You Are My Narrative

Dearest Kennedy Kate,

Just recently I attended a conference on Infant Mental Health for four days.  On a side note, sweet girl, your mama finally found something she is truly interested in to pursue post undergrad and it really makes me happy.  Plus, I have the support of many wonderful people (other than family) who are cheering me on and helping me out through it.  Okay...back to the conference.  So, it is Tuesday of the conference.  Day 3.  I have been overwhelmed by the stories, case studies, history of what mental health at the infant/early childhood level is like.  It shook me to my very core on Monday....almost to the point where I wasn't sure I could go back and do another day.  But nevertheless, Tuesday comes.  And off I go back to Milwaukee for the conference.

Tuesday morning starts off somewhat rocky again with the rollercoaster of emotions taking over until one part of the day.  The part of the day where someone asked about my pin.  The pin I wear in honor of you.  My pink rainbow ribbon pin that a very special friend of your mama's made for me and others like me who live their lives without their babies in their arms.  So, one of new friends asks about my pin and if it has significance.  I explain that it is a remembrance pin for babies who have died through pregnancy, stillbirth or in early infancy.  I then told them about you.  My little girl.  The little girl I lost at 22 weeks.  All three women were a little caught off guard about my story and then quickly apologized and showed empathy.  One of them even said that if things ever became too difficult during this program (specifically when we talk about pregnancy), she wanted to let me know that she was here to support me.  I appreciated the comfort talking about you gave me and how I was able to share your story so early on in my relationship with these new people.

As the day moved on, I thought about how quickly I had shared my story of you, especially with people I had only known for about 2 days.  Yet, it came so easily, Kennedy.  It just felt like another story of my life.  Like I was talking about a trip I had taken.  Typically, I hate thinking how rote it becomes for me to tell the story of your life.  Because it shouldn't be easy.  But it is.  It's easy because it's my life.  You are my life.  Which leads me into the next part of this blog post.

The nationally recognized speaker (who had rocked me to my very core) was leading a break-out session later on in the day.  My program required all of us "newbies" to sit in on his session.  During his presentation, he shared a story about a man who was from Poland who had been taken in by another family during the Holocaust.  The man (then a boy) lived in a wardrobe type closet for 18 months with only the man, woman and children bringing him food.  Everything was done in this closet.  The boy was never allowed to go out.  After those 18 months, the war must have ended and the little boy was given the opportunity to go off on his own and find other members of his immediate family.  According to the man, this family that he had lived with had saved his life.  Only his life had been quite terrible living in this wardrobe all day/all night for a year.  Can you only imagine?  This boy could have been scarred by the situation.  Actually, he probably was scarred.  And scared.  This was a traumatic event which probably gave him symptoms of PTSD.  Yet, the boy/man was able to move on past the event.  He lived through it and was given the chance to live again.  And he truly lived.  He lived to love and marry.  He lived to have a family of his own.  However, as he indicated in his video interview, this event was his story.  It was his narrative that made him who he was today.  He wished it didn't have to happen the way it did.  But because it did, he lived to tell about it, and eventually live out his life and be happy.

After watching this video and hearing this man's story, the speaker asked us to think about our narrative.  Our story.  A story that has changed us.  Or something that has made us who we are today.  Kennedy, I didn't even have to stop and think about it like others did.  You are my story.  You are the one person in my life who has completely changed it.  What happened to me, I would never wish on anyone else, yet it happened.  I have come to accept it.  And because of you, I am who I am today.  And I am accepting that too.  There are people who have come into my life who I would not have without you, yet I cannot imagine them not in my life now.  And there are people who have disappeared from my life because of you that I don't truly believe belonged in my life at this point anyways.  They played their role in my life, and maybe it's their time to bow out and make room for others.  That's another acceptance.  The other part of my life that I have learned to finally accept is the marriage to your daddy.  Kennedy, for as long as I live, I will never say that the ending of our marriage was due to the loss of you.  However, due to the loss of you, we became different people.  People who grew apart, and, unfortunately, were never able to find ourselves back to each other.  However, as I indicated before, special people have come into my life since then that have shown me how to be happy again.  And maybe even love again.

The story of you and your role in my life has impacted me more in the past three years than anything else in the last 30.  I cannot imagine my life without you in it.  You may not be here, but everything I do, I have you in my heart and mind.  You are never far away.  I truly believe I am a better, more thoughtful, stronger person because of you.  I think I am starting to find my place in the world again....or maybe just for the first time.  As I have posted before, there are parts/events of my life before your impact that are blurry.  I am forgetting that life.  And I am "ok" with that.  I cannot go back to that life, so why bother worrying about what it was like, who I was with, etc.  If those people and events are part of my life now, then that is the way it is meant to be.  If not, so be it.  I cannot change who I am.  I cannot change what has happened.  You are my narrative.  You are the story I want to share.  Kennedy, you will always be the missing piece to my puzzle, yet you are also the piece that I always want to miss because I don't want the complete puzzle without you being a part of it.

One of the quotes, the speaker at my conference brought up was similar to the one I am posting below.  "It is your REACTION to ADVERSITY, not the adversity itself, that DETERMINES how your LIFE'S STORY will develop, " quoted by Dieter F. Uchtdorf.  He brought this up when telling the story of the man from Poland and after we talked about our narratives.  It really is about how you react.  And in various circumstances, we react differently depending on who we are.  The loss of you, sweet girl, was my most traumatic adversity.  And, at times, my reactions were all over the place, which, in turn has caused other events to occur.  But, I believe my reaction to it now, is leading me down a path that I am comfortable with.  Maybe that is the path of acceptance.  It might also be the path of happiness.
 

Thank you, Kennedy, for being my narrative....a vital part of my story.  You brought me to the place in my life where I am now.  The clouds have parted.  I am breathing easier.  I see bluer skies.  Sunshine.  Sure, the tough days are there brought on by triggers that are completely out of my control.  But those are also a part of my life now too.  Those triggers are there because of that missing puzzle piece.  You.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  My daughther, you are the most precious gift I have ever been given.  That is why you are my narrative.  The gift of your life will always have an effect on my life, and for that, I am truly blessed.

Love you always, baby of mine.
XOXO,
Mommy

Somewhere to belong...

Just recently I started reading Knocked Up, Knocked Down by Monica Murphy LeMoine. I had found Monica's blog early on in my journey and felt a huge connection with the way she was able to write openly and honestly. She had a way of writing that made me feel like we were having a conversation. I didn't actually feel like I was reading someone who actually "knew how to write." She wrote from her heart....and wanted to share exactly the way she felt as to touch others who were going through some of the same emotions. So, in November, a month after Kennedy's heaven date, I finally ordered this book on Amazon. I finally felt like I was ready to read a book from someone who was "real", almost brutally honest in her journey. I have yet to finish the book, but there was a part in the book that hit me like a brick wall....it hit and made me realize how much I connected with this author, yet have almost been afraid to admit it.

In the book, the author experienced pregnancy with two of her best friends. She formed a "Mommy's club" with these two other women and the shared the joys and downfalls of pregnancy. The author writes about how she had imagined the three children growing up together and the everlasting bonds that their families would share. When the author lost her little boy in the last month of pregnancy, she realized how alone she was. How disconnected from Earth she felt. How disconnected she felt from the two women she called her best friends. As the author goes through the first few months of grief and the births of the other babies, she talks about how she isn't sure she can continue to be friends with these ladies but that "being excluded from her little snow-globe world of prego-friends and happiness disappearing, was more than she could bear." When the author visits her friends and their babies, she talks about how "wrong and fake" it feels. She even goes to express that she feels that her "carefully cultivated and much-worshiped relationships are changing beyond her control." As a final statement in her chapter titled Ashes on my Hands, one of her "best" friends comes up to her at her son's memorial service and gives her a hug. The author describes it is as a "goodbye." "Goodbye, friend. Our roads are parting. Catch you on the flip side."

This is a very real feeling for me. I know what it's like to meet someone you totally connect with....and want to share the same journeys with. I have many best friends who are at those stages in their lives. They have been happily married for three to five years and are now ready to add a little bundle of joy to the picture. This is where I thought I was two to three years ago. So, I happily talked about what it would be like to have children at the same time with many of my good friends. And it really was all panning out to be that way (despite the fact that things in life really weren't as good as I wanted them to be--but that's another part of the story). So, there I was pregnant, about 9 months after one of my best friends, 6 weeks ahead another, and nine months ahead of one more. It was all going to work out so perfectly....yet, as you all know, it didn't. And here I stand on the outside. I stand on the outside looking in at friends who continue to get pregnant, have already had their babies, and are even on their way to thinking about having others. I watch as they talk about what their babies are doing, how "magical" Christmas was with them, how glorious pregnancy is, how "easy" the heartbeat is to find, etc. I feel the pain in my heart every time I read the card that says, "Dad's name, Mom's name, and baby." I no longer belong to this club...and my little Snow-Globe no longer exists. It's been eliminated by the fact that my baby isn't here on Earth. So, that's one club that I really don't belong in. Because I'm a mom, but not to a baby here. But I'm also not someone who has never carried a baby, so where do I belong?

Then there is the club of "happily married." I don't belong to this club either... And since I would prefer not to go into great detail about this part of my life yet, I will just say that in late September, I chose to remove myself from a sad and difficult situation and separate from my husband. We have currently been separated for about 4 months now. So, as many of my friends are living their "June and Ward Cleaver" life, I look from the outside there too. I'm not single...but I'm not really married either. So, where do I belong?

As someone who really always felt connected to groups of people....I somehow have ended on the outskirts. The people that I once called "best" friends are losing their role in my life as I am in theirs. It hurts something terrible to have this realization...but it's a very real fact. Until these parts of my life somehow come together again soon, I feel that these friendships and people are going to end up too far away to catch up to or with. But maybe that's the way it's all supposed to be? My Aunt Kathy, from Texas, who has been a huge support for me for the past year and a half, told me over Christmastime that she sees only "big" things for me in the future. She sees Kennedy holding the light out to me....as if to show me what other things in life I can find happiness in. She talked to me about how I have to hold out for that "hope" that things will be okay. That things will work out. And that those people who have been there for me will always be there...even if it might look or feel different. She also made me think about the new people I have met through this journey....and how those friendships are a sign or gift from my beautiful daughter. She wanted me to find people....and feel connected. Kennedy knew that would be important to me.

So, as I find myself continuing to search for somewhere to belong that includes, but is not limited to: a place to call "home"; friends who I feel connected with and loved; a job that always brings a smile to my face; a sense of peace of what my beautiful Kennedy means to my life now; and a way to be happy with someone, I continue to hold out for hope that this "somewhere" is possible. I have to believe that there is a place for me. There is a plan for me. I just don't know what it is just yet. Keep holding out that light, Kennedy. Show me, sweet girl. Show me what this world has in store for me.