Reflecting on 2017, and Wishing I Wasn’t

Since about mid-December, I’ve been reflecting on the year. Its a very natural thing to do around this time of year, as one measured year comes to an end, and a fresh, new time is upon us. Or, me, I guess. Maybe of us want to open the new year as a clean slate. This year, its been really difficult to keep my reflections rational. I’ve been putting in the effort, aiming to be very logical and self aware, but it is HARD.

I don’t have a clean slate coming in 2018.

I like to come out of a year, looking past the hard times, and picking out the victories! The wins! The positives! And gains. And while I KNOW there have been those; I choose to BELIEVE there have been positives this year, I cannot pinpoint them for the life of me. I am struggling hard to see past our losses, and our grief. It has clouded over everything. What else have we accomplished this year?? Nothing. We have simply survived. Barely, it feels.

I have to remember that, just because this year is ending, it doesn’t mean that everything of this year has to come to a close also. Thats been the trickiest part of these reflections for me.

Just because 2017 is ending, it doesn’t mean I have to be done grieving my sons.

I remember who I was last Christmas. We were all sick, but I was happier. I was coping better with our illness. I was ok. I feel like I am so much worse of a person now than I was then, and just typing it out breaks my heart and has me in tears. Because I don’t want to be this way. Yet, I have to remember that I am not really on the other side of this yet. I’m not at all done grieving. Life has kept moving forward, and I am coping, but I am not finished. Maybe I truly am a worse person right now, but maybe once I’m through a little bit more of this, I will slowly improve again. I hope so, anyway.

When Laela was born in the fast, scary way she was, people told me I was so strong, and so brave. And it would actually make me angry, because I knew I wasn’t. I feel the same way now. I am not brave, and I am not strong. If I had actually been given the choice, I would’ve chosen basically ANY other outcome than what I ended up with. Not ONCE did I make the choice to be “strong” or “brave.” But I was just stuck with what I got. I HAD to push through and go forward, whether I was brave, or scared shitless. Whether I was strong, or I was so weak I couldn’t keep my eyes open when doctors and nurses were talking to me. I LOST, guys. And I HATE that.

Brady has been able to talk me off my ledge a little. If this whole year was offset by, say, six months, would I feel just as crazy? No, probably not. Because I wouldn’t be reflecting on this all so hard, expecting my emotions to be in better shape. If it wasn’t December, I wouldn’t be analyzing this all so hard. But the natural year end paired with the Christmas festivities have been quite challenging on my heart, as my arms positively ache to hold my Theo, or to feel Jamin kick me in the ribs as I try to be helpful putting Christmas together.

I would have delivered Jamin in just a few weeks from now. Instead, I grieve HARD for two little boys I lost this year, while consciously working around the clock to NOT live in anxiety, waiting for the little baby in my womb to die. I question “when” rather than “if.” Its not a good mindset, I know. I try to talk myself around it, but it is literally impossible for me to not go there at all. But like I said. I’m weak, and I’m scared. I can’t take much else.

I’ve said it a million times. Its been a big year. Please be gentle.