who are new to my story, here is a quick recap of where I've been and where I am now:
Last spring brought me through a season of depression that began in April, lasting until the end of June. I didn't see it coming. It started out with physical manifestations of anxiety: tightness in the chest, the feeling that something big was coming...but what it was, I didn't know, at the time. I began to realize the time of year that it was and the important dates that were coming: my son's birthday, Mother's Day, my daughter's birthday, then mom's anniversary. It began to make sense. I wasn't developing asthma,(which is how it felt most of the time), I was grieving, again.
Long story short, there was nothing seriously wrong with me, in medical terms. My body was trying to process these emotions out. It's rather strange when this happens without being consciously aware of it. These symptoms were present, and I wasn't thinking much about anything stressful, let alone my mom and her passing. But our minds and bodies are connected in such a way that everything works together. If I wasn't yet ready to deal with it mentally, I guess my body would find another way to get rid of the sadness.
When I look back on all that has happened, I am so glad that I was on 'emotional Novocaine' at the time. I'm trying to get my head around the scenario: my mom is diagnosed with cancer, shortly before I carried my son. She is still recovering, when he is born. Then it appears that she will make it, when he is about 5 months old...only to have a relapse and more cancer, 1 month later. She goes through intense treatments, radiation therapy, her body trying desperately to hold up under the pressures. Meanwhile, life continues to go on. I eventually carry my daughter, only to find out days before her delivery that my mom is terminally ill. There was nothing more, short of a miracle, that could be done. She meets our second child, and then passes away when my daughter was 4 weeks old, my son age two. What a whirlwind it was, and has been.
There was no way, physically speaking, that I could grieve what had happened until recently. My deliveries were both C-sections, my kids 2 years apart. You can imagine how much I needed my mom to be there for me...how much I had wanted her to be more connected to me, years before this season of parenthood began. Not that I didn't have support elsewhere, with amazing family and friends, but there is something about a mother and daughter that is special. I was so looking forward to redeeming that time, for us, with my own children coming into the world. But it was not meant to be. I may not know, until eternity, the answer to the question: why? But I trust the sovereignty of God in matters like these. I want to know God better, not run away further. So I choose to live, no matter how hard it can be at times.
I started this blog as a means to process out my emotions, my thoughts about what I was going through. It has served me well in that regard. The beauty of having this outlet is the transparency it lends to the lives of other people, who may very well find themselves in a similar situation. It is my hope that the pain our lives bring may not be wasted, but recycled into something beautiful...and useful.
Today, I am in another season of grief. I have experienced the physical affects, once again, although they are somewhat different this time around. I cry easily when watching sad movies--yes, even kids' movies! I've had 'heart flutters', tightness in the chest, and the general malaise that is associated with feeling depressed: kind of like you're walking around in fog, not able to think clearly or enjoy life.
It is not much fun. But what is different this time is I'm doing something about it. I've decided to start therapy(*applause*). I had my first session this week and to my surprise, I cried a lot. I guess that's what you do when you go to a session! No, but seriously, I'm glad to be moving in this direction. I'm keeping an open mind to the options I have for getting better. My goal is to have happy memories of my mom, and be present as the best mom I can be...the best woman that God has created me to be. I need to do that for my family, and for myself. I don't want to miss out on living life to its fullest. A friend once said, 'Choose to be better, not bitter.' So true.
Again, thank you, readers and listeners! May you live each day, reflecting the love that has been given to you. Mom, if you are listening, I love you and look forward to seeing you again someday.