Close Enough

I do not believe that everything happens for a reason. I believe that people who believe that are looking for a way to explain things they don't want to face. No offense to those of you who believe that, I'm just angry. I was talking about it with a very good friend of mine the other day. She said, "I believe things happen the way they are supposed to happen." I said, "I don't." And she said, "I know you don't." Kind of blew me off like I was an idiot for thinking the way I do. Even though she knows why I think the way I do. I think that if she was the one that had lost a child (heaven forbid) she wouldn't have been so nonchalant about it. In fact, I think that probably, if you'd lost a child, you wouldn't believe in much of anything. Until you held another baby in your arms. This one- that looks back at you- who looks like you. Who looks like her sister. Then you could start to believe that it was okay if the world goes on. Then you could wake up (if you were lucky enough to sleep) and not feel like immediately closing your eyes again. I do not believe that everything happens for a reason. But I do believe that there are things that happen that will change the way we see/feel/breathe/believe. That maybe we find reason in the things that at first we don't understand. That there are things that happen that make God sad. That He doesn't strike us down because it's his job, but that it's His job to watch us learn and to grieve for us and with us.

You would think that by now, I would be writing happy blogs. It's strange how I have always written more when I am unhappy. It's a strange thing. But I have realized that I can write more when Ben is in my life. I think he might be my muse. I spent two days with him last week and I felt like writing again. I started thinking in poetry, which hasn't happened in years. Unfortunately, I didn't write it down. These are the things that fall down around us. These are the things we spend our lives picking up.

After 19 months it feels worse. Every day is one day further away from Charlotte. When I miss her, I still put my hand on my stomach, almost like I expect her to be there. I put my hand on my stomach, where she lived for 9 months. Even after giving birth to her wonderful, beautiful sister, my body feels empty. Because she was lost so suddenly. Because she was gone so quickly. The week after we lost her is a blur. I remember flashes. I remember after her funeral. I remember laughing at Mike's friends and thinking, "Oh my lord, did I just laugh?" It wasn't even at something funny. I remember feeling like shit because everyone there turned and looked at me like I'd forgotten that we had just buried my daughter. I remember that. I remember picking out a headstone. I remember feeling her kick. I felt her moving, but when I put my hand to my stomach to feel her, she wasn't there. Sometimes I still feel a baby moving, and I always think it's Charlotte. Possibly because Miss Sophia is sitting here in front of me, babbling and blowing raspberries at her toys. 

I understand how blessed I am. As much as I write about Charlotte, I do not write about Sophia, and I realize that it may seem strange. Here I have this wonderful, beautiful baby, and all I write about is her sister. But I am able to take endless pictures of Sophia. I take nearly a thousand a month. I am able to hold her when she is upset. I am able to see her smile in the mornings. I sing to her, dance with her, read to her. I am not ignoring the fact that I was given the world back after I lost it. Every day- I thank God for what I have been given. I am aware of how lucky I am to have both Sophia and Mike, who keep me going. Who drive me crazy. Who make it possible for me to breathe.

And while all of these things are brewing in my head, because I don't sit down and take the time to blog them out often enough- more and more things happen that build up. Tarina and Neal and Aiden are on their way back to California to start their life as a family. Jeremiah and Felishia brought Wyatt home from the hospital last night, where he had been for several days because he had meningitis. I felt so helpless, being so far away from them, not being able to help. Or even to say somehting that would help. In situations where a baby is sick, I freeze. I feel like I cannot bring comfort. So I ask God to please help Charlotte to watch over her cousins. And I know she does.

And through all of this, through the nights of insomnia, and the frustrating days of not knowing where I fit in as a mother- I have this amazing "new" set of friends. My Online Friends, I call them. And I know that I am so lucky to have them at this point in my life. Especially Lisa- who keeps me sane when I start to feel like I am going to fall apart. I can always count on these ladies to make me feel as though I am not the only person in the world up at midnight with crying baby, that I am not alone in the war on teething.  On the days when I feel like I am a horrible person for ttc so soon after losing Charlotte, like I am an idiot for using her baby book for  Sophia. These women gather around me and reassure me that I am only human. That I am a sleep deprived, babbling monster sometimes, but that I am a mommy- and I am doing an okay job. They make it possible for me to function on 3 hours of sleep, to not only function, but to KEEP my sanity, to be able to laugh and play with Sophia even when I feel like crying. Because I am a mommy, and that's what we do.