Leaving 2012

I am both eager and sorry to be leaving 2012.

It is with hope but also with a very heavy heart that I stand at the edge of 2012 and gaze outward towards a new year. I look forward to the unknown opportunities that lay ahead, but at the same time 2013 feels so daunting. Out there in the abyss of the future, I anticipate all that the new year expects of me and at my core, I feel so distressed. The pressure to make this new year a better one is overwhelming and I can't help but worry that more disappointments await me in 2013. I don't know if I have the strength to endure another year of loss and pain, and I'm not prepared to face any more hardship.

2012 has been the most devastating year of my life, but also the most extraordinary and easily the most life-changing. It's the year Gabriel was here with me, but also the year he was taken.

There is so much I wish I could go back and change about this past year, and I hope that there are cleansing waters in the new year that will wash away some of these feelings of regret and guilt.

In 2012, I became pregnant for the first time. I became a mother and my husband became a father. The first 6 1/2 months of 2012 were a sacred gift. I look back upon those days with more joy than words can adequately describe. The last 5 1/2 months were the most difficult and possibly the darkest of my life. We spent those days letting go of our son, remembering him in every way we could think of, and treasuring the memories we have of him. In so many ways, the last 5 1/2 months are just as meaningful as the first 6 1/2. Now that they're over, I'm sad to be walking away from all 12 months.

In 2013, I would love to become pregnant again. But of course I fear another loss and I worry that a healthy baby is not part of God's plan for us. I fear failure. I fear death. I fear that we will not be blessed and that the stork will fly past our home. I fear what will happen to my heart if that were to happen. And I want. I want another baby. I want to hold and nourish a brand new life. I want to feel those precious and beautiful kicks. But mostly, I hope. I hope that 2013 will be a year I can always look back on as the year we were blessed with a healthy baby. I hope that 2013 is a happy year. I hope.

I look back over the past year and I can't help but feel like my life stood still for an entire year. I don't see any progress, any accomplishments, any goals attained. I turned 30 in 2012 and I hate that I am nowhere near where I thought I would be at the age of 30. I thought I would have more (living) children by now. I thought I would be in the middle of a career, instead of at the end of one and the beginning of another. I thought 30 would be a good year, an easy year, a simple, normal, average year. Instead, I've learned that it's not enough to think, to expect, to want, to plan. Life is a giant curve ball. There is so little we have control over. And that is the lesson I have learned in 2012.

In 2013, I will be taking the first steps towards the above-mentioned new career. I am plenty motivated, but have so many deep-seated worries and part of me doesn't believe I can achieve what I've set out to do. I'm not sure why I have these doubts, but I pray that in time, they will be replaced with courage and some kind of understanding that I have made the right choice. I hope that this new career helps me to heal and that it forever serves to remind me of who I have become because Gabriel was once here. I trust that the Lord will help me realize this dream and that he has placed it on my heart with good reason.

In 2013, I see the potential for so many wonderful things and my heart is filled with faith. I am grateful that God has allowed us another year. I know it is a gift.

But still, how can I not be sad to leave my sweet little baby behind in 2012. This was his year and it pains me to see it end. I worry that as time ticks on, the world will forget him and that my memories will slowly fade. They're all I have left of him and I can't bear the thought of even them being stolen from me. I pray that I will never ever forget the details and moments that made 2012 so special.

I wish I could stay here a little longer. Reflect and soak in the past year for a few more days. Can't I just linger here in the transition from the year I had with Gabriel and the year that offers new hope and new life? Can't I stand with one foot firmly planted in 2012 and the other hesitantly hovering over the cusp of 2013? Can't time just stop and give those of us who lost our precious children in 2012 a little more time to remain behind?

Because I'm not sure that I'm quite ready to leave yet.


~Remembering Gabriel and all the babies who left this world in 2012. The past may hold the days they were here with us, but the future holds the eternity that we will spend with them in Heaven.~

 

This Little Dream of Mine

Today I registered for my first class.

Since I'm a new student, I think my registration date was towards the end, so there weren't a lot of classes available. I'm also unsure of exactly which classes I should be taking and in which order, so in January, I will need to schedule a meeting with a counselor to get more information. But since today was my registration date and classes fill up quickly, I had to sign up for something.

So...

The only class I was able to register for was Computer Systems, which seems like it will be easy enough and I suppose it is relevant to my major (Diagnostic Medial Sonography). Even if it's boring, it's a requirement, and at least now I'll be able to get it out of the way early on. I'm also wait-listed for Biology which I'm praying I get into... I really need that class. It's a pre-requisite for several other classes that I would like to take in the Fall. Just in case I don't get into Biology, I also wait-listed for Human Communication which sounds awful, but again it's required and I may as well try to get it out of the way now. I'd hate to just take one class, so let's all cross our fingers that someone decides to drop Biology (and that they decide to remove Human Communication from the list of required classes).

I am really excited and even a little relieved to have started this process...at least to have gotten the ball rolling to making this little dream of mine slowly become a reality. I know there's a very long road ahead of me and I will have to dedicate the majority of the next 2-3 years to classes and studying, but for now I'm just going to take a deep breath and focus on taking it one day at a a time. I will have plenty of opportunities in the future to feel completely overwhelmed and freak out. Today is all about realizing that dreams only come true if you're willing to do what it takes to work for them. It's not going to be easy, but I really want this and I'm truly looking forward to all that this experience forces out of me.

This little dream of mine is inspired by Gabriel and I shall carry him in my heart every step of the way.

It officially begins February 4, 2013!

I hope you're all looking forward to reading stories about my Computer Systems class :)

The Beach

Last summer, before we even considered having children, we went to the beach one beautiful, sunny afternoon. I remember seeing a family... mom, dad and a sweet little baby girl. She was probably about ten months old - just big enough to sit up and play, but not able to walk yet. Her mom had dressed her in the cutest baby bikini and a little hat to protect her face from the sun. The little girl's parents took turns playing with her and she couldn't stop laughing and smiling. I remember thinking to myself that we would have that ourselves one day. And that when that day came, my life would be perfect.

Six months later, I was pregnant. Throughout my pregnancy I couldn't help thinking of that little baby girl at the beach. I imagined taking my own baby to the beach and watching his eyes light up when I built him a sand castle and seeing his face reveal uncontrollable glee when I dipped his little toes into cool ocean waves.

After we found out that our baby was not going to survive, I still dreamed of taking him to the beach. I could picture him squinting as a cloud drifted out from under the sun. I could taste his salty skin as I kissed his chubby cheeks. I could hear him giggling at the sight of seagulls running after one another. I just couldn't stop dreaming about the day we would visit the beach as a family, even if that day only existed in my mind.

We went only once to the beach when I was pregnant, and the day was gloomy. Even the beach was sad for my loss... for the events it would never have the chance to witness.

One month and one day after Gabriel died, we returned to the beach. It was a little cloudy, but often the sun would shine through the clouds. We wrote Gabriel's name in the sand with little shells and released three white balloons for him. The wind swallowed up the balloons immediately, but somehow they lingered barely within sight and we watched them for almost ten minutes, before we had to accept that they too, were somewhere out there, but we'd never see them again.

I made peace with the beach that day. Its waves had taken my tears. Its wind had carried my prayers. Somewhere along the way, it had become a special place.

Gabriel would never touch the sand, nor the sea. He would never chase a seagull or gather seashells along the shore. He would never feel the heat of the sun or the chill of a salty breeze. But the beach will always remind me of him. It will always be a place of precious memories of events that never occurred and dreams that never made the leap into reality. It will be a beautiful reminder of what could have been if Gabriel lived, and what has remained behind even though he has died.

The waves will crash, the sun will set, the birds will fly. Gabriel won't ever watch the graceful motions of the beach, but I will, and I'll think of him whenever I do.

I will think of his salty cheeks. His uncontrollable giggles. His wet little toes...

And how much I wish I could have him back for just one sunny afternoon.

Heaven has beaches, right?