Grace. Guilt. Grief

I walked outside without a jacket today. I lowered my windows just a hair and let the warm breeze sep in. Spring. Here you come ready or not.

Although I’m happy to see the sun I’m also sad to see it come. Stick with me here.

The last 2 weeks have been HARD. I mean HARD. Depression has made a nest in my heart. And every morning I try to claw myself out of it. 

3 months on March 10th. 3 months. I’ve been a parent of a little boy in heaven. Month 1 I was a lot better than I ever expected I would be. Month two I felt like I had little glimpses of healing. But month 3.. man month 3. It’s hard for me to see good. It just really is. It’s hard to wake up and say it’s a good day and I’m going to be ok when I feel like neither thing is possible. The soundtrack of my life just keeps on playing. All the places are still the same as they were before December 10th. My routine is the same as it was before December 10th. But everything is different. Everything 

I had a c section with Elias. It was debated what I should do up until hours before he was born when they learned he was breached. The choice was made for me. I would go into surgery at 3:00 PM. I thanked God that I didn’t have to make the choice that seemed so impossible to make about how to rip my son out into the cold cruel world where I could no longer protect him. But with surgery comes healing. Actually a ton of healing. 

It wasn’t too bad of a healing process physically if I’m honest. And I 100% think that was a gift given from above. I also think I valued the healing process and did everything they said because the LAST thing I wanted to do was go back to the hospital reminding me of the nightmare I had just escaped. 

The first week after I gave birth my 3 year old Zeke  was in the hospital. I did very little walking. I did very little anything. Even when Zeke wanted me to pick him up as heart breaking as it was I said “no no.” Mommy’s belly hurts. I remember how useless it felt to not be able to take care of my child. But if I tried it would cause more damage to me, which ultimately meant more time I couldn’t take care of him.

The last day we were in the hospital they unhooked Zekes IV and it was GO TIME! They have little red wagons they let the St.Jude patients ride around in to get some fresh air (well.. kinda) and of course I was so down we walked around the long hall. Zeke was SO excited. So so excited I had total forgot that I was less that 2 weeks post surgery. We got to the middle of the hallway and out of nowhere I felt a sharp pain on my belly. “I have to sit. NOW.” Thankfully there were chairs in the hallway. I set gently in the armed chair and looked up.. wow. What a view. Those mountains. But why? Why did I have to stop? I remember being like wow. I’m still really fragile but.. I felt fine? I thought I was healing. When all of the sudden. Crash. Pain. Complete hault.

Today I had a session literally right next to the hospital that Zeke was in. There in an absolutely incredible view of the mountains. I parked me car and looked over at them. And thought of the hallway. And wondered why would bring that to mind.

Month 3 has been full of “hallway” moments. Where I’m living my life and BAM I can’t function, eat, sleep. And I have been SO DISCOURAGED. I have tried to do things that are healthy for me. Hang out with friends, go to the gym, go to the doctor all the things. But still it’s like some days are December 10th. All over again.

At first I got a sick feeling looking at the mountains. Such a dark time. Then I God brought something to the light.

Nothing I did could speed up my healing of surgery. In the beginning I couldn’t walk, then I couldn’t drive, then I couldn’t lift. But now I feel like nothing ever happened the only reminder left physically is the horizontal scar on my belly.

“It takes time.” I heard

I will be walking along when.. ouch a sharp pain.

Or I will do things I’m just not ready to do yet expecting to battle through when all the while- it’s just like my doctor said “if you push yourself too hard you will break your incision and cause yourself more harm.

Less guilt. More grace. More grace from God. More grace from my family. More grace on myself. Because If I push too hard.. it will cause more harm than good.

Month 3 has been a lot like sitting in the chair in the middle of the hallway 1 week after surgery. I am in pain brought on all the sudden.  The hallway is long and I don’t even know how I’m going to make it through the rest of the walk. It’s overwhelming. I feel out of control of my own body. But you know what? I made it. I got up after 5 minutes of December 10th pain. And now I can hike a mountain without the sharp pain. The scar still remains and catches my eye but I feel like “me” again.

I will always have the scar on my heart. But I will get up. And I will walk again. 

But today. Today I sit in the chair. Resting. Gathering my strength. And look to the mountains.