May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face, and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
-Irish Blessing

Monday, April 18, 2011

The New Me

Before getting pregnant with Wyatt I was not a great person. I can realistically liken myself to the Grinch, green and hairy on the inside with a tiny little heart tucked way inside. Few knew their way to that place. I was not forthcoming with directions. Instead what I offered was sarcasm, anger, jealousy and judgment - all disguised as opinions, strength, and assertiveness. My heart grew as Wyatt grew within me. I had finally come to know that word. I buried some of that new heart in the ground with my firstborn sun on a bright June day almost eight years ago. I'd love to say that the part I buried was the ugly twisted and bitter part but it wasn't. That part somehow grew in the months that followed. The good part grew again as our first daughter grew within me. It grew to the point of pain almost, after her birth. I believed that Wyatt's death finally meant something because it had changed me, it had made me better.

In so many ways I did change for the better. I learned that my anger hurt me the most. I learned to let things go, something which I thought I had already learned by letting go of the most precious thing in my life. I stopped looking for the down side, stopped listing all of the things that could go wrong, that would go wrong. I didn't assume the worst in situations, or in people. I tried to be less judgmental and more accepting. I made conscious efforts to change my heart instead of letting it be changed unconsciously. I was a better person.

Of course, things change and then came Eli. During Eli's pregnancy I held fast to my faith and to who I was. I know how quickly things can change. I can see it already. I am different again. It is not what I expected. I am not burdened by waves of anger or jealousy. Tidal waves of pain hit me hard, but I've navigated those before. These changes are subtle but to me profound. I am present. I'm not just one step ahead, worried about meals, laundry, shopping and cleaning. I'm not as mechanical as I used to be. I'm breathing right now in this moment. My children's laughter sounds brighter than it ever has, their eyes reflect more color. Their voices have never been so easy to hear. I love it when they catch me staring at them. My husband has never smelled so good, his touch has never felt so warm. The gray hair at his temples was never there before, yet he's never looked so handsome. Sometimes I notice my eyes have never looked so sad.

There really isn't an ending to this because it's really just another beginning, so I'll leave it at this.

1 comment:

  1. I can totally relate to this. Even amidst all the pain of losing a child, it's amazing how much love and joy there can be. I am constantly in awe of how my perspective has changed since Ellie died.



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