Twenty-Four

For those of you that aren't already aware, music is something I find solace in. I am no singer and definitely not a talented musician. I enjoy the listening part. And I most definitely enjoy the lyrics that musicians write so beautifully. With the exception of my first post, my blog titles are and will continue to be song titles. Sometimes I may just use the song title simply because it happens to coincide with how I am feeling or the general focus of my writing. Other times, the song title may not be as obvious, such as today's. For the titles that aren't as obvious, the lyrics within the song are where the heart of my current mood and/or thoughts are taking me.

Today's choice is "Twenty-Four" by my most favorite band in the world, Switchfoot. As far as lyrics go and as far as I'm concerned, Jon Foreman (the lead singer) is a bit of a lyrical genius. He wrote this song on the eve of his 25th birthday. Out of all of Switchfoot's songs, this one is probably the one that resonates with me the most, and most often. Depending on the situation, this song is uplifting and healing. Sometimes certain lines hit home more than others and sometimes the song in its entirety reflects my current realities. If you are so inclined with curiosity to have a peak into my head, here is a link to youtube for a listen to the song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLagfciU_PU

Life is moving along, however ridiculously slow at times. Some days are harder than others, usually the ones where I see someone's beautiful baby or the ones that I have to start off with a trip to the lab to get more blood drawn. I am seriously starting to believe that one should qualify for frequent flier miles when you recognize all the lab techs and they start recognizing you. I have my moments where I just want to forget this whole sordid situation, but I have to remind myself that I would be completely off-base and out of touch with reality.... and just not human. To forget what has happened would make me a robot. To not feel any pain would make me a robot.

I am not a robot.

However, I look forward to the day that I will find joy in looking at cute babies and adorable children and not feel so much sadness in my heart. I know that day is coming, but for now, please continue to bare with me while I try to avoid such situations. I'm finding it easier to share my situation. At first, I didn't know how to tell much of anyone beyond my tight circle of family and closest of friends. I contribute my lack of sharing in part to my discomfort with accepting what was and is happening.

After the little bit of time that has passed and the support from family and friends (and old friends), I feel as though I have begun to heal. Others sharing their own incredibly personal stories has helped me recognize that this didn't happen because I did something wrong or that there is something wrong with me. This happens because of completely uncontrollable circumstances, and at no matter what stage, is still incredibly emotionally painful. Being pregnant is almost similar to that "near death" experience where your life flashes before your eyes, only in slow motion. You come to this realization of what really matters and what you want to protect most. You dream. You dream of health and happiness. And the life you want to build.

So when that ends - a piece of your heart goes with it. One of my old high school friends wrote to me about how she has been coping with her own situation and she reminded me that our baby is in a better place, Heaven. We weren't able to meet our babies here on earth, but we will in Heaven. I find comfort in this.

Patrick recently read, or rather listened to, Sarah Palin's book - Going Rogue. He told me the other day that he wanted me to listen to an excerpt he had heard earlier that day. I thought it would be some quirky Palin-esque response to some situation she had on the campaign trail. Instead, he had me listen to her poignant sharing of her own personal miscarriage. She talked of her joy and excitement, and then of her sorrow. It was somber and yet beautifully told.

We as women do not seem to share this amongst one another unless we hear of this tragedy. When we experience it, we believe ourselves to be alone during it, as though no one else around us has gone through it. Yet as we begin to tell our families and friends, others begin sharing their sadness. Why? Why do we choose to not share until someone else goes through it? We share our trials and tribulations with cramps, bloating, mood swings, and chocolate cravings, so why not miscarriage? I realize how incredibly personal it is, but so are our monthly visits from 'Aunt Flo'.

At times I have felt like I shouldn't talk about it, but with this happening to so many people, why should I sit quietly with this pain and only share it with my closest loved ones? Don't get me wrong though, I won't be going on national tv to talk about it, but I don't plan to hide it or forget that it has happened. That's not how I roll. But talking and sharing helps. It has been a great coping mechanism. I may not always want to talk about it, but I will have my moments and I will have my periods of reflection and sorrow. Remember - I'm only human. I am no robot.

I remind myself that tomorrow is another day, which will bring along another, and so on. Each day will bring more hope and healing, and each new day will bring us closer to another chance to be blessed with our own healthy, beautiful, bundle of joy.