Five Minute Friday: Risk

Linking up with The Gypsy Mama today to participate in this week's word:  Risk.  This is where we get to write what comes to mind; unedited. For just five minutes.

GO:

Risk

Life is full of risks.  We take some, we pass on some, and we live with the choices we make.  Ten years ago I would have said my greatest risks were deciding to be a stay-at-home mom and taking the financial plunge to allow me to work from home.  I got a return on my investment.  Tenfold.  That was one of the smartest decisions I ever made and though it was risky leaving a full-time job with benefits, I have never looked back wishing I had done it differently.

I would not consider myself a gambler, at all actually.  But I have married a man who yearns for calculated risk and considers risks not taken as opportunities lost rather than resisting temptations.  Together we have come a long way.  We've had our peaks and valleys and ridden through a lot of bumps, a LOT of bumps, along the way.  We've diverted our paths and our journey has changed in ways we never conceived.  These have all made me who I am and made us who we are.

These are traits I already see in our little ones.  I hope more than anything, they seek us out when facing some of their risks.  We can't make any tough decisions for them.  But we can make them see things a little clearer.

STOP

A dream I dream

I've been dreaming a lot lately--remembering bits and pieces when I wake up anyway.  Something I haven't done for years.  And a couple days ago I had a dream that I'd like to think was Chase, though I'm not really sure.

I don't remember much of it just the part about Chase.  If I had written it down immediately, I would have remembered more, but I didn't--I was just focused on that little piece as it happened right before I woke up.

Like I said, there's not much to it.  But Patric and I were together.  We were looking into a bunch of bushes or little trees somewhere--I have no idea where we were.  And I saw a little boy.  We might have even said his name, I don't remember, but the little boy came out of the trees and gave me the biggest, tightest hug you can imagine.  And boy did I return it!  The only reason I can't say for sure if it was Chase or not was because this little boy was bigger than a three year old.  He was, however, about the size of some little boys I had recently seen in a show and made a very prominent connection to Chase.

I don't know.  But the hug.  The embrace.  It felt like a welcome home embrace.  Maybe not welcome home, but it definitely was an "I miss you sooooooo much" hug.  And it was right before I woke up in the morning.  So it brought a few tears throughout the day as I thought about that dream a lot.  Still do.  I know he comes to me.  I know he's watching over us and he's with us all the time.  But I know he's a part of other people's lives, too.  He's helping taking care of a lot of people.  Some I may not even know. Yet.

I miss you sweet boy.  I love you. And I can't wait for that hug.  I can almost feel it already.

love,
mom

Things People Say

I had a post about this early on my grief journey.  Things people said that hurt, whether it was intentional or not, or just  not thought about before they said it.

Today I was at my dentist appointment where I had dental surgery last November getting a routine checkup.  The hygienist was super sweet, very kind and very gentle (if that's even possible in a dentist office).  We had the typical surface-type conversations, with most of it being on her end as I could not really speak if I wanted to.  She finished with the painful part--ultrasonic yuck--and polished and then flossed.  As she was flossing and talking about the surgery I had had done, she commented that she has, in fact, heard from some female patients that dental surgery was worse than labor.  I nodded my head in agreement and then she said, "at least at the end of labor you get this beautiful baby to hold in your arms and on top of that an endorphin-high feeling!  You don't get that after dental surgery!"

The words cut straight through my soul.  I knew she meant well.  But in reality, she didn't know what the hell she  meant.  Or said.  Obviously she had never experienced or known anyone that has experienced loss.  I thought about correcting her and then thought twice.  I figured informing her about the pain of infant loss wasn't worth making her feel terribly rotten for what she said.  But then again, maybe I could have enlightened her.  Opened her eyes to a new world, if anything, of what NOT to say to a patient, even though you never thought it could be that way.  Babies.  It's all happiness. Bliss. Pure.  Bright.  That's what some people think, anyway.

I probably would have said those words at one point in my life.  Maybe I have even, I don't know.  But the thing is nothing's guaranteed. Nothing.  No matter how hard it is when you are going through it, no matter how hard you work at it, no matter how "worth-it" it's supposed to be.  Sometimes it just doesn't go that way.  So, no, labor can sometimes be just like dental surgery.  A lot of pain, maybe even traumatic, and you walk out of the office with nothing to show for what you went through.

ETA:   I wasn't angry with her.  I'm used to this.  There are a LOT of things that people say AND that I don't say anymore, that take on a new meaning (or the original meaning in the literal sense) when you've lost a child.  Like I said, she was a very sweet woman.  But it doesn't mean the words still didn't make my heart ache.  It's life as we know it on this journey.  Just something I wanted to blog about because it was on my mind a lot.

Five Minute Friday......Expectations

Oh, my.  It's as if Miss Lisa Jo is picking her FMF topics according to my life.  I checked her out on Friday to see what the word is.  And since I'm still trying to "get better" at writing these posts, I walked away from my laptop and thought about the word for a while.  Well, I live my life like "If you give a mouse a cookie...." and moved on to 14 other things Friday and never came back to this blog.  However.  Miss LisaJo spoke to me again Friday night.  About 2am to be exact.  Well, it started then, but I didn't realize what my problem was until I got up about 7am and then realized that this stupid little word....EXPECTATION....is eating me up right now.  Today.  You see, I turned 40 today.  I haven't embraced this day.  The last week I have been trying to avoid it as much as possible.  But it has come, regardless of my intentions.  And it has been a horrible, sulking/tearful kind of day.  Because of my expectations.  So I am now going to begin my post.  Partly because thus ends the explanation for me....and partly because I only have five minutes left to write anyways.

EXPECTATION

GO:

Ten years ago I had expectations.  I was loving that I was starting my 30s.  We were starting our family.  I was a healthy, active, fit mom.  I was staying in shape.  I was living life....loving it.  I secretly planned it out.  We were going to be done having kids by the time I was 35.  By 40, I'd have all the kids in school and, who knows, maybe really into running or triathlons, maybe even competing.  Maybe even competing in swimming.  Ha!  Everything went as planned the first three years of that decade.

Then we took a turn.  We tried and failed, tried and failed and then I was pregnant at 35, expecting the baby when i was 36.  That's okay, I'm still exercising while pregnant, still fit.  I'm a year behind.  Then tragedy.  My life fell apart.  My heart broken.  My existence questioned.  Then I was extremely lucky enough to get pregnant again.  At 37, having the baby when I was 38.  This was pushing it, right?

Baby #5 was hard.  Has been very hard.  My life has not been the way I had planned it would be.  I'm struggling, some days more than others.  Not to raise my family, but to be who I wanted to be.  I'm not living up to my own expectations.  And this has been disappointing.

For this reason, I hate turning 40.  I'm not giving up.  But I'm fighting it.  Not embracing it.  I have set new goals.  Changed my view a little bit. I still have the same picture.  The focus has just changed.  And I have had to figure out what my new expectations are exactly.  I'll get there.  I expect to, anyway.

STOP.

I have so much more to write.  Will have to save for another post.  Linking up with Gypsy Mama today.  Please join in!

Five Minute Friday: See

Linking up with Gypsy Mama today.  Five minutes of writing; unedited, unscripted, real...with this word:

See

Go.

I see my babies.   Especially  my girls.  In whatever they do.  They fight just like they were 3 and 5, but they are 10 and 12 now.  They play just like they were 3 and 5.  They talk, sometimes, just like they were 3 and 5.  It makes me giggle.  A little more dramatic, a little bit older concepts.  But same tone and same hand gestures and body language.  I love it.

Pain.  I look at pictures and I could tell you whether the picture was taken before Chase died or after, just by the eyes and the mouth.  Our smiles are not the same.  Our eyes are not the same.  And everything behind it, too.  The smiles are back, but they are different now.  The pictures immediately after Chase's death are painful to look at.  I didn't take very many for several weeks after.  The few I did, though, show great pain in them.  A very deep sadness.  Even in my littlest one.  Just turned four, the blank, dull expressions speak volumes to me now.

Beauty.  I see beauty with much more profoundness now.  I appreciate the beauty, where it originated, where it is and where it is going.  A sunset, a rainbow, a storm.  Each has it's own perfect beauty.

When I look at something, I see it so much better now.  And ironically, my eyesight is getting worse!  But I really look these days.  I see past the surface....or at least try to.

STOP.