Arm Chair Philosophers

I remember when a friend of found out her baby had spina bifida, one of the things she said was difficult was that people you never would normally discuss philosophy with were all of a sudden sharing their life and death thoughts with you.  It is funny because I remembered her saying this almost right after we found out about Micah.  I knew the onslaught of arm chair philosophers was coming.

And so they came with their platitudes mostly:

"Don't worry, God will never give you more than you can handle."  Really?  Then why do people shoot up shopping malls after a break up or drown their children because of postpartum?  Apparently their lives were more than they could handle.

"It is just God's way, there must have been something wrong with the baby."  Really?  God kills children who have physical or mental disabilities?  Because I have met children (and adults) who have those and they look very much alive.

"It will get better with time."  You're right.  I should just solider through; the death of a child is no big deal; inert time will heal all.

I know these people meant well, but I wonder if they have ever really been tested in their lives.  I just don't think that someone who has been through extreme pain or loss would say something like that.  At least not someone who has really thought about what they are going through instead of burying the pain in sayings that sound good but don't really make logical sense.

Luckily, the people closest to me, the ones I would and have talked philosophy with, are old souls-if they have not experienced such pain in this life, they must have in past ones-or they just understand somehow.  They get it.  I am so glad I have them as my friends.

The memory hole

Sometimes I come across these memories of Micah in my mind.  I remember good things (and some bad too) and I am not always sure what to do with them.  I think our minds categorize memories into little pockets: good ones and bad ones, or maybe more accurately happy ones and sad ones.  We put the happy ones at the front of the pile and protect ourselves by putting sad ones in the back-more hidden away in a place we really have to think to access.  The hard part about losing someone (I think) is that the memory storage gets messed up.  I have happy memories with Micah (seeing him on the first ultrasound, finding out he was a boy, etc...) so these memories are on the top of the memory pile, but the problem is, they still hurt.   It is human nature to run from pain, but it is not necessarily bad for us to experience that pain, I know that...it is still difficult.  My natural reaction is still to try to put those memories at the bottom of the pile-to tuck them away and not experience them any more-but I don't want to do that.  I miss Micah and I want those happy memories to be happy.  So, I work every day to let myself experience the happy parts of each memory and feel happy while thinking of those times.

The more difficult and actually sad memories (finding out he no longer had a heartbeat and...well, everything that happened after that) are still hard to experience.  Sometimes I slip them from the bottom of the pile and feel them just a little before I put them back under.  I am not sure what a healthy leave of experience is for these memories.  I know I cannot live in them.  They cannot be at the top of the pile. All I know is I do with them what I think is best: acknowledge without letting them control and that feels right for now.

The list I could not complete....

For the first time in a long time (well, since April 15th to be exact) I feel happy.  It is not that I don't miss Micah or that I don't grieve every day for the baby I will never hold in my physical arms-it is not at all that. It is, in fact, that I am happy for what I do have now in my life.  I have realized I cannot change the past.  For a while, I played the "What If" game.  There is nothing but fear regret when one plays that game.  It is a dangerous game with no winner.

I think we have a choice.  It is not only a choice to fight like hell for what we want our lives to be, it is also a choice to embrace the beautiful things in our lives.  I have many beautiful things-I am blessed.  I remember a journal entry from about a month after we found out Micah had died. I tried to "look on the bright side" and list my blessings.  The list is blank.  I couldn't do it.  No matter how I tried, my grief was so big that it overshadowed the positives.  It is not that my grief is not longer a part of my life, I am pretty sure it will always be with me, but I now feel like I have wrestled the grief dragon and put it in a cage.  It no longer controls me.  I am not afraid of it.  It does not spew fire onto everything around me.  Sure, the dragon sometimes rears its head when I least expect it, but I know I can wrestle it in and win.

Here is the journal entry I could not complete before:

I am grateful for the following things (in no particular order and this is not all of the things that are beautiful in my life):
-Todd-all the time and for all he is and does for me
-Zach-such an amazing little man-smart and kind and funny
-Family
-Girlfriends who have chosen to be my sisters
-All of my friends
-My home
-My garden
-The circle of people who have surrounded and loved me over the last 4 months
-Exercise-the kind that feels good from the top of my body to the bottom
-Coffee (both hot and iced)
-Wine (mostly red)
-Hope


These are certainly not all of the things, but are the ones that rolled right off the top of my head.  I am sure I could sit here all day and list more (but alas nap time is almost over).  I am so glad I have fought my way to a place where I can list these things that make me so happy.  It has not been an easy journey and it certainly is not over (is it ever), but I see progress and I want to keep going. I have not done it alone, and if you are reading this, you are probably a part of my journey, so I just want to say "Thank you." I cannot imagine life without you.