dressing down?

Remember the days when i used to spend a little extra time assembling the cute outfit or two for going out? I don't either. Lest anyone thinks i have given up, i haven't. I have just strengthened some other habits which greatly outnumber this particular one. For example: I set my alarm to wake me in case the very content thumb-sucking, [and very wet] baby does not, so that i get up to nurse before i soak the sheets with milk. After the ritual, it is usually time to feed the rest of my little army, so yep, the shower gets pushed back yet again. I am often preparing lunch while still in my jammies and i HATE it! Although the functionality of a ponytail, t-shirt & jeans [or jammies] i cannot undermine, i get tired of it. I want to wear that cute outfit and look classy when i select produce at the farmer's market, but nope i am resigned to sweep the stray hairs back with a quick glance in the rear-view mirror and say to myself "that will have to do.'

Still...

I used to be so sure of myself. Now I question my decisions all the time. Should I cut my hair, should I purchase that item, should i attempt to fix that, will this end up blowing up in my face. I especially struggle with forming new friendships, meeting new people and standing my ground. It's not so much that I am seeking the approval of others, it's more that I am seeking the approval of myself. I find that there is still a level of blame or self-doubt that taints everything. I know I did all I had the power to do with all the knowledge I had at the time, and yet there is still something that lingers, compares, and judges and condemns. I can easily decide what meals to put on a 2 week menu, but what color to paint the walls in the bathroom, that's just overwhelming. Is it because it's long-term and I still struggle with long-term decisions? I don't want to sound like life has crippled me, I just notice that some days the rug still feels like it is pulled out from under me and I am still figuring out who I am again all over and then I mess up and I am afraid, yes, afraid to try again because I hate to fail. Yes, I look at that edge, that jump. I tiptoe toward it over and over and over wanting so desperately to have the courage to jump and the faith that I will either fly or land on solid ground and then I turn around and I just think, "Not today, I'm not ready..." and I look at the where  am and I yearn for the where I want to be although I don't even really know what that is yet. I know all the wishing in the world won't change a thing, yet most of the time i have no idea where to begin...

Mother's Day 2014

"Mother's Day is every day" someone close to me is known to say. I don't expect roses or a day spent in bed, I'll spend my moments with my treasures instead. While my work taken for-granted I sometimes resent, these are moments that are truly well spent. I am investing in something bigger than me: I nurture the sparks of eternity. For I know that time is sprinting on and I dare not blink for they soon will be gone. I'll know I've done well when the sweet day comes and they bring their own children to spend time with their Mom.

*Loving my children, my Mother, my Grandmas, and all who have mother-hearts this day and always.

Buried Treasures

A couple of weeks back I was having a conversation with my husband and somehow it turned to the topic of our parents. I found myself speaking aloud the truth: "Someday, we are going to have to bury our parents..." but I quickly pushed it aside and out of the conversation because it made me feel so uncomfortable. UNCOMFORTABLE, really, Jamie?!? You have buried three of your children and the thought of burying your Mom or Dad makes you uncomfortable? That isn't even the word for it.

When we buried our Hope, I felt like we were burying hope itself. I felt as if we were burying information. How would his birth have gone? Why didn't he survive? What would this child be like, who would he look like, how would the other children love him? When we buried Gracelyn and Finn, it was like burying dreams. Dreams of daughters in little white dresses, the sound of their laughter, the warmth of their smiles. What would raising twins be like? Could I die of sleep deprivation times two? So many experiences I dreamed of, but they were not to be in this lifetime. Yes, it was painful, it remains painful, but still different. 

My thoughts are that when I have to bury my Mom or Dad or a sibling, I will have to bury the body of someone I have known and loved for my WHOLE life, their whole life. That is a lot of time, memories and moments embodied in the face, voice and touch of someone I love. It is not the end, I know, more the beginning of a separation, a longing. And since we know not how long life will be or how soon we will be reunited, the mystery of that timetable causes our souls to weep, to mourn. And that is normal. I do know this truth : Every life is exactly the right length for every soul.

Although I do at times, I try not to say "I lost my son"  or " I lost my daughters" because when something is 'lost' it implies it needs to be found, recovered, searched for. I know where my children are and I have  found peace with that knowledge. However, when I say farewell to my Mom or Dad or my sister or brother I think I will find myself using the word 'lost' because I know no other word for the feelings of having someone I hold so dear here in the present gone from here for a time. I cannot see their face, I cannot send a letter, I cannot make a call, I cannot hear their laughter, but it is only for a time. 

Try this: think of the sound the front door makes in the home you grew up in. You can hear it, can't you? You don't have to be there to experience that sound. It is etched so deeply into your memory that it would be hard to erase. Now, think of all that is held behind that door for good or for bad. It's there isn't it. And there are the images of those you shared that home with, the sounds, the smells, the memories, the emotions. All right there in your memory and in your heart. So if that home was gone, destroyed, burnt down, lost in a natural disaster, whatever, would it erase all of that? Would it be 'lost'? I don't believe so, and that is pretty much the same way I think about those who have gone on ahead. What we had with them is not over; they live on, both here and there. Although saying goodbye is so extremely hard, I know it is not forever and that truth can, in time, be enough to get me through the here and now.

The Sweetest Words

As I sit here reading the messages of encouragement from loved ones I am taken back by how wonderful the written word is. I love the way words look on a page or in a letter or a note from someone who cares about you. The greatest gift someone could give me would be my hand-written name and address situated slightly below and to the left of a postage stamp on an envelope containing a hand-written note intended just for me. The sweetest words to run across my mind today have so very many tender feelings tied to them: Spouse, Children, Mother, Daddy, Sister, Brother, Friend, Love, Family, Home, Savior. How sweet it feels to write them knowing I have them all.

Easter, again

This Easter was the first time we have been back to the cemetery since Christmastime and since our rainbow boy was born. I expected it to be a little tough, but what triggered the lump in my throat was not our children's graveside, but the one next to it. A new one, a fresh one. I found my thoughts turning to that little one's mother. Who is she? What is her story? Does she have support? What about that baby's Daddy? There at my feet were the resting place of 3 of our own, our rainbow baby full of life, and then this new grave site. We saw some other families there who came to visit their little ones as well and as we talked I saw something so beautiful: smiles. It reminded me that if we allow it, healing DOES come, with time, the Atonement, and a lot of grief-work on our own part. I haven't found the words to capture all I was feeling, but I had this distinct thought: Life goes on. Not that it moves on and there is a forgetting, but that there is so much of life worth living for and that no goodbyes are forever.

A Step in the Dark

After a few deep breaths and some encouraging words from some dear friends, I have decided to write my story. My life story, my grief story, my rainbow story and whatever comes next.