living after the death of a baby, living with Autism, living as a family of six, living on our organic homestead, living miserably, hopefully, and with joy, and somedays just living

Posts tagged ‘love’

Living A Romance, Not With A Romantic

I am lucky, I really am, I have this amazing husband, but if there’s one thing he’s not, it’s romantic.   Seriously, we don’t celebrate Valentines Day, or our Anniversary in any sentimental way.  We’re too practical.

I know a friend who flew to Vancouver secretly, there and back in a day,  so he could present his bride with a blue Tiffany’s box on their wedding day.  I dream of stuff like this, but it’s not the stuff that Kyle is made up of.  Heck if we get in a big argument there aren’t even flowers when he gets home.  I can’t actually remember the last time I got flowers, it was either for my Anniversary, or Micah’s birth, but not both.  Even his flower choices are always practical, mixed bouquets because they last the longest, and cost less than roses.

When I was pregnant there was no way he’d ever make a craving run, and there was no sparkly present from a small box when I delivered our babies.  He is not with out his romantic gestures, while dating I did get a whole pile of roses once, and for our tenth anniversary I did get sapphires, though I really wanted a Parisian vacation, the sapphires where a delightful surprise.

He’s not a man of grand gestures, or public displays of affection, nor though, is he a burly man’s man. It’s just really easy for us to get caught up in the daily task of parenting, and forget that we are also a married couple.  Our needs take second place to those of our children.  We’re also in the thickest, most time intensive part of parenting.  Currently we have 4 kids, 5 and under.  It will ease over time and there will be more time for us, as our kids become more independent.  For now though, we can go a whole day without stopping to hug or kiss each other.

And despite all of this, despite, my wish for the husband strait out of a romantic comedy.  I believe I have a love greater than most.  I never worry that our love will fade, or that we may not make it.  I know we are solid.  In talking with some other women, many have  spoken of the relief of having their spouses go to work,  and on those blissful business trips.   Life is easier when he isn’t around for short spells some feel.   I, on the other hand, would prefer to have my husband home with me everyday.  I get the driving you crazy because he does things differently than me bit, because we have that same issue, but I still would rather look up from my incorrectly made lunch and see him across the table.

There was a time when we would languish in each others arms on the sofa for hours, and wake up with our bodies tangled together.  Now there are only brief moments on the couch together, and we never wake up  pressed against each other like two spoons, because some small person is invariably in between us.

We have been through some terrible things, things that split marriages apart for others.  We met at 17 and 19, and married young at barely 20 and 21.  We made it through living well below the poverty line while Kyle finished grad school, we came out the other side after the death of a child, we’ve dealt with stressful family dramas, we overcame an international move (twice), and we continue to persevere while parenting a sparkling boy with Autism, even though we believe very different things about the cause of it, and have had serious head butting issues on how best to treat it, and parent for it.

We’ve taken on each of these challenges as they come, one at at time.  We’ve faced each of them, we use them to strengthen our commitment to each other, and to love regardless of how empty life can seem.   We haven’t allowed the wedge, that can be driven between people, get to deep between us.  It sneaks in some times, and it can be difficult to remove, but we do.  The greatest part is, it’s a joint effort, we pull each other together, each of us, equality.

I know I am loved a great, deep and meaningful love, and that is an immense gift.  I live a, not always so happily ever after, fairytale romance.

Thank you Kyle for loving me, ever flawed, never perfect, but always in love with you.

It’s Okay Not To Be Okay

I know that you read my blog.  I have so much I want to tell you, but mostly I wish I could hug and comfort you.  I have never been through what you are going through right now, so I won’t preach that I know what you’re going through, I don’t, but I know what it’s like to hurt.

Mostly I want you to know that life is lived forward and reflected on backward, some day in the future you’re going to look back and think: I made it through.  You’ll likely even find that it was character building, and that you  gained something from the experience.  But there is nothing worse, than going through a miserable patch only to be consoled by future promises.  How can you live today, and even the not so distant tomorrow, if you’re always reaching for next year when it won’t be so bad?  Life throws punches that leave you winded, you can’t suck it up, because you can’t breath.  Go ahead be emotionally injured, you’ve been hurt, it continues to hurt.

We are purposed to experience pain, it’s the only way we can love, and enjoy happiness.  With nothing to contrast against the best in life, there is no pendulum up swing.  When you hurt, it’s okay to hurt.  It’s okay to cry, it’s okay to be miserable for a while.  Being sad doesn’t mean giving up happiness, it means you’re sad, sometimes we are sad for a while.  It means the pendulum is headed in it’s backwards motion.  Grieving isn’t just for when people die, it’s when something that existed, or was meant to exists, is no longer possible, or no longer is.   Sometimes we have a say, sometimes we don’t, and even if the choice was yours, it doesn’t mean it’s not supposed to hurt.

I don’t know your whole story, but I know it’s difficult right now, I’m always here to lend an ear.  I know you’re hurt, sad, angry, and questioning it all.  As long as you don’t get stuck there, as long as you don’t make it who you are, it’s okay not to pretend everything is okay, or to hide it well.   I’m confident you won’t get stuck, it seems you have good people.  I’m glad you do, I’m glad you think I can be one of them. See you in 2011 oxoxo

Because of Her

Our lit candle

I have no idea how many candles have been lit tonight because of Katie. I don’t think there is a way to know, but I do know it’s more than I thought. There are all of those from the comment section in my last post Light it up, but the word of mouth numbers I can’t count.  Everyone (well nearly) is on Facebook these days, and most people I know had some sort of message about lighting a candle tonight.  Some from people I didn’t expect, many from people who have never lost a baby.  And from the comments of friends posts were friends of theirs who vowed to light candles as well.  How lovely.

I think the most rewarding consequence of having a baby who died, is the community I have of friends who have shared their losses with me.  A sadness shared makes for a lighter heart, I think.  I know of three more people who share my sadness now because of my Facebook posts about October being baby loss awareness month.  I can’t tell you how honored I am to hold your children in my heart with Katie.

Today could have been a terrible day, full of tears, instead it was beautiful, I felt supported and truly loved.  Today was beautiful.

My good friend Tricia, who’s Sons Ryan and Joshua also died the same year as Katie, wrote this to me tonight

Remembering Katie with you tonight and although I wish we had no reason to know one another and that our sweet angels were here with us I am so thankful she brought you into my life. ((Hugs))

And I feel exactly the same .  The people I know because of Katie are special indeed.  They held me up when there was no strength left for me to hold myself up.  They wiped away tears, gave me a safe place to laugh again, and brought me back from a place where no light shined.  They are the women of AAHH/OATH, Parent Care and those who share their stories with me.  Because of her I have friendships of great meaning and substance.  Because of her I am more compassionate to those who grieve.  Because of her I love more deeply.  Thank you Katie.

Stillborn

I carried you in hope,
the long nine months of my term,
remembered that close hour when we made you,
often felt you kick and move
as slowly you grew within me,
wondered what you would look like
when your wet head emerged,
girl or boy, and at what glad moment
I should hear your birth cry,
and I welcoming you
with all you needed of warmth and food;
we had a home waiting for you.
After my strong labourings,
sweat cooled on my limbs,
my small cries merging with the summer air,
you came. You did not cry.
You did not breathe.
We had not expected this;
it seems your birth had no meaning,
Or had you rejected us?
They will say that you did not live,
register you as stillborn.
but you lived for me all that time
in the dark chamber of my womb,
and when I think of you now,
perfect in your little death,
I know that for me you are born still;
I shall carry you with me forever,
my child, you were always mine,
you are mine now.
Death and life are the same mysteries

Lenonard Clark