I feel like I’ve inhabited a sort of twilight zone the past couple of weeks. Some place closer to fantasy land than reality. I’ve felt removed from our current situation, as though this pregnancy is just like my last two. In all honesty, I haven’t even cried much. The best way I could describe it to myself, or anyone else, is a weird, eerie-feeling state of denial. My sister-in-law so divinely sent John and me a text tonight that summed it all up perfectly. She said that “this honeymoon period must be such a blessing yet seem like such deceit”. When I read it, all of the pieces fell together, and I was SO thankful that SOMEONE could finally describe to me what I’d been feeling so much of lately. It has felt like a blissful, dream-like time- just like a honeymoon. And then, as the reality has begun to creep back in to my life the past couple of days, the deceit of that time has become overwhelming. How can I go a day not realizing the gravity of this life we are now living? How can I not spend every moment soaking up this time with our son, since I won’t have as many moments as I would have liked? Why don’t I talk to him more? How can I feel so normal and when it is all the furthest from normal that I could fathom? All of this because none of it feels REAL! I’ve been living in a fool’s paradise… ignorant to the reality that will come to fruition in a few short months. And then, it will be too late to enjoy him. To cherish every single moment that his heart beats. I think that’s why these feelings have been so unnerving; because deep down, below any conscience level, I know that I’m wasting time. Precious, priceless time.
And that’s where the difficult part comes… I have to make an effort, every chance I can, to register this reality, and take full advantage of what time we have with Ethan. I must remember that, come winter time, we will be saying goodbye to our little gift from God. I do this in order to know, for the rest of my life, that I made the most of the time that I had with him. I need to, but I don’t want to- if only for selfish reasons- I know it will hurt. I’m so exhausted from hurting. I’m heartbroken for the hurt that my children have to witness. I know my sweet little girl just wants to normalcy in her life- she’s ready for the “sadness to go away”. *sigh* I can’t say it enough, though. Your prayers have worked wonders in the lives of us all. Perhaps that last two weeks have been an answered prayer, to get a break from the constant heartache that seemed to plague me. However bewildering it may have been, I trust that it’s part of the “process” and believe with all of my heart that it’s part of The Plan!
Today marks 3 months since my daddy left us. I miss him more than I’ve ever imagined missing anyone. Our lives were forever changed that day, and we will carry it with us for the rest of our lives. We can talk about him now without sobbing, though it’s not always easy. Thinking about all of the things he won’t be here for is one of the hardest things to process. The birthdays, the trips, the holidays, and the little moments of learning to swim, karate belts, and Sunday lunches. I wish that he could be here with us, to help us through this journey we are on. He was always the one I would seek for guidance and advise, and he undoubtedly knew what to say. Even as I type it, I can see where a great opportunity for growth is staring me in the face. To seek Him for guidance and advise, as He is the first One I should have gone to all along.
My dear friend had this bracelet made for me and, ironically enough, gifted it to me today. It is a duplicate copy of my dad’s handwriting from my 30th birthday card. His nickname for me, for as long as I can remember, has always been Little (Lil) Bity. I’m so grateful to be able to carry this with me every day, as a beautiful reminder of who I was to him, and of his love for me. Shasta… “thank you” isn’t enough!
Every time I’ve gotten the urge to begin writing, I come up blank. And even now, wonder if there is any point to what I’ve said. But I’ll continue, although perhaps with less frequency, because it’s a journey I want to record- if only for myself.