Friday, January 8, 2010


I like to check in on a couple of blogs of mothers who have lost children. One of them is "A Daily Scoop" by Stephanie Waite in Las Vegas. She wrote a post recently that included this statement:

"There is a sense of failure that comes from losing a child. It devastates your self image as a mother. No matter how they died, there is a sense that you failed to keep them alive. That is built into your DNA - Keep them alive. To fail at that, even if it was out of your hands or you know it was God's will for them to go at this time, is devastating."

So true.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Foothills and Valleys

I know the usual phrase is "Peaks and Valleys", but I can't say that I've made it to anything close to a peak yet. I have managed the foothills though. Sometimes I don't stay there for long before I find myself on the downward slope to the valley again. Last week I would say I was at one of the lowest places in that valley, but this week I am striding up to the foothills again. That's how it goes, up and down, up and down. So, sometimes I may write about the view from the valley floor, and sometimes the outlook may be more broad. I hope you don't mind when I describe the scene down low - I don't want to keep it completely to myself, but I also don't want you to think that I have lost hope of ever climbing out. I don't know what this journey is going to look like for me. I just take it how it comes. I'm not going to pressure myself to feel happy, or say that I feel at peace with my life. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

A Tight Space

I feel the way I think people with claustrophobia must feel. My chest tightens. Breathing takes thought. The world around me looks surreal. I concentrate to keep myself from breaking into tiny shards of myself. I feel this way not when faced with an elevator or a room with no windows, but when I open eyes in the morning and am faced with life. Nearly every second of the day I feel this way. And I think, "This is crazy. Surely this can't be. Surely none of this real." And many times a day I realize that, yes, it is real. This is it. This is life now. My life is a tight space. I can't breathe in it. And sometimes, I don't even want to.

So I live each day, telling myself that really breathing is not optional and I need to just do it. So I do. And lots of people think I am fine. And I am fine. Fine. People can live like this. I can live like this. I have to.