Things have been crazy around here. Last week I was nursing sick kids back to health (nothing serious – just the sniffles and the crankies). We had old friends over for dinner last Friday. It was our first time entertaining in our new home, and it went well. Then on Saturday we went to another set of friends’ house and were treated to grilled kebabs over there. On Sunday we set off for a road trip after Mass to see some good friends and to meet their newest addition – an entirely edible 3-month-old. I actually held two different babies this past weekend and only got weepy once.
I’ve been stuffing my face with good food: tortilla espanola, big salads, fish tacos, crispy pizza topped with artichokes and kalamata olives. But I’ve been moving a lot, too. Not to compensate (although I’m sure it’s helped keep the olives and cheese from settling on my thighs). Long walks are therapeutic, and I’m trying to run here and there despite – I’m stubborn like that – a doc’s recent suggestion that I stick to cross training (a shot of cortisone in the bum, physical therapy, and a heel lift have still not cured me from chronic hip and hamstring pain in my right leg due to a leg length difference). I’m not punishing myself though. Not like I used to. No purgative measures – just gentle, loving self-care. Something I need right now. A slight burn of the lungs, hearing the quickening thump of my heart in my chest, the ripple of a leg muscle as I lengthen my stride – all physical reminders that I am alive and well.
I don’t have anything eloquent to say right now, but I had to pop in here to say a big thanks for the outpouring of support I received after I shared about our family’s recent loss. I wrote about my miscarriage because it was healing to do so, but I could not have anticipated just how healing it would be thanks to the many readers who left comments, sent emails or Facebook messages, or contacted me via Twitter. (And so many thanks to my in-real-life friends for their cards and kindness; I am truly blessed). I wish I had the time to thank each and every one of you personally for your kindness, your prayers, and some of the encouraging insight you offered from your own experiences with losing babies to miscarriage. I do hope to write something about healing from a miscarriage down the road and to include some of your helpful and gentle suggestions. It seemed like every time I checked my email, there was a kind note or comment from someone that lifted me up just when I needed it.
Because of your comments I am discerning a name for our little one. Madeline wants to have a name for her sister (since we only know girls around here, we keep calling our lost one a girl). I want a way to remember her/him and to talk to him/her. I want this child be remain real. I want to keep him or her close so that one day, God willing, I’ll recognize him or her in Heaven.
One friend wrote me an email and shared that her two miscarriages taught her and her husband many things, including she wrote, “how very much God loves us by placing comforting, loving, caring, and generous people in our lives to love us through difficult times.” I’ve learned this, too, now as well as in the wake of every single sorrow I’ve ever had to face in my lifetime. When I suffered the malady of a broken heart in my early twenties, my younger brother took me in and let me cry at the foot of his bed (we went to the same college). The two friends we just visited were dating at the time and invited me as the third wheel on all their dates so I’d still have a social life.
When one of my best friends found out I was struggling with the baby blues, she showed up at my house with a salad and a bottle of wine and good conversation.
When I lost my papa, close friends called and sent sympathy cards.
Even after just a lousy day where I burn my finger or a child heaves all over me, I’m reminded how damn lucky I am and how God reaches me through the people – some good friends and some strangers – who see a need and fill it.
When I’m bleeding, there is always someone close by to step forward and to put pressure on my wound. When I’m weeping, God’s hand sweeps my tears away through a gentle caress from my husband or my mom or the prayer of a stranger. When I’m taking myself too seriously, a friend cracks a joke and helps to lighten things up. When I feel sad and alone, I’m reminded that I may be sad, but I’m most definitely not alone. This is what all of you did for me. You were balm to a hurting soul. You were light for someone who was wandering along in darkness. And I’m so very grateful.
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Now here are my blogging plans for the next few weeks:
I have part 2 of my Parenting By the Book post scheduled and another post in the works, but after that I may be posting some recycled reruns. My manuscript deadline for that little thing called a book is November 1st and I really need to focus on the process of revising (and not second guessing every stinkin’ word I’ve put down). Thanks for your patience.
That last paragraph ("When I'm bleeding….") – beautiful!
Kate,
I know you didn't ask for input on your the name for your baby, but I thought I would share our solution. We have used double names to solve the problem of is it a boy or girl. Our babies in heaven are Benedict-Scholastica, Joseph-Mary, Dominic-Maria, Francis-Claire, Daniel-Marianna, and Zechariah-Elizabeth. I sort of feel like they are our own little religious order in heaven sending out their prayers.
Carol, thank you for this suggestion. It's exactly what we've been thinking of doing. And I'm so sorry for all those babies you've lost. You certainly have a "great cloud of witnesses" waiting for you in heaven.
God bless you.