Not Easy

Matt and I had a date night over the weekend. I'd been eagerly anticipating the release of Gatsby (loving the incredibly visual aspect of the previews) and Matt was paying attention to its release. It had been quite a long time (for us) since we'd gone out to see a new movie.

Although Matt felt he needed to work Saturday, he made it home in time for us to get ready, run an errand, eat dinner and see the show. The time was tight, so there were some hairy moments, but it all came together. We had a great dinner and really liked the movie.

The story itself is a sad one; that much I remembered from reading it in junior high, but it was a well-crafted movie and interesting to see it play out. Needless to say, it was not an early night. With church coming early Sunday morning, I knew I'd be tired (and yawning) during the service.

As is often the case with me and my brain, I laid my head on the pillow and thought about the sadness of the story. What might have been. What could have been. Why didn't their story end happily? My heart always yearns for a happy ending. Even with a story with which I was familiar, I still yearned for a happy ending. 

It wasn't too long before I drifted off to sleep, but when morning came, I wasn't ready to get up. Sunday is the one morning all week that I get out of bed first. It's sort of my gift to Matt. He gets to spread out over the whole bed and cozy in a bit longer while I take my shower.

You know how it feels on a Saturday morning (or for those of you who are moms, maybe you can remember Saturday mornings of long ago) when you've really had enough sleep, but the bed just feels so good that you want to stay in it longer? Snuggle up in the sheets and rest...just a little bit longer. That's how it was...and it wasn't just me. The longer I lingered, the more I thought that I'd get up when Matt climbed out. I thought, "When he gets up at his normal time, I'll get out and get going." Soon I learned that Matt wasn't ready to get up either.

Time was slipping away and I knew we'd be late if I didn't get in gear, but as I lay there, I realized I just didn't want to. All of a sudden, it dawned on me that I didn't want to go. That's something that just doesn't cross my mind on a Sunday morning. There have been times while I'm getting ready that I really, really don't look forward to it because of the social relationships (i.e. the lack thereof or dissatisfaction with it), but it's never about not wanting to go. We have a good Sunday school teacher and great pastor...meaning both rightly divide the word and teach us/challenge us each week in a good way.

As I laid there, I just wanted to linger. I confessed to Matt, as I forced my feet to hang off the side of the bed, that I had a severe case of the want tos. The I don't want tos. I trudged on to get ready and as I tried to hurry with everything that needed to be done, I became frustrated with my hair. If you know me at all, you know I'm not one to spend much time on the whole hair and makeup process. It's just not that high on the priority list. My goal for the hair is for it to be dry, orderly and set.

I was having a major case of the disorderly going on Sunday morning and I was losing my temper. Matt was basically ready to go about that time and I knew we needed to leave. I warned him I was about ready to throw something. He did a disappearing act, which isn't terribly unusual. I often find myself finishing a thought after a brief pause in conversation only to find he's not in the room any longer. This time though, I had to wonder if he was giving me space so I could throw something without a witness or if he was making sure he wasn't caught in the crossfire. ;)

As I continued to mess, unsuccessfully, with my unruly mane, I grew in frustration and anger to the point of being tempted to take scissors to it. And yes, I've actually done that once before when I was younger. I wasn't angry enough at the time to cut it all off or do any major damage, but I did hack at it slightly recklessly until I could "do something with it." This time, I barely managed to talk myself out of it, knowing it would take too much time. I thought it'd have to wait until Monday. Fortunately, and finally, the right brush took care of the problem.

It's really a shameful thing when I get so worked up that I'm tempted to throw something or chop at my hair, but there was way more going on emotionally than I realized at the time. It was Mother's Day and only a few days from the due date for my first child. The one we lost.

Oddly, it took a while for it to seep into my consciousness that feelings of loss were making me want to linger in bed...feelings of loss were spurring on the frustration and anger I was feeling toward what was going on in the getting-ready process...

Once it did occur to me, I couldn't say anything to Matt. I didn't want to cry. I'd already made us late to church. I didn't want to unravel on the way.

I sat through Sunday school with baby gifts sitting at my feet. They were for three new moms (all having recently given birth to their second babies.) One of the babies was in class with mom, dad and grandparents. A preemie who is not ready for the nursery yet. After class, I scurried around to give the baby gifts to the moms before service started and of course, saw each baby with each mom. They are all about two weeks old. It struck me how little they all are...my sister's kids were all whoppers when they were born, so these kids seem teeny tiny to me.

When I returned to my seat and church began, I joined in with the worship as always and enjoyed it. Then came announcements and an acknowledgement to mothers. When all the moms were asked to raise their hands, I knew I was a mom, but couldn't raise my hand without the risk of several asking if I was expecting (and just hadn't announced yet). Occasionally I'm asked anyway. Then, the men were asked to clap for all of the moms, so it was inadvertently overlooked that in the crowd there were women without children who want them. I admit I was distracted during most of the sermon that followed.

I'm not sure exactly what I was thinking about, it certainly wasn't about babies or I likely would have cried and had to excuse myself. There are just some things that always make me sad enough to cry, whether or not it has impacted me personally, and one of those things is the lack of a child when one is wanted. As I sat there, I tried to focus, but my mind was in and out, only catching tidbits.

Since it was our week to eat at home (we eat out every other week now), we bowed out of a suggestion from friends about where we might eat and headed on to greet friends and make our way to the car. As we sat in the car, Matt said, "It's Mother's Day for you too, where would you like to eat?" and continued to say, "I didn't want to eat out with anyone else today, but thought we should go out since it's Mother's Day for you too." I weakly replied that I didn't mind going home to eat, that it was ok.

My head wasn't altogether in the moment, but the hubbub of a restaurant wasn't particularly appealing. I was craving a solitary place with Matt, but I wasn't able to articulate it. My response was lackluster, but I left it up to him to decide. He held firm, saying, "No, we'll go out. I think we should avoid all the typical Mother's Day kind of restaurants and go somewhere there won't be a crowd. I have an idea of where we can go. Let's stop by the plant first and we'll eat near there." And off we went.

As I sat in the car waiting, while Matt checked the plant, I decided to read some posts on Facebook. I knew it wasn't a good idea, but I thought I'd see what was going on anyway. There were two posts among all of the Mother's Day acknowledgements that stirred my heart. Here is what they wrote:

"Praying for my sweet friends today who are having to endure Mother's Day with empty arms due to infertility, miscarriage or infant loss. Love you, girls!"

"Happy Mothers Day to all you moms out there! I am very grateful for my precious mom who has been the best example of what a Godly mom should be! A mom who has cried, laughed with me who has encouraged me non stop! She had walked this battle of infertility 40 years ago and lost sweet baby girl (who is now playing with her nephew) I can't thank God enough for her and as I go through this battle it's easier knowing she has been through this same journey! Now my heart aches for my many friends who have lost their moms you girls are in my prayers!! And for all the ladies going through infertility or has lost a baby hang in there God is not done with us yet! This is just a part of our story!!"

I don't know whether or not Matt caught a glimpse of me wiping away the tears when he was on his way back to the car, but I decided Facebook had to go away for a while longer. Those words were encouraging and a comfort to my heart, but I didn't want to cry anymore.

It almost seems like failure when I cry about it. I know the truth; I'm resting on the truth; My mind is straight on this issue; I'm trusting God. One thing I'm learning about loss is that no matter how rightly you may be thinking about all of it, the loss is real. Sometimes, even when you don't expect it, when you think you're ok, when you're ready to be happy for someone else, when you're ready to celebrate the joy of what a day represents, something creeps into your mind and touches your heart, reminding you of your loss. Crying is not a failure, but it may still feel that way for a while.

In the meantime, my mom received a gift delivered to the house, a card in the mail, a brief text wishing her a Happy Mother's Day and an intended phone call to chat that ended up a brief heads up about something on t.v. I thought she'd want to see and a quick "Happy Mother's Day!" A lingering conversation usually happens a couple of times a week with text messages and emails the other days, but I wanted to make a call on the day. Considering the week, I think it may be a while. I cry more on difficult days when I talk to my parents, even if all I have to mutter is "hello." We're just that close. (That's also why I didn't talk to either of them on the phone for a week after losing our baby. I just couldn't do it. Emotionally.)

One of my friends mentioned in a conversation not long ago that she looks at this time of waiting as something God will ultimately use in the lives of others I meet. That it is a part of my story, a part of my testimony that He'll use to minister to others. I like that thought.

A new perspective I've acquired as of this Mother's Day is that a day I once saw as a wholly joyous occasion, to celebrate my Mom and all she is to me and the hope of being a mom one day myself, forever will be seen as a day mixed with both joy and pain for many. Pain for ones who've lost children (by miscarriage, illness, accident), who want and are waiting for children (struggling with infertility, awaiting adoption, nothing's "wrong"/it's just not happening), ones who've never had a mom to celebrate (abandonment, poor job mothering/uninvolved) and ones whose mothers are no longer with us (affecting men as well).

Mother's Day is well worth celebrating for all the moms who sacrifice so much for their children and families. In fact, we are remiss if we only celebrate these wonderful women one day a year. It's simply a matter of recognizing now what I never did before, that with great moments of joy for some, others are hurting. 
 

When we left the plant and made it to the restaurant Matt chose for lunch, I can't tell you how happy I was to see it was almost completely empty. We also were right across the street from a yogurt shop. I put in a word right away that I was up for dessert at Yogi Castle after lunch :) The atmosphere was quiet; the food was really good; the idea and plan were perfect. I even got my dessert!

It wasn't until Monday morning that I told Matt my realization of why I didn't want to get up and go to church Sunday morning. He simply replied, "I know. I figured that was it." It was a simple, brief exchange as he was getting ready to leave for work, but between that and how he handled lunch on Sunday, it was perfect. It still amazes me how God has blessed me with a husband who is perfectly fitted to me and what I need. It was not an easy day, but he made it easier. :)