one last step

I'm sitting outside, pen and paper in hand.  I've lost the cord to my laptop so I'm doing this old school style and will transfer it to the computer later.

I wish all of you could sit here and take this in with me; sunset, the sounds of summer (crickets and frogs), watching lightning bugs pop on and off all over the backyard.  It really is almost magical.

I wanted to share a few things that have been on my heart as of late. 

A couple of months ago I was in a dark place.  I'm not kidding. It was such a horrible place that I knew I was going to need to seek professional help by way of counseling.  A few weeks into this place that I had found myself, I had actually begun contacting a few counselors to discuss appointment times and fee information.  And I had left a message with my regular doctor to schedule an appointment to come in and speak to him about the possibility medication. I've been in the dumps before.  This was something different.

(I want to pause here to say something.  Guys, there is not a thing in the world that is wrong, or humiliating, or embarrassing, or weak about seeking mental professional help.  If you feel as if you have a broken leg - you don't sit at home waiting for it to heal up, you go to a doctor.  The same is true about mental health.  If you feel like you are on that ledge and that you need help, please ask for help!  If you feel ashamed or embarrassed - I will go with you and hold your hand!  I am not even kidding! I think there is a disconnect in our society today and most definitely a stigma that goes with mental illnesses; people are seen as broken or damaged and when someone is depressed their friends and family think that it's easy to just "snap out of it" or "think positive thoughts and it'll go away" or "just count your blessings".  In some cases, sure.  But, in cases of genuine depression, those statements do nothing and may even make things worse. I have no shame in saying that after my daughter was born I suffered from un-diagnosed post-partum depression and post-partum anxiety. From there I dealt with anxiety and panic attacks almost daily for nearly six months and then off and on for over 9 years.  I was on medication [which helped me tremendously!] for six months.  I will tell my story any time and anywhere with zero shame if it can help even ONE single person to not feel the stigma that can be attached to mental health issues! It was because of my own battles with post-partum depression that I knew pretty quickly that what I was currently experiencing wasn't just from grief or being "down in the dumps")

I was mad at everything. I was mad at friends who still have husbands for still having husbands. I was mad at people who were going on vacation for getting to go on vacation.  I was mad at people who were losing weight for losing weight.  I was mad at people with jobs for having careers.  I was mad at women who could do a perfect contour on their face.  I was mad at moms who were making healthy meals for their families. I was mad at people who seemed to have it all together and still had a couple of hours left in the day for themselves.  I mean if anything was going the least bit right in someone else's life - I was mad because of it.

The anger quickly gave way to bitterness which gave way to absolute despair.  I was at the point that I didn't even like myself anymore. 

I don't know when it started or why it started. My guess is that it was a grave that I was slowly digging - shovel by shovel - each day for who knows how long.  I just know that one day I felt like I was in the middle of a sinkhole filled with quicksand and no clue how I got there.  I was suffocating on the inside.  I felt so claustrophobic in my own thoughts. I spent most days in whatever clothes I had slept in the night before, not sure how many days passed between showers, and I cried - a lot - many times a day.  I didn't want to leave the house and some days even walking to the mailbox felt like a chore.   

I was pretty good at hiding it from most people. 

On the one hand I didn't want to let anyone down.  See - when people comment or act amazed at how I handle my chaotic life - internally it sets a standard that I feel the need to live up to.  I felt like if people knew that I was falling into this pit - then somehow I would appear as a failure in their eyes, and the last thing I want to do is to look like a failure to anyone. See, I have huge hopes of being able to play a part in transforming the lives of others.  If I myself am failing at transforming my own life then how could I possibly help anyone else?

Also, I didn't want to bother people with my issues. 

And, honestly, I didn't want to hear people advising me to "cheer up" or "it'll get better soon" or "I'll pray for you". 

I was engulfed in such hopelessness and I knew it was far greater than a simple "think about the good things you have in life" would help. 

It wasn't until I had been completely consumed by this depression for a few weeks that I reached out to my cousin, my sister, and my mom. Each have their own life experiences and I knew that I wouldn't get the old, run of the mill "chin up" talk from them.  I told them I knew I needed help.  I told them that I can only blame so much on hormones. And each one of them immediately encouraged me to seek help; go to my doctor and set up an appointment with a counselor. 

I didn't pray.  I didn't "cry out to God" to help me.  I just lived in the misery. 

I started keeping a hand-written journal about three weeks into it.  I wish I could offer some deep reason for keeping it, but I wanted to look for patterns and I also knew that should I see a counselor it would be beneficial to know what I was feeling day-to-day.  When I read those journal entries today, I can literally feel the hopelessness in my words.

4/30/17 "some days I feel like I really have a handle on things - those days are few and far between though.  For the most part I just really can't stand myself"

I remember one day being consumed with sadness that this was the life I was given.  See the thing is that to any other person, I have a great life!  Yes, my husband died and that sucks.  But, I'm healthy, I have four healthy children. I own my own home, live on a beautiful plot of land that is filled to the brim with gorgeous flowers and a breathtaking view.  I am able to provide for my little family.  I'm able to pay our bills every month and not wonder if this will be the month that I have to choose between electricity or water.  So there weren't really any big issues with my life that warranted me falling into this sadness.  Nothing!

Comparison is the thief of all joy and I can say with zero doubts that it literally robbed any and all joy that I had.  It was a double-edged sword because I would have these deep regrets of knowing that this was my life and the life that my children had to live.  I played the "what-if" game a lot! When I would allow myself to feel that regret then I would feel so guilty because I knew so many people have so much less than I do or have been forced to overcome so much more than I have.  So I'd feel mad at myself for allowing myself to feel so sullen about the life I have.  Wash, rinse, repeat. 

This was so much more than grief.  In fact I was pretty sure that this was actually not part of my grief journey at all.  This was a new beast in and of itself.

I feel like I met my grief head-on.  I knew enough to know that I needed to make sure I was addressing my grief and not pushing it down only for it to resurface later.  And I feel like I have and am succeeding in that. I have learned so many great coping skills for handling my grief.  But, I have failed in taking care of my relationship with God outside of my grief. And so when I started falling into depression it was confusing to me.  I wanted so badly to blame this depression on my grief from my husband's death because that would make sense; it would have been so much easier to rationalize - plus it wouldn't put the blame on me. 

But, it wasn't the grief - it was me!

I invited God into every part of my grief but I had stopped inviting Him into every other place in my life.  I was picking and choosing where God was allowed.  He was definitely okayed to come into the grieving part of my heart.  But, every other door was a no-go. 

God, no doubt, has held me so close in the past year and a half.  I have made no secret out of the fact that I know that it is God who has carried me through my grief. 

He isn't the one who moved away from me. He has always been so faithful to me and my little family. (when you get a second watch this short little video from Craig Groeshel of Life.Church - he pretty much hits the nail on the head!)

Let me be transparent for a second. 

I have not had a one-on-one, intimate relationship with the One who created me in years.  I have not regularly attended church in over four years (with the exception of Kyle's memorial service, and a visit or two to a church here in town while looking for a new church to attend). 

I've prayed from time to time - mainly in times of distress.  I don't remember the last time I had just sat and simply talked to God.  I had allowed myself to step away from God while at the same time being upset at all of the blessings in other people's lives.  I have missed it - I have missed Him. 

I knew I had to get back to God. I wasn't wanting to throw myself at God in hopes that He would heal me from this sinkhole I was in (yes, I know He's able - I also know that God puts doctors and counselors into the positions they're in for a reason as well!) - but I knew that God would be the best "right-hand Man" I could have while I journeyed through it.

So, one day I just decided to do it.

I started using what once was a journal about all of these dark emotions as a journal about my daily time with God.  Some are just short entries about what I'm doing that day along with anything meaningful that I get out of my time. They aren't pages and pages long.  I just wanted something so I could look back and be able to see how God's working. The transformation in the entries the past four weeks has been amazing to me and I can see with my own eyes how God is peeling back all of these dead layers of my heart and causing life to once again spring up! 

I almost feel like a "new Christian" and I guess in some ways I am. I'm having to re-learn how to have a relationship with God - not just praying when I'm desperate.  I had gotten so far away from Him that I had forgotten how to just talk to Him. 

I had no clue where to start with reading my Bible or even hearing God's voice. I remember when I was a kid I was determined I was going to read the Bible from cover to cover.  I started in Genesis.  And stopped reading somewhere in Numbers. Ha! That was not necessarily a plan I was going to try out this go 'round.

I pulled out all of my daily devotional books.

I have four total. 

One actually belonged to Kyle, so it feels right to have it in the mix.

They each have blurbs every day along with Bible verses.  Some days the blurbs speak straight to something that I've just prayed about (God speaking!), other days the Bible verses themselves speak, and some days the Bible verses lead me to cross-reference another verse that speaks to me.  But, every single day since I have started God has used one or the other to talk right to me. 

I've also committed to reading a chapter of Proverbs each day.  There was no huge earth-shattering philosophical revelation about doing this.  I had read on someone's twitter account one day that there are 31 chapters in Proverbs and that coincides with how many days are in some of the months and so I thought that seemed like a great place to start!

Some day I hope that this will lead into a deeper study - but for now it is helping me to get back into my walk with Him.

I have attempted (in the way-long-ago past) to dive into trying to set a "perfect" quiet time with God where there are no kids around and everything is still and quite literally...quiet.  I attempted to fit God in where I could and this strategy was never successful.  It would usually end with me getting frustrated because our schedule was off and I couldn't get the kids to turn their attention elsewhere so I'd just not do a "quiet time". 

But a few days into my trying to get back with God I had an epiphany!  My "quiet" time with God doesn't have to be quiet per say.  God isn't sitting around up in Heaven refusing to meet me on my deck until my kids are inside and not able to be heard. 

No.

Quiet time is me choosing to meet God as I am, where I am.

If my kids are at my feet and making random noises and playing with the birdseed on the deck - God is still there. Oftentimes my "quiet time" involves little feet walking or running back and forth on my deck.  They turn chairs upside down to make "playgrounds", and my toddler will call out the names of different birds that come to dine at the feeders. Some times the big kids will come sit with me for a few minutes.  A few times as I've been talking to God, my toddler will say "who you talkin' to mama?".  At first I felt a little embarrassed that he'd think his mother was talking to herself.  But then it hit me that this is an opportunity to teach my littles about God, about talking to God. 

I remember as a child seeing my mom pray or reading her Bible in the mornings before the day started.  Looking back now I realize what a precedent she set for me - seeing that she started her day inviting God in makes me want to be that same example for my kids!

"quiet" time

If there are 100 steps between me and God - He will always take the first 99 steps towards me.  It is up to me to take that last step to Him.  And for the past 4 weeks that's what I've been doing - and you know what?  I can already tell a difference in the way I view my daily life.  I can tell a BIG difference in my emotions.  I feel actual gratitude for this life that God has entrusted to me.  I feel actual happiness to see the blessings in the lives of those around me. I feel excitement about what lies ahead for me. I don't feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest 24 hours a day. I feel like that cloud of bitterness and depression has been lifted. As of right now I am in such a great place emotionally that I have felt peace about cancelling my appointments with the counselor and the doctor.  I know that should I ever need them - they'll be there.

Someone asked me last week how I was doing.  If you read this post you'll know that that hasn't been my favorite question over the past year and a half.  But, I've noticed in the past couple of weeks when someone asks, I haven't been saying my usual "I'm good" or "Oh, you know, as good as can be expected" in an effort to squash the conversation and not have to drudge up on I feel life is really going - but the words "I'm actually doing really great!" come out of my mouth.  And what's even better is that I mean it! (gasp!) I do not remember the last time that I was able to tell someone that I was great with all honesty. And I can not describe how that feels.

If you or someone you know is struggling with depression and/or suicidal thoughts - please do not hesitate to seek help. We can all help prevent suicide. If you’re thinking about suicide, are worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline network is available 24/7 across the United States. 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255)

peace in the chaos

"I don't know how you do it!"

I've become accustomed to hearing this statement when someone first hears my story.  Typically I'll make some joke about how I didn't know I had a choice and then on a more serious level I'll tell people the truth which is it's not me - it's all God.  All God!

But in all honesty - it's not easy.  In the least.

  

The last thing I would want for anyone to assume about me is that I have it all together.  The truth is that I am far from having it together. 

As I'm sitting here at my kitchen table typing this I have dishes piled up in my sink, I'm two loads of laundry behind, my bed isn't made up, and I've spent the better part of this week checking in on a giraffe who I'm convinced will never have her calf. My tupperware is all over the floor mixed in with every pot and pan that I own (thanks to a very curious ten month old).  My hairstyle of choice these days is a ponytail; and on the rare occasion that I actually wear it down, my baby looks at me as if I'm a stranger! Same rule applies for make-up. Most days I have daydreams of staying up after the kids have gone to bed so I can take a nice hot bubble bath and catch up on the handful of TV shows I've DVR'd - but end up falling asleep sitting on the end of the toddler's bed and can barely drag myself to my own bed with my eyes half-closed only to wake seven broken-up hours later to start it all over again.  I don't go to church on a regular occasion.  I want to.  I have felt really convicted over this one lately.  But, I wasn't even able to finish a ladies Bible study recently because when I would take the two little's to the nursery, my three year old would cry until he puked.  So even being able to visit churches so I can find one to raise my children in feels like a burden.  

And, if I may be so transparent - just this past week while I was on the kitchen floor with towels cleaning the (what felt like) gallon of freshly spilled water off the floor (ironically before the spill I had opened our water bill to find that our useage had DOUBLED from the past 5 months we've been here), the baby was crying in his highchair, the toddler was whining because the Leap Pad batteries had died, and my eleven year old was rattling on about every last known fact about German Shepherds - I looked over and saw ants marching in a line under one of my kitchen cabinets.  

I let out a loud and defeated "goooooooood grief!" as the tears started. 

My eleven year old inquired about what was up and as I was stuttering (my newest trick when I get frustrated) trying to get through the irritating story I blurted out in the snarkiest tone I think I have ever produced "times like this it sure would be amazing to have my husband but apparently God felt like I was good to go with handling this all on my own and I sure as heck don't know what He was thinking!".

Have you ever watched A Christmas Story? When Ralphie uttered the mother of all curse words and then IMMEDIATELY had regret written all over his face?

That's how I felt. Immediately. Doh.

I quickly tried to do some kind of damage control.

But dang it.

I think that was probably months of little stresses here and there that built up and needed to get out.  

I have this image in my head of the mom I want to be.  But I just always imagined having a partner to do this with.  I never imagined being a single (especially widowed) mom with four kids.  It definitely was not in my plan.  

Being a parent is HARD you guys - even when I had a partner who was very hands-on, it was still hard.  And now I'm in it alone. And we haven't even entered the dreaded puberty-laced dating years yet...

I feel like I am so spread thin.  

Most days I don't sit and concentrate on that fact.  In fact, I feel like I've done a decent job of, as I say, "embracing the chaos". Because, honestly...this is my chaos.  Trying to fight against it will do me no good. Kind of like quicksand; if you fight it you sink faster. I can try to cut down on it by keeping up with the basic day-to-day stuff such as making sure my bed is made, the sink is empty before bed at night, doing at least one load of laundry a day, trying to meal plan, etc.  But for the most part, my life is going to be chaotic for some time to come.  And if I let the fact that I'm in this chaos without a partner fester in me I find that I can start to feel depressed and really let down by God.  I know He has a plan.  I know He knows what's ahead.  But mercy can the here and now start to feel overwhelming.

So instead I try to make the most out of it.  

Yes, our life is hectic!! And we don't even have extra-curricular activities added in.  We have as of yet un-diagnosed medical conditions, potty training, preteen hormones (which leads to pre-teen attitudes), teething, not sleeping through the night, along with dentist, eye, ENT, and regular doctor appointments.  And I haven't even begun the job search yet.

Jesus take the wheel indeed!

Please know that if you feel overwhelmed, if you feel like life is throwing one thing after another at you and you don't know why, if you feel like you've been running a marathon and haven't gotten a chance to take a breath yet - you are not alone!  

You. Are. NOT. Alone!!! And if you feel alone - contact me.  You can vent and get it all out.  But you are not alone.

One thing that I have learned in this journey is that God has a plan in EVERYthing!  I've already been contacted by a few old friends asking if they can share my blog with widows who are new to the journey.  I've been asked for advice about what a ministry can do for a new widow. God has also been putting a couple ministry ideas on my heart to explore as well.

These are huge to me.  HUGE.  This is God using my journey.


And this is why I feel that there is a peace in my chaos.  

God HAS given me this journey for a reason.  I am really not a fan of the saying "God gave you this life because you're strong enough to live it".  No.  I'm not. But God can use the life He's given me and make me stronger through it. 

I am unsure if God will ever bless me with another partner in life. I always felt like I was created to be a wife and a mother.  But one thing I do know is that God has called me to find contentment where He has me right now.  

So when someone says to me "I don't know how you do it", well, I do it because God has trusted all of this to me. I want to make Him proud and be able to give Him glory in how I choose to navigate it. 

Without God - I really don't think that I COULD do it.  

surprise!

Often when I come here to write, I'll glance back over the last post I had written just to see what's happened since then; have I grown any? Any new lessons learned?  Any major life events?

It feels like it's been forever since I last wrote - and then I see it's only been a little over a month and a half and I try to think about everything that has gone on since then.  

I feel like I say "life is hectic" a lot.  I guess I do say it a lot.  Maybe it feels like I say it with the unspoken desire that it's going to calm down soon.  You know, like when you leave a sentence hanging with a "but....".  Life is hectic, but.....

Yeah.  There is no "but".  Life is hectic. Period. Or exclamation point! And really, I need to just settle to the fact that it's going to be hectic like this for a very long time. Embrace the hectic - or something like that. 

But sometimes things happen and I make mental notes to jot it down or to write about it so that it's a memory that we can hold on to - something that when the kids are older they can read about as they grow to learn about their dad.  

Over the past month two such things happened. I took photos with my phone to document and to remind me to blog about them.  Then my three year old decided to send my phone swimming in the toilet and I lost the photos.  Insert forehead slap here.  So, I'm taking time to sit and write this out before hectic happens some more and I forget it. 

Back in May 2011, Kyle, myself, and two of our closest friends had taken an adults-only trip to Kansas City.  I am a big royal family nut and they had a traveling Princess Diana exhibit that I just had to go see.  We had such a fun time.  We spent a couple of days there.  We went to Union Station, ate at a fancy-pants restaurant, saw the exhibit (where Kyle snuck a cell phone photo of Princess Diana's wedding dress for me), and just had a nice little vacation.

On our way home we had noticed that there were storms in the distance.  Then we started seeing bits and pieces of stuff falling from the sky.  At first we thought maybe they were leaves - but then quickly realized they were pieces of insulation from houses or buildings.  I didn't grow up on Oklahoma so I was oblivious.  But, when I saw that Kyle was concerned about it - I grew concerned.  Kyle loved tornadic weather.  He didn't like the idea of death and destruction - but he got a kick out of following the storms on radar and guessing their paths. I always chuckled when bad weather would start developing anywhere in Oklahoma.  I knew I could go to our office and find him with two computer screens and his phone all set on various radars and live weather feeds.  I knew I never had to worry about being surprised by a storm - he had all the angles covered!

Anyway, when we started seeing debris falling from the sky, Kyle pulled over on the side of the road to check weather apps and he also got a call from his mom about a tornado warning near us.  We were, maybe, 10-15 miles north of Joplin, Missouri at the time.  We made a group decision to head back up north to steer clear of the storm. Unbeknownst to us, the storm that we had avoided was the big 2011 Joplin tornado.  That was a memory that I will have with me forever - realizing what we were driving straight towards and the way that God saved us from what could have been otherwise catastrophic.

Kyle and I were married nearly one year to the day later.  Not long after we were married he decided we needed to work on assembling a tornado kit of sorts; just something that we could easily load in the van should a tornadic storm be headed for us that could sustain us for 24-48 hours.  And, let's also be real here - we had been watching the Walking Dead and you can't say that if you've ever watched that show that the thought of a zombie apocalypse hasn't crossed your mind at least a time or two.  We filled this giant tub with dried foods, baby needs, electronic devices, panchos, medicines, etc.

About five weeks ago I was going through tubs in the garage in an effort to free up some space and I ran across this tub of supplies.  I opened it up and I couldn't help but smile.  It's as if Kyle had prepared a housewarming AND baby-welcoming gift for me - full of things that I needed, but didn't actually have in the house. There were two HUGE economy packs of batteries (name brand - because who has time for off brand?) that still work.  There were also flashlights, a weather radio, writing tablets (he knew my love of office supplies!), water filters, a giant tarp, bungee cords, rope, and tape.  He also sent a huge pack of baby wipes, baby spoons, and bibs. These were originally for our now-toddler - but I'm guessing Kyle had no clue he was actually buying them for a son he would never meet.  And just for giggles - about 5 packs of dried fruits.  Our home sits on a half-acre lot that backs up to woods.  We have deer out this way that I love.  I put the dried fruits out as a treat for our deer.  

Here we are - over a year out from last seeing him - and God has still found ways to gift us with little touches here and there from him.

A few weeks ago I had signed up to join a women's Bible study.  I had come home after our first session and knew I needed to hunt down my Bible.  I have about five of them. It seems like each new season in my life I decide to buy a new Bible - but I always keep the old ones. I wanted to find the last Bible I had purchased.  It was a Bible that I bought before Kyle and I were married.  He and I had found a church in Oklahoma that we loved and wanted to be involved in so we decided to go buy new Bible's together to mark the occasion.  I found it downstairs in a box in the office.  When I was thumbing through it a note card fell out, a note card I had completely forgotten about.  Based on dates on the cards I'm assuming I wrote it in late 2012, early 2013.  It was a "vision list" of sorts on one side and the other side contained my prayer list.  

It wasn't long.  

On the vision list side I had written about wanting a reliable vehicle with low miles that would fit our family needs.  Next to it the words "done 2013".  I had been involved in a no-fault car accident when our now-toddler was just three weeks old.  This resulted in our van being totaled - and us being blessed with the ability to purchase a newer model.  God had used a tragedy to bring us blessings.

Then my eyes glanced at the other side of the vision list.  It was about specifics for a home for us.  

I actually gasped out loud when I saw the list.  

You see, back then we were living in an 1100 square foot home with a small fenced in back yard.  It was a rental home.  With a family our size - with plans to have more children we had hopes of one day owning our own home - so I decided to dream big about it. I remember thinking that this home I had envisioned would be way off in the future. But when I read each of the specifications that I wrote on this list some five years ago, I realized that I was describing perfectly the home that God allowed me to purchase here in September of last year: 

-greater than 2500 square feet (this one is 2600), 
-at least 3 bedroom/2 bathroom (this one is 4 bedroom/3 bath), 
-huge fenced in backyard (we have a 1/2 acre lot - half of which is fenced), 
-and a big kitchen (my kitchen now is ideal for me).  

A huge smile washed over my face. I marveled at how God had taken this "wish list" of mine and brought me to it.  

Again - he has used a tragedy of epic proportions and has brought blessings out of it.

Then I flipped the card over to the "prayer list" side.

The first item on the list "complete family restoration" - with the words "done 2014" written next to it.  You see, in 2012 (when I wrote this list) my family wasn't whole, and hadn't been for a few years.  All I had known growing up was this impenetrable, tight-knit family.  Stuff happened.  And there was a falling out of sorts.  We went for years without some of us even talking to each other.  I didn't think we'd ever be whole again.  But God caused such restoration to happen in our family in 2014. And our family has never been the same - we are, I feel, stronger than we have ever been.

The last item on the card literally took my breath away and gave me goosebumps.  

There it was - in my own handwriting:  

"Kyle's complete healing"

I stopped in my tracks and sobbed. Sobbed! I sat on the ground where I was and just held this card in my hands and let the tears flow. There were tears for all different reasons; joy, sadness, anger, thankfulness...

In 2012 Kyle had been plagued with headaches.  They eventually went 6 months before a diagnosis (and fix) was made.  So, I'm sure that's why I wrote this on there.  But at the same time - my brain and heart were so split on emotions.  

I immediately felt gratitude.  Kyle WAS completely healed.  COMPLETELY!  What an amazing thing to witness. And to see the words, in my own handwriting, knowing that when I wrote them - this outcome was NOT what I was expecting or praying for.  Yet at the same time - his healing was all I ever wanted.

Then I felt the "why's" coming.  Why God could you not have healed him HERE?  Why did his complete healing have to mean him being gone from this earth?

Then I circled back around to joy.  

Kyle is healed!  He has complete healing from any and every ailment he had ever had or would have had. He has been made completely brand new.  Wow!

God doesn't always answer prayers the way that we think that He should - but when I looked at this note card I realized that God answered every single prayer and completed every single vision I had on there. 

How incredible it is to be so loved by the creator of this universe that He has seen fit to bless me the way that He has.

372 days

Well here we are. 

I'm sitting in my living room.  My two youngest kids are playing at my feet in the living room.  My oldest two are sleeping in after staying up with me last night to welcome in the new year. The last fire log from my garage is crackling in the fireplace.  My Christmas tree is still up; the lights are twinkling.  Presents have all been opened.  Family has been visited.  

And I have been a widow for 372 days.

I wanted to take a few days to digest our Christmas before I tried to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) to talk about it.  And as I have thought and re-thought our holidays, I realized that we had a great Christmas. It was as it should have been; we laughed, we spent time with family, we reflected, we rejoiced at how far we've come.

I feel as if I stepped very lightly with every Christmas "thing" that we did this year - unsure as to how it would affect any of us.  But, I found that many of our normal Christmas traditions (decorating the tree, hanging stockings, Christmas Eve light display drive, etc.) were met with a certain comfort - almost like a hug from an old friend. We also did as was suggested in my grief group and started a new tradition - nothing big and magical (going Mexican for Christmas Eve dinner) but it's ours, we've embraced it, and it's something that we can look forward to.

I will admit that buying Christmas presents without Kyle was odd.  There was always something so exciting about going out together to pick out presents; especially for the kids.  He, himself, was a kid at heart and he had so much fun.  We often went over our present limit - but he got so much joy out of seeing our kids' faces light up on Christmas morning.  I found myself a little lost with it this year - but I survived and the kids were overjoyed Christmas morning, so I feel like I succeeded.

Out of all of the possible emotional triggers surrounding Christmas - surprisingly to me it was a song.  Not Christmas songs in general. Nope, one single stinking song. And not even a song with any sort of meaning to either Kyle or myself.  In fact it's a song that I really never liked- even before he passed away - and even more so now.   

The Carpenter's "Merry Christmas Darling" (sorry if you're a fan).  

I wasn't even purposefully sitting and listening to Christmas music - I only had it on in the background while doing random chores around the house.  That song came on and I was immediately transported back to December 23, 2015.  

The hospital had a wing of rooms in an older part of the building that they rented out to family members of patients in the ICU.  I decided to rent a room for the night so that I could be AT the hospital yet still try to get sleep.  They had attempted to take Kyle off of sedation and the ventilator earlier that afternoon/evening and it didn't go at all as expected.  I was a complete wreck.  I wanted to stay with him - but also being pregnant I had to think about the baby as well.  So I decided to take advantage of having a room with an actual bed to sleep in.  

The room itself was a good five or six minute walk through various corridors of the hospital. One of the hospital employees had walked me over there during the day - but when I walked over there that night I was alone. Since it was late at night the halls were virtually empty; except for the random pictures of Jesus on the wall.  It felt so cold, so lonely.  And that song was playing - echoing in those empty halls.  I can't tell you if was playing from the hospital speakers or if it was playing from some random office whose home was in the hospital.

I didn't really sleep that night.  I couldn't stop physically shaking from the fear of what was slowly unfolding in front of me. All I could do was beg God for a miracle over and over again.  It was also that night, in that hospital room, that I felt our sweet baby move on the outside of my belly for the first time.  Something Kyle would never get to experience. I like to believe that it was that exact moment that Kyle was taken into Heaven - and somehow it was a connection with our sweet baby moving the way he was.

So - that song, every time I heard it this year, brought me vividly back to that day.  And it seems like that song was played more this year than I've ever heard it before! I never really broke down - but it caused this really uneasy, heavy feeling in my chest.

It's so bizarre the way the mind works - what it holds on to.   

We decided to spend Christmas day morning this year in our new home and then make our way to Oklahoma to spend the remainder of Christmas day and a couple of days after with Kyle's family. I could not imagine being anywhere else this Christmas. 

Our trip to Oklahoma was so needed and we had a wonderful time with Kyle's family. There were some tears shed.  But for the most part I just enjoyed being with them.

For me - everything didn't really hit until the days after Christmas. 

In my grief journey I have found that grief doesn't hit when you would expect it to rather it just pops up in the least expected times.

The day after Christmas I was in my mom-in-law's backyard with our new puppy.  And my mind brought me back to the last time Kyle was in that yard - he was playing frisbee with the kids.  It felt like it was just yesterday! 

Two days after Christmas there was a post online from a girl who was looking for recommendations for OBGYN's who deliver at the same hospital where our youngest was born. Because I believe that my OB is without a doubt the best in the business (he handled my situation so delicately), I felt compelled to write this girl to let her know about my experience.  For whatever reason this brought up the same exact feelings I had on Christmas Eve 2015 when I had an OB appointment.  My OB's office shared a sky bridge with the hospital Kyle was in.  I remember that walk to his office. I'm pretty certain I looked like a deer in headlights the entire walk over. And then I had to tell my OB what was going on with my husband at the hospital right next to his office.  He and his nurse could not have been more compassionate; they both spent extra time with me, listened, spoke words of encouragement to me, and he did an extra ultrasound for me so I could just see my baby. He pointed out little things, like the baby's toes and fingers, and then just let me watch the baby move around on the screen.  But still there was a knot in my stomach the entire time; that sinking feeling. And in writing this girl I had flashbacks to that feeling. That was the first time since Kyle passed away that that particular feeling came up.   

That same day I took my older kids out for a late lunch.  We ran to McDonald's before going to the store. The McDonald's we ate at had a direct view to the place where we had our now-three-year-old's first birthday party.  It felt like it was just yesterday. I could see the back door that we had gone through to carry decorations in and out. And again the knot in my stomach came back - the nearly-nauseating feeling of grief.  That feeling of knowing that no matter how much you could possibly want to - you could never bring someone back. 

This coupled with the knot in my stomach from the post about my OB and I felt the tears coming.  And you know what I did?  I let them.  I sat in that McDonald's and let myself have that moment. It didn't last long - but apparently the release needed to happen.

Before we headed out to come back home - Kyle's mom gave me a huge hug in her driveway and said "we survived Christmas".

We did.  

We did it.  

God did it. 

God has surrounded us and made it possible for us to have made it through this past year. We have made it through a year's worth of holidays and special occasions.  And we have made it through the first anniversary of Kyle's passing. 

I know that he would be so proud of all of us for the way in which we have faced and conquered the unknown without him; the way that we have all rallied around each other.   

I have lived 372 days without him.   

The most important words in that last sentence: "I have lived".    

And now, another new year is in front of us.  

I feel like the last 372 days have taught me so much about continuing to live (genuinely live - not just exist) when, to quote a famous philosopher, my life got flipped, turned upside down.  

In any situation I know that my God goes before me.  He knows the end from the beginning.  There is peace in that.  

Trust me, I fail God on a daily basis. I don't have it together when it comes to my relationship with Him. At all. I can't stand up and quote scriptures.  I really don't know as many Bible stories as I should. I don't make it to church every Sunday. 

But, His love for me has never failed.  Even when it seems like maybe He's made a mistake - in the end it ends up that He was so, so right.  If we're keeping score - He has yet to get anything wrong.  Those are some pretty great odds.  That is why I can have absolute faith that He knows what He's doing.   

This is the story He has given me.  It is my job to live this life in such a way that He is glorified - that others might see that it is He in me that has allowed me to come this far.  

It is because of Him that I have hope.   

My Grandma Esther wrote to me in 1999 about her own husband's passing when she was a young, pregnant mother.  She said "I dearly loved him and thought I could never live without him. But God showed me otherwise. Because when he died, God was so close and protective and helped me in every way. It was a terrific experience to have God to depend on solely". 

When Kyle first passed away - I couldn't imagine I would ever be able to say such words.  But now 372 days later - I feel as if I could have written those exact words myself.  God has been so close and so protective.  I never thought I could live without Kyle - but God has shown me otherwise.

So what's next?

I have set some goals for 2017. Not necessarily resolutions.  I want to get to know me; I want to discover who I am. Not me as a wife.  Not me as a mom.  Me as an individual.  I want to know me again.  It is so easy to get lost in the identity of "wife" or "mom" or "student".  But at the end of the day, I'm still an individual. I also want to better myself (physically, mentally, spiritually). I want to learn to not fear the loneliness - but to appreciate it. 

Where 2016 has been a year of change, I pray for 2017 to be a year of growth.