Thursday, December 16, 2010

Break my heart for what breaks yours...

I'm in the middle of composing an email response to a dear friend, telling her how I'm doing and talking about my miscarriage. I just wrote this,
"I think I'm more upset that I'm not more upset, like maybe if I was upset then I'd be emotionally motivated out of the slump I feel stuck in."
Then I started to think about how I've felt dead for many years now, emotionally dead. Like, when I was healed of my severe depression, a different type of depression set it. One that was intended for mere survival. If I don't feel, then I won't go out of control. So I allowed myself to just turn off. I used to be someone who was considered "emotional". I HATED being called emotional. I had big feelings, I was passionate, I was motivated and moved by feelings. The last 5 years or so, that hasn't been the case. I'm kind of stoic, logical, dead. And I've seen it in my feelings towards my kids. I don't feel love like I used to. My heart doesn't swell with overwhelming emotion towards them or Teddy. I am clinical, going through the motions, and have allowed attitudes and actions to appear that would have been abhorrent to me before.

As I was writing this email, I realized that I'm scared. I was severely hurt by people I cared about and trusted a few years ago, and was told that the way I am is not right. So I feel like if I allow emotion to have it's way in me, I am doing something wrong and I am vulnerable to that abuse again. But I want to be swept away with this rush of love for my kiddos; I want to be giddy with lovesick flutters when I think of my husband. I want to cry again at the Hallmark commercials and give money to every homeless person and be moved to change the world because my heart breaks for a sick child. I want to be me again, no matter how emotional and dramatic that is. God gave me this heart and I want to let it breathe and feel again.

So, in writing the email to my dear and loving friend, Cindy, I realized that this is all I want for Christmas. I want Jesus to break my heart. I want to allow my heart to feel my hurt and to stop being protected, because I feel like I can't forgive and move on until I let the arrow penetrate all the way in. Then I can yank it out and heal. And maybe then, I can find that love feeling again...that overwhelming sense of being so lost in someone that their entire essence permeates everything I am.

So with that, here's a song that has meant so much to me over the years, even when I'm mad at God or feeling alone. My favorite part is the bridge, my prayer if you will,
Heal my heart and make it clean, open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me
Break my heart for what breaks yours, everything I am for your Kingdom's cause

Monday, December 13, 2010

Where are you Christmas?

So I've been trying to get into the Christmas spirit. Really. I've been focusing on advent and not presents; trying not be sad that our Disneyland trip needs to be postponed and instead focusing on the positives of our current situation; and trying to dig back into the Bible to find my way back to the faith that I've lost.

So I sit here, trying to see how this next problem is going to play into finding Christmas and my faith. I know it will, as I've seen God's hand very clearly in some situations lately. As some of you know, a year ago I started a weight loss journey and was doing very good for awhile. Lately, it's been hard going, but I'm still traveling the journey, confident that I will see health before I'm 40. Between losing weight and all the miscarriages have had (7 total, with the last 3 being in the past 5 years) I figured we would officially say we are done with babies. So, Teddy volunteered to make that decision permanent. This was about 4 months ago and it was an awful experience for him. Just awful. So awful that he never went back to make sure things were permanent. I hope you're following. THEN, the last 6 weeks, we have been all getting regular chiropractic care. Who knew, all these years of my infertility, that all I needed was regular chiro care to have regular cycles. So I've been having some regularity, my husband isn't sterile like he's supposed to be (apparently), and I found myself about two weeks ago experiencing some symptoms very similar to pregnancy. Two tests were negative, and one was iffy, possibly a faulty test. So Saturday morning, when my dear friend showed up 9 days late, I had a feeling I knew what was going on. I've been down this road enough to know what losing a baby looks like.

So I endured, and even enjoyed a little, Teddy's work Christmas party on Saturday night. We stayed the night at the Red Lion where it was held, but even with all the fun of the night and stuff, I was in pain and uncomfortable. More so than usual. Sunday afternoon was very stressful for other reasons, and by the time I got home from some errands Sunday around 6pm, I was hardly able to walk. Crying, hurting, needing to clean up. What transpired over the next 30 minutes was me, officially having a miscarriage.

I'm not as upset as I should be. I mean, it's number 8 for me and truth be told, I'm not totally convinced that it was a 'real' pregnancy. I have had ones before that were 'maybe babies', where if it had continued we probably would never had heard a heartbeat. Sometimes I think they're like chemical pregnancies, something like that. I wasn't trying to get pregnant. In fact, I was hoping I wasn't, except my kids would be so happy. But honestly, I'm not really upset. At least, yet. And lately, my mothering has been so awful that I don't deserve any more children! That's not saying I'm happy either. And I have a few friends whom I love dearly who are hurting over worse things right now, so my pain is in perspective and I'm grateful for that. But still....puts a bit of a damper on Christmas celebrating, if only for a little bit. I know God can make beauty appear out of the ashes. This is what I'm praying for, for myself and for my hurting friends, and for my family's Christmas.