Sunday, February 21, 2010

The Past 6 months...

Today is the 6 month mark. Upon reflection, these past six months have been filled with such heart felt moments. No superficial feelings of loss or lonliness, just the draining, energy absorbing, sadness and longing for feeling differently, not necessarily better. 6 months ago I could not even identify a feeling that I was having. I couldn't discriminate, distinguish or even describe what was going on in my mind, and more importantly my heart. I was numb. I couldn't handle the question "how are you?". My therapist told my husband to just ask me "If I was having a feeling", that way all I had to do was answer yes or no. That was my cognitive level. I culdn't even do choices. Only yes/no questions. I think I felt like my life had no choices at the time. No control. No ability to change anything.

Now I do have choices. I can change, I am changing. Every day. I am able to even do "fill in the answer" types of questions regarding my feelings. Its not easy. It doesn't come easily. But its emerging. I can FEEL it. Thats a big change. I can feel once again. I can even feel excitement for things to come. I am beginning to have hope.

At my Jenny Craig weigh in today, I met a huge milestone. My response..."It's not real until it is sustained. I could wake up tomorrow and be no farther ahead than I am today." I think that statement is subconciously, now a bit more conciously, my driving force of acceptance to just be. Just be me today. Not the me of yesterday. Not the me of tomorrow. 4 months ago I couldn't do that. Shoot...I didn't even know who "me" was....But I now know that its my drive, my determination, my support system, my ability to choose how I feel, and miraculously, to look at what tomorrow may bring as "what may happen" vs. "what should happen". How do you even compare the loss of a child to the loss of weight. You don't. But I just did. A lot of "Butts" in this post. Hmmmmmm.

2 months ago, I stopped being able to write about my feelings. It was to hard to feel. Now that I could tell the difference between anger, sadness, frustration, love, enjoyment, peaceful, in turmoil, etc...I didn't want to feel the intesity of each emotion. One day, at my bible study, those wonderful woman got to feel all that pent up intensity in one shot. I needed that release, but didn't even know that I did. They knew. And they allowed me to let it all out. To let it all go. To open the door to moving forward. Thank you so much Kristie, Leehsa, Katy, Amy, Michelle. And thank you to God. I didn't know what I was missing, until I could feel it. Gods love. Sterlings love. Achored by Hope. http://anchoredbyhope.com/

Last month was all about me. Me finding out what I needed to do to move forward. To let go of my fears of what moving forward means. To really consider what moving forward means for me. To understand that moving forward does not always mean to let go. I wrote a letter to Baby Sterling and that was the only way that I finally was able to come to terms with what I was holding on to and what I needed to say/do/feel to honor him. I would like to share that letter. On this date, the 6 month anniversary of being born to heaven.

My Dearest Baby Boy,


I have written about you. I have written for you. I have written poetry because of you. But today, I write to you for the first time. My dear baby Sterling, you are so greatly missed. I know that you hear my prayers, I know that you can feel my love, yet I fear that I am holding in that which I owe to you. It breaks my heart to live with the fact that when you were born I could not bring myself to cradle you in my arms, to dress you, to feel your skin upon mine, to kiss your sweet lips. I was so afraid. I was afraid of facing the reality. From the first moment that I had the choice to see you, to hold you, to show you how much I cared, I didn’t. Throughout our bible study, which I believe you have been watching and guiding me through along with our Lord, I have been unable to face the guilt that I have felt for making those choices in those moments. There is nothing that I can do, other than to ask for forgiveness and ask the Lord to take the guilt and the pain away, and to tell you all the things that I need you to know so that I may let you go peacefully…for I seem to be holding on more than anything..to that which I DID NOT DO.

I am in a constant search for direction. Even though I am moving forward I am not leaving you behind. When I share my fears with your daddy, he tearfully says to me, “Sterling is where he belongs. With us. I am not ready to give his remains back to the earth, the sky or even the universe. I need him with us”. I understand that, yet I find strength in knowing that I have fully given you to our Lord. I trust in Him, I know that you are in a place safer than we could ever provide. I protected you for 8 months, and we will protect your honor, your memories, your existence, for the rest of our lives.

I met with a pastor this past week. I shared with him how I feel unworthy to be your mom. How I feel like I am paralyzed by my inactions. He clearly said that it is in Gods grace that I was able to do what I did, that I am able to do what I can now, and that will enable me to do what is ahead of me, as I follow His will. Faith is Trust. Trust in that God will always be there for me. That God has and will always be there for you and for our family. Worthiness is not a factor.

This is your gift to me, my dear boy. I have always known what I “need to work on”, but have never had the courage to truly face my fears and accept me for me. You have opened the door for me that I have held closed with lock and key for so very long. You have shown me not what I am not, but what I have the capacity to be. I have so much love for you, my son. I promise to release that love to you, and not only keep you close to my heart, but to let our love, a mothers love, free myself from the past. To allow myself to look forward. To have faith. To have hope. To have joy.

How do I stop writing this letter? I want to keep this going on and on and on….its amazing how something so hard to start, can be so hard to stop. I love you Sterling. Always.

Mom