Christmas cards...

At the beginning of this year, we thought Christmas 2009 was our "last" Christmas to do as we liked: Next Christmas would be so different, buying presents for a baby, getting up early, probably still sleep deprived. Last year, as I addressed and sent out cards, I knew it would be our last Christmas without a real child (not a dog or cat) on the front. 

So when it came time for Christmas cards this year, I was a) hurt and b) torn: I shouldn't include Noah on it, but how do I not? To not have included him would mean, to me, that we didn't value the time we had with him. Dave and I talked it over. We decided we would include him on the card. We would not send cards to anyone who didn't already 100% know. (I never made Noah's disorder public on Facebook.) 

So this card is what we came up with. I'm very happy with it. But also sad. Because I wanted to be buying "baby's first Christmas" ornaments and onesies. 

Lord willing, maybe next year.

The Holidays

In our church bulletin a few weeks ago, there was a blurb about a grief support group stating that the holidays are hardest after you've lost a loved one. I didn't really think much about it. I'm not sure why I thought "that won't be me" but it is.

Thanksgiving wasn't too bad; I am thankful for Noah. He has brought so much joy to our lives - but also much sadness. But I am still thankful for him, I couldn't see myself any other way. So I quietly passed through thanksgiving. (I'm sure it helped that we were very busy.)

But December is different. Nine months ago, we thought we'd be having baby's first Christmas, and what traditions to start, and a Christmas card without our pets on it. The obvious is that we don't have that. But what surprised me most was this past week: This past week was the week that we conceived Noah - maybe too much information for you, but it was. In the coming weeks, I will look back to this time last year - how I thought it was weird I was late, but chalked it up to the overseas move and the stress that involved - stress takes a toll on your body, right? I'll remember the first pregnancy test we took and how it was negative and Dave said "See, it's fine" and how I was highly skeptical.

Christmas will be hard. I can already see it coming. We took our positive pregnancy test on December 24. Christmas will be so hard. I'm glad we will be with family, and busy, but I know I'll cry. Probably more than once.

Recently, I attended a church sponsored women's Christmas gathering. We were singing some Christmas carols, I don't remember which one it was, but something about the lyrics just hit me and I had to leave and have a two-minute cry. (I'm lucky that I have my church-family to support me.)

I think the hardest part right now is not knowing when it will hit me. "It" being my missing Noah; being sad for myself, for Dave, for my family; that gaping hole of hurt. Now that I've recognized that December will be hard, I'm better at just letting myself feel it, instead of attempting to be strong and block the emotions.

The Balancing Act

Recently, I've learned the hard way about the love triangle that is Noah, my heart, and others.

You hear about that glow that prengant women get - I wonder what causes this perception of a glow, but I also think it's really sheer joy radiating out of a woman's face because she's accepted this unborn-child in to her life: She's committed and is so excited. It's joy.

It is only natural, I believe, to want to share this joy - hence all the mommy blogs, the internet forums, the literature, the (decaf)coffee talk sessions - all revolving around sharing this information.

And then women have the baby - and it's still all about sharing. To people without children, it seems weird and almost petty and often annoying. You share how much they pooped today, what time they woke up, how many times they fed; every intricate detail that (hopefully) people grow out of sharing.

But where do you fit in when you've lost your baby? When you can't share the first time he sat up, the first time he slept more than 6 hours, the first time he tried real carrots. I think there is a group of us that just lead double lives. You choose not to share about the baby at all - it probably is easier that way - to not talk about how you chose this name because then the person will ask how is the baby doing to which I will (never?) have a ready or good response.

I feel, however, that it isn't fair, though. My baby existed and impacted my life and others: I can only hope that I aspire to touch as many lives as Noah did has. I want to share - I want to tell everyone about him. But it hurts at the same time. Sometimes it hurts a lot. Sometimes it hurts a little.

So I shared recently. And it backfired. The conversation ended up becoming just downright hurtful, offensive, and inappropriate. Looking back now, I can see what went wrong: I shared with the wrong person. I shared with someone who would not understand the position I am in, the position I have been in, or the decision(s) I have made. I did not know this person well, that I had spent time with them.

And so I am at a crossroads: How do I know when it's okay to share? How do I know if it's a safe person to share with? Is it wrong to only want to share with people that will support me? And if I do that, isn't that just surrounding myself with "yes-men"?

And so I have recently discovered this will be a balancing act and I am learning on the fly every time. I will have to balance my overwhelming love for Noah and life with protecting myself and guarding my heart. Because everytime I share about Noah I am also opening myself up to be hurt: putting salt on a wound. In regards to my most recent failed sharing attempt - I will just have to hope and belive that God wanted me to share with that person for a reason - one that I will not know probably in this life time, but for a reason that will be revealed to me when I meet Noah again in Heaven.

And so there is this balancing act between sharing and guarding my heart.