Tonight I cried. I haven't cried for about 3 days in a row. It may be possible due to me being kidnapped for the weekend.
Saturday morning I went garage-selling with my in-laws. I knew I had prior plans with two friends form work to also scrapbook later in the day, but I just didn't want to sit around all morning waiting for our little get-together. When I got home, all my scrap booking items were already packed. I thought that was strange that my husband had already done that for me ahead of time, especially since he never wants me to go; he misses me. What was even stranger though, was my toothbrush, deodorant and toothpaste were missing from my bathroom drawer. It was in our closet in our bedroom. Now why would I put that there? Simple.... I wouldn't. My husband just gave me the "husband look" and said "I don't know" when I asked him how it got there. I just assumed it was our little guy rearranging the house again.
As I was about to leave to go to my friend's house, my doorbell rang. It was both of my friends who I was going to see! I was so surprised! I was really confused as well. I turned around to look at my husband and he was standing there with my bags and said "have fun, see you tomorrow". My girlfriends kidnapped me. Apparently, Saturday was dubbed National Scrapbooking Day. We stayed at a really nice hotel in Maple Grove, went to Archiver's (thee best scrap booking store EVER), ate at Buca's and laughed at the naughty pop-culture portraits hanging in the ladies bathroom, went swimming, and then stayed up all night scrap booking. I was exhausted, but I didn't want it to end.
In the morning, we went shopping again for more scrap booking items. What else would we do? We then went to the Chocolate Factory. YUM! I finally had my first chocolate made with chile powder. Ever watch the movie Chocolat, starring the all-delicious himself, Johnny Depp. I never knew spicy chile mixed with decadent chocolate could make such a married match of perfection and pure indulgence. I need more...not want....need...
The surprised didn't stop there. Not only had my husband been planning this scrap booking getaway (his own idea), but when I arrived home Sunday afternoon he had seven trees planted in our sad and bare yard; 4 maples and 3 elms. I am so proud of him! I feel so loved to have him as my husband; he truly does care and think of little things. Although, I am worried now of how I am going to top this and out-do him someday. This might take more than a year of thinking.
Even though I had a lot of fun this weekend, I couldn't help but to feel empty. I tried my best to be my normal, quirky, and sometimes obnoxious self that people like so much. Seems like that's why people want to be around me; I can make them laugh.
I love to scrapbook, but my main focus was to scrapbook our ultrasound pictures of Baby Elijah taken on April 1st. As I shopped, my next favorite hobby, I was trying my best to stay away from baby-themed items that involved "baby's firsts". I know that Elijah may not have very many "firsts", if any at all. I bought a smaller scrapbook, small enough to only fit one picture on each page. I was able to finish 3 pages, until I had to move on to finish a page for Paighton instead.
As I stood there in Archiver's, looking at the wall of empty books, some with fill-in pages for baby's "firsts", I felt my eyes starting to swell again. I didn't want to cry, not then, not now. I couldn't help to think that I am never going to be able to fill in those empty lines for the wonderful milestones Elijah is never going to have. I felt as empty as the pages. I wanted to come unglued; rip all the books off the shelf in a violent hurricane of hate and sadness. I wanted to scream as loud as I could until my voice would allow no more. I really needed my husband at that point...
I didn't want to be a downer on this very special trip that my husband and friends had put so much work and thought into. This was supposed to make me happy; and although it did, I just had to put my wall up. The wall I put up whenever I feel the need to protect myself and my emotions. My wall is my worst enemy.
Later that evening when I was looking at Elijah, a vague black and white, two-dimensional picture of my love, I felt my hurricane swirling again. I clenched down on my teeth, tried to swallow the lump that was hardening in my throat, and pushed forward. I didn't even shed a tear even though I could see the swell in my eyes. It was beginning to blur my vision. I didn't want to cry in front of my friends, or worse yet, drop tears on what could be the only pictures I may ever get of Elijah.
I think that sometimes when people hold their own walls up for too long, they don't just come down eventually. The wall comes crashing down in a huge matter that creates chaos, confusion, and just a plain mess. If we didn't work so hard to put up our wall each and every time in crumbles to the ground, it wouldn't hurt as bad. Why do I self-sabotage?
Like I said before, my wall is my worst enemy. It is being built stronger and tougher as the days go by because I do not want to face reality; reality of Elijah dying. Yet my walls are infamous of keeping others out of my life as well. I do not like to get hurt; you cross me once and that wall flies up so fast you'd think it was built on a catapult. I am not trying to say I am an unforgiving person; I am, it just takes a little while. I grew up in a certain way where I have become untrusting of the human population. I am very naive and fall into traps that have not only put my reputation of a good person at risk, but also my life. I love people, maybe a bit too much. There is so much evil out there in the world, and even more disguises.
If I could build a wall to keep out all the people I know, with the exception of my husband and son, knowing that is the only way to save Elijah and live with him forever, I would. No question. I am sorry Mom and Dad, and everyone else whom I love very much, but I would do anything at this point if I knew it would guarantee Elijah's life. He is my son. I do not want him to leave me so early. I do not want him to leave me.... ever.
If I knew he would stay alive forever, pregnant with him, I would bear all the horrible things of pregnancy. Just to know he is alive, comfortable and content; ever so innocent. I would take on morning sickness every minute of every day for the rest of my natural life. We could go "home" together then.
I am in my second week now of being back at work. I am glad to be back, but it certainly is tough. I have to carry my wall around with me. There isn't anything about work that it hard, it actually helps take my mind away from reality and into something productive. The hard part is when I stop. I stop to think about non-work stuff. My mind stalls and I have a hard time jump starting it again. I start to think about how fragile life is; that at any second, any one around me could die including myself. I start to think what would happen if I started to miscarry at work. Would I feel embarrassed? How would people react; and then act when I came back a couple months later? I also think about consequences. I know that seems strange, but just think. Without consequences the world could be a very chaotic place. That is how my mind feels right now. What if I unleashed my hurricane and stomped on my keyboard? Or the next time I went to the bathroom, I punched the mirror in front of me; an ugly image of a failed mother and flawed human starring back at me. I know there would be consequences; not just embarrassment, shame, and physical harm but HR type of consequences. It isn't until someone needs help, or has a question about work does my mind snap back and re-focus on work.
I keep hearing and reading from people that with this experience, I will come out a stronger and better person. How? The only result I can see is me being a very cold and bitter crab apple. Someone who not only didn't trust people, but doesn't trust herself or God after this. How is one to grieve and live on? How do people even think about having more babies after losing one? The pain is so intense, I cannot even begin to explain.
Right now I feel like I have my highest ever made wall, up for good. I only hope that with Elijah's birth, he may live long enough that my wall comes down. It will be the biggest mess one will ever hold witness to, but it may grant me the stepping stones to walk across the mess to a much brighter ans happier side of life. I hope that no matter what kind of break down I may have, that my friends and family are on the other side waiting for me. I hope I am not abandoned.
I feel alone...abandoned right now...
Maybe because I am the only one hiding behind my selfish wall...
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Any life run on self-will can hardly be a success. On that basis we are almost always in collision with something or somebody, even though our motives are good. Most people try to live by self-propul sion. Each person is like an actor who wants to run the whole show; is forever trying to arrange the lights, the ballet, the scenery and the rest of the players in his own way. If his arrangements would only stay put, if only people would do as he wished, the show would be great. Everybody, including himself, would be pleased. Life would be wonderful. In trying to make these arrangements our actor may sometimes be quite virtuous. He may be kind, considerate, patient, generous; even modest and self-s acrificing. On the other hand, he may be mean, egotistical, selfish and dishonest. But, as with most humans, he is more likely to have varied traits.
What usually happens? The show doesn't come off very well. He begins to think life doesn't treat him right. He decides to exert himself more. He becomes, on the next occasion, still more demanding or gracious, as the case may be. Still the play does not suit him. Admitting he may be somewhat at fault, he is sure that other people are more to blame. He becomes angry, indignant, self-pitying. What is his basic trouble? Is he not really a self-seeker even when trying to be kind? Is he not a victim of the delusion that he can wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this world if he only manages well? Is it not evident to all the rest of the players that these are the things he wants? And do not his actions make each of them wish to retaliate, snatching all they can get out of the show? Is he not, even in his best moments, a producer of confusion rather than harmony?
Our actor is self-centered, ego-centric, as people like to call it nowadays. He is like the retired business man who lolls in the Florida sunshine in the winter complaining of the sad state of the nation; the minister who sighs over the sins of the twentieth century; politicians and reformers who are sure all would be Utopia if the rest of the world would only behave; the outlaw safe cracker who thinks society has wronged him; and who has lost all. Whatever our protestations, are not most of us concerned with ourselves, our resentments, or our self-pity?
Selfishness, self-centeredness! That, we think, is the root of our troubles. Driven by a hundred forms of fear, self-delusion, self-seeking, and self-pity, we step on the toes of our fellows and they retaliate. Sometimes they hurt us, seemingly without provocation, but we invariably find that at some time in the past we have made decisions based on self which later placed us in a position to be hurt.
So our troubles, we think, are basically of our own making. They arise out of ourselves, and the selfishness is an extreme example of self-will run riot, though he usually doesn't think so. Above everything, we must be rid of this selfishness. We must, or it kill us! God makes that possible. And there often seems no way of entirely getting rid of self without His aid. Many of us have moral and philosophical convictions galore, but we could not live up to them even though we would have liked to. Neither could we reduce our self-centeredness much by wishing or trying on our own power. We had to have God's help.
This is the how and the why of it. First of all, we had to quit playing God. It didn't work. Next, we decided that hereafter in this drama of life, God was going to be our Director. He is the Principal; we are His agents. He is the Father, and we a re His children. Most Good ideas are simple, and this concept was the keystone of the new and triumphant arch through which we passed to freedom.
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