Happy New Year?

Yes, that's a question mark at the end of my title.  It's just the way I feel today.  Questioning. 

 

I can say that I want this to be a happy year, but what steps can I take to make sure that it happens?  This keeps lingering in my mind.  And I still don't have any answers.

 

I think that my vow to try and tackle each day living in the present is a good start, but not completely realistic.  Maybe a better statement would be to say that I'll try and live each day in the present, while still acknowledging that past events have shaped my present and future events will propel me through it?  Does this understanding keep me from living my resolution?

 

I've been trying not to dwell on our loss.  For the most part, I feel like I'm handling everything well.  I make it through each day relatively unemotional about it.  However, the days when those emotions show up, they hit me from behind with no warning.  They make me feel like I'm alone.  They make me feel like I should give up on being a mother.  Occasionally they make me feel like I should just give up.  (Fortunately this feeling never sticks around for long.) 

 

Something hit me from behind yesterday.  Robert was asking me about a screen name that I use and he wanted to know why it included the numbers 330.  I looked at him and said, because that was our due date - don't you remember?  Then he said that he hasn't thought about it since then.

 

I just don't understand that.  I mean, I'm not thinking it about it every second, but it's certainly on my mind constantly.  And I feel like that will become more frequent until we get past that day.  How can he not think about it?

 

Does it mean that he's not as upset as I am?  Or that I'm overly upset?  Maybe it means that he doesn't really care about our trying to conceive again? 

 

No.

 

It doesn't.

 

I know that, but my emotions take control and I second guess every comment and action for the next several days.  (Hey - you knew that I was a control freak and by nature that makes us worriers!)

 

These are the things that I'm learning to let go of.  He's not me.  He's not required to think/feel/act like I would. 

 

At the same time, I feel a little sad that he's not thinking about what we had for that short amount of time and what would have been - especially as we pass each date that would have been significant in our pregnancy.

 

I think that's why I feel like I need to edit my final New Year's resolution:  I'll try and live each day in the present, while still acknowledging that past events have shaped my present and future events will propel me through it.

 

Here's a poem that one of my friends shared recently.  (We wear the same shoes.)

 

"A Pair of Shoes"

I am wearing a pair of shoes.

They are ugly shoes.

Uncomfortable shoes.

I hate my shoes.

Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.

Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.

Yet, I continue to wear them.

I get funny looks wearing these shoes.

They are looks of sympathy.

I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.

They never talk about my shoes.

To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.

To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.

But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.

I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.

There are many pairs in this world.

Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.

Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.

Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.

No woman deserves to wear these shoes.

Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.

These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.

They have made me who I am.

I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

Author unknown