Jan. 29, 2011

There are times I expect to be reminded of my loss. Times I know will be hard for me to get thru. And there are times that take me off guard. Today felt melancholy and a little scary, but I didn't understand why. I had a meeting to go to for my scrapbook consulting business, but I go to one every 3 months or so. I didn't realize what was making me anxious about this meeting until I got there. As we sat down and did introductions I trying not to stare across the table at the lady who had brought her baby with her. Then I remembered the previous meeting just a month before James was born and the other pregnant gal there.

At the time I had thought she and I would be able to sympathize with each other about how hard it was to stay on top of even a small business when you had such a big time taker. I had wondered, with our due dates being so close, which of us would deliver first. I had left looking forward to the next meeting and to showing off my little one. But my life was so different than I had expected. My happy expectations only served to remind me of my unhappy reality.

I didn't want to be there, I didn't want to see these people who didn't know my pain, I didn't want anyone to ask, I didn't want no one to remember, I didn't want a reminder of what I am missing.

I try so hard to never think of the what ifs because what if will never be but today was hard when I saw the one if sitting right across from me.

January 1st, 2011

At the start of the new year people always look back at the year gone by. They list the good memories, those they would rather forget, the funny things that happened, and what they will remember most. When the year is full of such pain and heart break the only thing that would be worse than looking back is forgetting. I never want to forget how I felt when I held my son for the first time or for the last. The two memories are so close together that to try and forget one I would have to try and forget both.

The other day I remembered praying when I was just a little girl, nine maybe, that I could see Heaven in my dreams. I remember so vividly asking God, "even if I don't remember in the morning, it must be so wonderful that I would always be happy to have even glanced at it." Strange, now I want to know for just an instance that James is indeed happy and Heaven is in fact as wonderful for him as I had imagined. I wonder if he will know me when I go there too. Will I be "mom"? Jesus' word on the cross to John were for His earthly mom, so a mother must be important, right?