Starting the blog was a great idea. It was intended to keep everyone up-to-date on Caroline’s progress. It would keep Blake from being on the phone 24 hours a day. It would give me something to occupy my time while I was in the hospital waiting for her arrival.
Here I sit with no update to provide. She is gone. Her life on earth came and went in what, now, seems like the blink of an eye. The blog still exists. Part of me wanted to end it after the memorial service. Another voice told me I would need it.
I have enjoyed sharing our latest home improvement projects-landscaping, lights. Accomplishing a task makes me smile. More than likely, Nugget and Olive will make an appearance, as they, too, evoke joy. But there is a huge part of my life I avoid mentioning. I don’t want to depress everyone by always bringing up our girls. People don't know how to respond. They don't know what to say. No one wants to “go there” because they don’t want to upset or remind me. The truth is, Finley and Caroline are ALWAYS on my mind. In avoiding them, I feel like I am denying or am ashamed of their existence. I am not. So, can’t sweep the past year of my life under a rug and pretend as if nothing happened. Something major occurred, twice. I lost 2 little girls and have been left fighting an inner battle I can no longer deny.
Initially, Blake was concerned the blog would become superficial. I might post something I did not feel just because it was the “right“ thing to say. I get that completely and know where he was coming from. Truthfully, I would love to paint a pretty picture of comfort and peace in the midst of the storm. To say that I have not felt the presence of the Lord in my life is an untruth. I have. But this journey has been difficult. It has been anything but pretty. Actually, it feels quite unflattering and at times, even scares me. My faith is being tested in ways I never imagined possible.
From where I stand, there are 2 options: Hide-And-Seek or Exposure. Option A masks the pain, question, fear, and disappointment I feel. It disconnects me from God, family and friends. Option B makes me completely vulnerable. It strips me naked, revealing the wounds and scars of this life. Oddly enough, I think the latter is what I need. The childhood game is no longer fun, not to mention, ineffective.
There were so many thoughts and emotions I held inside after losing Finley. Envy, bitterness, anger, regret, loneliness, frustration, and guilt, to name a few. Then there was the shame I felt in feeling the way I did. Seeing a pregnant woman made me cringe. Learning that someone else was expecting a child made me nauseated. The sound of an infant in church made me want to run out screaming and crying. What was my problem? Who was this person I had become? How could a Christian feel this way? I felt ugly, hateful, mean…evil.
Since losing Caroline, the pain has deepened. The horrid thoughts I mentioned above, have started to resurface. I am grateful they are not as strong, but they are here, nonetheless. I am fighting it with all of my might but at times it seems I am losing the battle. My wounds are open and I am weak.
On multiple occasions, I have been encouraged to write. I have avoided doing so because I am no good at it. I have never been one to keep a diary or a journal. It is awkward for me to sit and spill my emotions on paper. I tried it during my pregnancy with Finley. It was fun until I went into labor on April 3rd. That was the end of journaling for a while. Then, I decided to “finish the story” on what would have been her due date, August 16th 2007. After 6 hours and multiple breaks, I had managed to write 20+ pages. At times, I cried so hard I thought I would pass out. As horrible as that may sound, it was helpful to let it all go. There was healing in doing so. I don’t dare attempt to read that journal now. It is too much to bear. It would be like pouring salt on fresh wounds. No thanks.
I bought a new journal within days of learning I was pregnant with Caroline. At first, I thought I had the strength to write again. This pregnancy would be different. However, I never allowed myself to sit and put it on paper. The journal still lays in the floor, blank, empty. The details of her life in my womb have already started to fade. I will never get them back. I was too scared to write. What if the outcome turned out to be the same as before?
Is sharing all of this with the world a good idea? I don’t know. I am pretty sure the world won’t be reading this so I am safe in that regard. What I do know is I have been comforted in the words of others. It is reassuring to know I am not alone in this journey of grief. Probably sounds trite but it is very true. For the past year, I have been following the blogs of families walking a similar path. While their stories are different than mine, they know the loss of a child. They know what it is like to be in a pit of despair so deep that you don’t even recognize yourself. Their emotions mirror mine and that provides a sense of relief. I am NOT crazy. I am NOT evil. I am grateful someone else was willing to share because it has helped me in ways I cannot describe.
I am choosing Option B. I need to be vulnerable so I can experience true healing, spiritually and emotionally. I want a deeper relationship with my Heavenly Father. We have been "dating" too long. As Tim Woodroof so eloquently described it to me, I have settled for a life on the first floor. There is level, above, on which I have not allowed myself to go. I could keep "control" on the first floor. I want to take the next step and experience 2nd floor living. Am I willing to move into a marriage relationship with God? Will I give him control? What option do I have? Clearly, my plans are not working out. So, I am ready to try. In sharing, I am forced to go deeper. This may be weird to some folks. It is to me. It is to Blake. But, I feel "lead" to do it this way so I will follow. I won't even attempt to figure out where it will take me.
Daddy Daughter Dance
2 years ago