Monday, June 30, 2014

The Awkward Silence

This particular post has been stewing for awhile. Today, of all days, I post it, even though today is not a day that I'm "ok". With that said...

Is it ok to be ok?

I think so....


Do I want to cry everyday? Sometimes.

Do I feel like slowly the world is forgetting that he lived, that he was a part of this life?

Sure do.

Do I now have a deeper wisdom when it comes to seeing these kind of situations from the outside looking in?


Can I ever cry enough to bring him back?

If I could, he would be here.




For awhile I was the girl who was pregnant with a baby with heart problems, then I was the mother with a baby that had heart problems, next I was the mother of a baby who died of heart problems, and now... Well, I'm at an odd place.  It's been over long enough that life has moved on, there is no need to blog or update everyone or even ask for prayer anymore(at least like I did) I always wondered about the day when I wouldn't "need" you all so much. (But maybe I really do because so many continually tell me that they pray for me often) I was driving down the road the other day and the thought, "I'm glad he died" made it's presence known in my mind and it caught me off guard. For the last 19 months I have been trying to learn to be ok with the fact that he did pass away and suddenly out of no where, I am glad he died? I immediately explored that thought and prayed, "Lord, what am I even saying?!" Later in the week I came across a picture on Instagram of another heart baby's "9am meds"... There are 11 meds laid out in their doses ready to give her. It occurred to me that that would have been my life. My baby boy would be on lots of meds, all the time and would be forever. You know I'm not saying that I wouldn't do it everyday of my life if I could. If Noah were here, alive, and he needed that many meds, more surgeries, constant medical attention etc, you know we would do it, everyday of our lives and we would be thankful he was here with us. I can tell you that I would drive 6 hours one way to be at his Dr's or we would have moved to Ft. Worth. I would have been there everyday, trying to make his world as happy and functional as possible. Trust me, I would have. If he were here we would do all we would have to do and all we could do to make his life an incredible one.


But he's not.

He. Is. Not. Here.


You want the honest truth?

I am glad he's whole.

I am glad he's healed.

I am glad I'm not administering 11 medications multiple times a day.

I am glad he will never have to endure another heart surgery. Ever.

I am glad he won't have to ever deal with why his body failed him from the start.

I am glad that he has won his race.


With that being said, I've come to an odd place in grief. It comes much less than it used to, life is at a normal place again. Not to say we will ever be the same as we were before, definitely better, but not the same. Yet, I don't have to write every week to try to let people know what's going on in my heart and in our life. I don't have any new followers on here, no profound wisdom flowing from the most recent lesson learned in the grieving process, and that is ok. It means that grief has taken it's hardest toll and we are coming into a season of healing and renewal.


There are moments when I want to grab the world's attention and say "hey, don't you remember him?" "See him?" "See how amazing he was!" "See how handsome and perfect he was" "he died, remember????" "Still over here figuring out how life works when you had to bury your child" ..... Silence.


There are also moments when I want to remind people to hold their children tighter and to never take for granted the blessing of a healthy child. Some days my heart just aches because so many children in this world do not have someone to love them and I want to fix it all. I want every child to know and feel the love my son received, not just from myself or nick but from the masses of people who were touched by him. I want all of that love to somehow touch kids that don't have it. Lord, please.


So, my goal these days is to not feel guilty for not grieving all the time, for having more good days than bad, and for not trying make people remember him or that it happened to us. I want to be changed by him forever, yet I don't have to force all that's happened onto anyone and even myself. I don't have to always think about him or the life he lived. It doesn't dishonor him to move forward in life.


I still grieve. I always will. Every September. Every February. Every Mother's Day. Every holiday. Every normal day. Every day; in it's own way. It could be a small thing that brings up an ocean of tears onto a shore of memories. It could be anything. Most things make me think of him, but not all of those things make me want to curl up in a ball and weep anymore. I do not have as many days that I want to stay in bed and sleep all day.

There is too much life to live to wallow. He is still in my life, everyday. It's ok that he isn't a part of everyone else's.

Life is moving forward, getting brighter and easier to do.

Noah has been gone far longer than he was here. I'm learning that's how life will look like for awhile to come; until the next season of healing comes. Taking things a day at a time and knowing that because I am better at being me, I will never forget that boy or what he means to me.
The commotion has settled, the craziness of it all is about over and this momma is left here in this awkward silence.
Silence is hard for me. (Yes, Nick, I admit it. Mom and Dad, yes I know. Sorry I'm not sorry for the years of constant chatter haha!) Silence just is not my gift, it makes me awkward and uncomfortable. I want to pipe in, say something, fill the space and save the day. ha! This silence I am in the middle of is not one that I can pipe up in the middle of and really make it any less awkward. I have hit this place where people know (and lots of people don't know) that Noah lived and died. God and I don't have much to say on it anymore, I'm dealing less with the why and settling into the answers God has given me and am learning to surrender to them. This quietness is humbling. It's not about us anymore (it never was in terms of us ever choosing that this would happen), but things automatically become focal and all attention is drawn to your family/child because people are genuinely interested and want to pray and support, but also people are nosey. No one asks anymore and that IS OK. No one needs to. That is a place that I have prayed for, yet now that it is here, it can be lonely. I say this, not to draw attention to us, but to reach out to the ones who are dealing with this as well. I know that just because life is normal again for the world, it is not and will never be all the way normal for you. I understand that and know that our new normal will always have it's sting. Just know that someone understands this weird place and is going through it with you. Learn to reach out. I am trying to learn that. I cannot be self reliant when it comes to this grief thing and neither can you. Be encouraged and know that just because it seems as though people have forgotten and life has returned to normal, your loved one (especially children) are never truly forgotten and we as parents will never know the extent of how their lives and stories are reaching people. I'm certain that he is talked about and thought of more than I will ever actually know. I rest in that when the silence gets unbearable. Press on!
Noah's mommy