The New “Normal”.

It is so hard to cuddle these little boys and beg internally for my own. It is my first day back to being a nanny after two weeks of silence and grief and loneliness, and my body feels separate from my mind. I somehow remember how to smile and say thank you and give directions and take care of these little gentlemen, but my mind is in a different world.

It is so hard to remember what I thought of a month ago – the excitement of our first baby, the wondering if we would have a boy or girl, the name debate and trying them out loud, the amazement of being pregnant and seeing my body change and being so filled with joy – a joy so easy to share with everyone . The natural urge to protect my baby everywhere I went ; being on guard around certain people and making sure never to forget my seatbelt and thinking about everything I ate . Is it reckless that now there is a part of me that doesn’t want to be safe, or healthy, or happy, or care at all, or even be here?

My midwife told me at my postpartum appointment yesterday that she wants us to wait to try to get pregnant again for at least few months, to give time to grieve and not grasp desperately to another pregnancy, and so that my body can heal and be healthy and give our future baby the best possible start. I know she is right. But just the thought tears me apart – half of me is dying just to have a baby to hold in these aching arms; the other half can’t stand the thought of moving on, without Jackson. It breaks my heart to think about. I can’t understand how to go forward in my mind. I want to beg my husband, beg the Lord, beg saint Gerard, please, please, I want to be a mother. Please. This is my vocation. I gave up everything to follow you, Lord. My heart is in pieces. I feel like you broke your promise to me. You allowed us to create a soul with you, and then literally opened my body and took my baby away. I know that he was never really mine.. you entrusted him to me to love and care for. Did I fail you? Was I not ready? I was trying, Papa! I was reading every book and article and asking questions. I asked Mama Mary to place him in the protection of her mantle.

Rex has been working so late and I feel like my communication skills are broken somehow. I have a mountain of thoughts and fears and doubts and needs piled up in my mind but I am silent, not wanting anyone else to feel this pain, not wanting anyone to worry about me because they will ask how I am and they don’t really want to know because they don’t know what to do.
I went to Jackson’s grave yesterday and sobbed in the wet dirt for an hour, telling him how much I miss him and everything I love about him. I read him the letter from Kate, my sweet friend in New Jersey, who told us of the nine different religious communities who are praying with and for my family. My family. We are a family. Rex, Anna, and Jackson.
I asked him to help me to share the love we have for him. How my heart aches when I think of loving anyone but Jackson… I can’t bear the thought but I know somehow I must. I asked him to help me not to lose it, not to waste it, but to share his life and the love we have for him with everyone. I asked him to pray for the fruition of our dream – to pray for the boys who are coming to us in need of parents. Maybe we will name the ranch after him.

I wish I could tell the world about my baby. Every time I think about what he looked and felt like, he is more perfect to me. But I am so afraid to say anything because I hate to be a burden, going on and on. The world has forgotten how to listen, even me. They either all have a story of their own heartbreak, but forget that this is my heartbreak… or perhaps it’s me who has forgotten how to give grace.