Long December

It's been a while since my last post. I have been doing something I am often guilty of - filling up my days and nights with so many activities I don't have time to sit and stare....or think. Thinking is something I do constantly when I'm not distracted, which is usually fine. I am an only child and have been left alone with my thoughts my entire life. It's part of the reason I know myself as well as I do, and I like that part of me. But for the past 9 months, time to think only means time to think about what we've been through. Losing Webb. The miscarriage. The horrible infection and aftermath of the infection. The unsure, unstable future. I am also stuck in a place where I don't want to be continuously pitied, but I can't stand to think people have "forgotten" what we've been through, what we continue to go through. I have seen such a shift in how I relate to others and to the outside world. I want to be the same as I was on December 22, 2008, but the truth is, that person is gone. I still have many of her characteristics, but for the most part, she is gone. I am less tolerant of many personality traits and situations that used to make me merely roll my eyes. I am now completely annoyed by people who pick petty fights or worry about insignificant things. Don't they know??? Don't they realize the only important thing in life is that their children are still alive??? Then I have to remind myself, of course they do, but they haven't been through what you've been through. And I have to be the first to admit I used to get worked up about things that no longer phase me. It's human nature, and it's all relative, but it's sometimes hard for the new me to operate in the world of the old way of looking at things. I put on a happy face, and I continue to trudge through my days, and sometimes it's real, and sometimes it's fake, but right now, it's the only way. I always had a sense it would get harder as the months wore on. They say "time" is the greatest healer, but I think that is only true on some levels. Because really, what time does, is blur the past into distant memories so it is not all you have to think about. It will not bring Webb back. It will not magically change me into the person I used to be. It will not make me happier, or more settled. In some ways, time is my worst enemy because each day is one day further from the last time I saw my baby, and I don't WANT those memories to fade.
I went back and read the paragraph above and realized it sounds a bit rambling. But instead of trying to make it make sense, I left it because it represents how I feel right now - all over the place. In 30 minutes, I will no doubt be crying over the fact that so many people love me and continue to pick me up when I fall. It is the conflicting emotions I have talked about many times - the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. It's leading a bipolar life but not having the disease. It's a tough way to live.
I have used many songs on this blog and in my life to express how I am feeling. By now, faithful readers know I relate my life to music, and that one of the bands I do this with is the Counting Crows. I have all their albums and love to look for the deeper meanings in their songs. Although I have heard it a million times and know every word by heart, I am not sure why "Long December" has never occurred to me once over the past 9 months. But it was on the other day when I was driving home in the rain, and I almost had to pull over at some of the verses, like "the smell of hospitals in winter, and the feeling that it's all a lot of oysters, but no pearls;" or "I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself to hold on to these moments as they pass..." It made me think about my "Long December" and I wondered, " Will I ever see a reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last?" I hope so. But so far....no such luck.

First Days...

I haven't posted in a while.  I'd like to say it's because I have been so busy - which is true - but part of me just hasn't wanted to give words to what I have been feeling lately.  Bo and Whit started school on Tuesday.  Last week, I met the teachers that should have been Whit and Webb's teachers.  I should have been holding both of their hands, showing them around their new classroom.  I should have gotten 3 backpacks, not 2.  Webb never went to school and he never will.  It was another "first."  Whit was nervous and anxious, and I know having Bo somewhere in the vicinity helped, but I couldn't help but think if Webb had been there, he would have been ok.  He would have had his buddy.  Instead, I pictured him sitting quietly in the corner, my sweet, shy little boy, sucking his thumb, feeling scared, and, well, it breaks my heart.  It reminded me I am not the only person who has been torn in two.  In some ways, although he is likely unaware of it, Whit's loss is much, much worse.  I suppose every year he starts school, I will picture the way it should have been, with his twin by his side.  It hurts.  

We are already starting to dread Christmas.  I cannot even believe this year is almost over.  It has not "flown by" for us, by any means.  In fact, it has been the slowest year of my entire life.  What I cannot believe is that we are going to have to celebrate Christmas during a time that has so many horrible memories for us.  I do not know how December 23 through December 26, what is supposed to be such a happy time of the year, will ever be truly happy for us.  I cannot even look at Christmas decorations without feeling sick.  It reminds me of the Christmas tree at the hospital, the running errands on December 22, picking out gifts we would never open.  Or did we?  I can't remember.  It reminds me of the sleigh bells that jingled in the waiting room, as Santa's helpers passed out gifts to all the sick children.  Did we get anything for Webb?  I can't remember.  It reminds me of so much - so many hopes and dreams (we couldn't wait to see the twins open their matching bikes), and so much heartache, so much pain, saying goodbye to our baby.  I used to love Christmas.  Now it will never be the same.  Never.  And that is our reality.

The first day of school, the first Halloween, the first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas - we know it will be hard.  We are once again in survival mode.  To top it all off, the baby that was supposed to be here a few weeks after Christmas will not.  What a year.  What a painful, horrific, tear filled year.  We hope and pray this is the last time we have to face "firsts" like these.  Please, God, please let it be the last worst year.