It seems fate tries to punctuate those important days with what s/he must think is an exclamation point. Un/Fortunately, I have pretty much removed all surprise and amazement from my life, have learned to accept the possibility that ANYTHING can happen, and I just see yesterday as another comma in a rather long run-on sentence (much like this one).
Was it supposed to be funny that Alex's headstone was placed yesterday? Exactly five months after he was stillborn? That's sick, not funny. Was I really supposed to be impressed with the overly happy woman who called and left us a voicemail to tell us it had been set and we could "go take a look if we wanted?" Was the whole day...the whole exercise in raw emotion...supposed to bring me peace? Guess what? It didn't.
And despite our best attempts to discuss it, the future appears cloudy or hazy on a good day...and just plain dark on a bad one.
So here we are, with a big old rock with our dead kid's name on it, and no idea where we go from here...five months later. I am not a happy camper.
But today I figured out how to brighten the screen on my laptop when it's running on a battery...I did a load of laundry and washed the dishes...there was cold pizza for breakfast...there will be pork chops for dinner...I have one living son and a husband I adore...and I think the "puppy" and I have reached an understanding about her biting me. Not too bad.
It doesn't make up for that big rock with our kid's name on it, but I guess it will have to do for today.
I had a good day by myself the other day too, considering I spent it contemplating the meaning of life and all that crap. (Sorry I missed your call Julie.) The lake was windy and cold...but beautiful (that's Lake Erie, Jill, on the North shore of the great state of Ohio...not too far from lauralu and justinian and David). I marvelled at the sheer power of it all, life and death and the forces of nature that we can't control.
It was kind of funny that as I was having this inner conversation with the universe, these guys in hard hats drove their backhoe down onto the beach and started moving these giant boulders around, presumably in an effort to stop erosion from eating away the shoreline down by a relatively nice motel. I sat and watched them, three men that I would normally qualify as big guys, fighting the unwinnable fight against the power of the water and the wind and the tides governed by the moon. I admired their belief that they could somehow influence the forces of nature...but I also laughed that knowing laugh of someone who's been beaten at that game.
I walked the shoreline down to a bridge where, as illustrated in my photos, Jodi's love had obviously returned since 12-2-94 to revoke his/her grand statement carved thereon. It made me smile, and it made me sad. They had obviously, on that day, been so in love that they had planned to spend forever together. I wonder what happened to change their plans.
I saw the place where the water flows into the lake. It was strange, seeing the water flowing out into the waves that were crashing in. Despite the opposition in flow, the water just kept going, in both directions. It was oddly therapeutic to watch it...to see the natural combination of opposing forces. To the one side of the bridge was the river. Looking at it, you wouldn't even know it was flowing. But to the other side was the spot where the waters joined, even when it appeared they were fighting for direction.
I want a baby.
Do I even bother to plan? Do I dare to try?
The thing is, I'm not infertile. Never have been. I don't have the issues that a lot of other women have. I had a decent pregnancy with Sam. I had a picture perfect pregnancy with Alex...up until the end. So I will have to live through the entire next pregnancy wondering. Everything can measure perfectly, everything can sound perfect, everything can feel perfect...and your heart can be crushed and your dreams stolen by a tiny bacteria. I know the doctors will do their best the next time, but there is no trust left in me...no belief...no faith. There are no guarantees or promises.
I want a baby, but I'm terrified of losing again.
I know some people who say, "Whatever happens...happens." And that's great to say, when we're talking about OTHER people. But how do I protect MY heart? How do I create a baby that I want more than anything but not get too attached until it is actually born? I'm afraid that after losing Alex I will be even MORE attached to a baby in my belly...not less. More than anything I want that joy and expectation again. And I want that love.
I'm just not ready to go back and scratch my name off the bridge if I have to.