Another Project Begins

Tuesday October 1, 2013

Hello darling babies,

Today marks the beginning of another Capture Your Grief, an online project started by a grieving mother.  I participated last year, and thought about maybe taking each day's posts and turning them in to a book on Shutterfly or one of those other websites that allows you to design your own book.  Almost one year has passed since that project ended and I have not  done so.  Just one more thing I put off while mired in my grief.  Today's Capture Your Grief post was, of course, Sunrise.  Sunrise is symbolic of the beginning of a new day.  For some reason, I'm feeling a new beginning today.

I walked your canine siblings this morning.  It's finally getting to that time of year where there is at least a bit of a chill in the Arizona air early in the day.  I should have been walking both of you as well, or at least pushing you in your stroller.  A twin stroller we never purchased.  That would have been quite a feat, me managing to control the dogs on their leashes while pushing you in your stroller.  That would have been very challenging, but somehow, I like to think I could have made it work.

As we were on our way over to the park, I had a flashback so real, all because of a song playing on satellite radio, Billy Idol's Cradle of Love.  That song instantly took me back to my days at Baylor.  I think I bought that song as a cassette single.  My mind's eye produced a very vivid memory of me driving through the Baylor campus in my black Cougar that your great-grandmother Mary purchased for me, blasting that song as loud as it would go, probably driving a bit too fast, rocking out to the beat.  I have always liked loud music and fast driving.  Then, I had one very poignant thought......

Humility.  Humility was my thought.  I realized that it's been rare when I've practiced humility of any sort.  There were times when I struggled with confidence, especially in the early years and the "awkward" preteen years, but I don't think I ever struggled with humility.  I simply cast it aside, as it was something I felt I didn't need.  I was convinced I was pretty, well-dressed, funny, financially comfortable, smart, in general, better than most others.  I realize now how wrong I was to place such value in such shallow virtues.  I think there is a fine line between self-confidence and hubris.  I want to be quietly self-confident that I am, in fact, enough.

I want to be the best wife and mother I can be.  I realize that sounds contradictory to the last paragraph, but when I say "Best" I don't mean it in an ultra-competitive way, as if I were seeking the blue ribbon for motherhood.  I'm saying that being the best means I'm providing for our family, I'm careful with our resources, I'm acting in a way that produces no regrets.  I want to stop being so judgmental.  I feel I've taken some tiny steps toward building a better me, but I still battle so many of my old demons.  I unfortunately am not mothering living children, but I'm trying to do a better job of taking care of myself, the house, your Daddy and your canine siblings.

I watched The Long Island Medium (Theresa Caputo) this morning on Live with Kelly and Michael.  Theresa was giving a reading to an hysterical woman in the audience whose sister had died.  Theresa was telling the woman that she needs to let go of any guilt she feels about having disappointed her sister (apparently, there was some issue where the woman was trying to raise the deceased sister's children and was unable to do so).  Letting go of the guilt doesn't mean you have to let go of the person's memory.

That's what I would like to do.  I would like to be able to let go of the negative guilt feelings I associate with your conception, the time we spent together during the pregnancy, and your far too-short lives.  That negative energy is doing no good, neither for my reproductive health, your Daddy, our marriage nor my sanity.

Shelby and Dalton, I hope you knew how much you were loved in your days with us, and of course, how much we still and always will love you.  There will never be a family holiday or a trip or an adventure when I don't think of how much you would bring to that specific event if you were here with us, but, please help me let go of the guilt.

Forever,
Momma