sometimes, when I slip...
It's so frustratingly true that sometimes despite my best attempts to catch myself before the crash, and despite my efforts to forestall the big ker-splat, yes, despite all that it's true that sometimes, when I slip... I fall.
I slipped today. As soon as I got outta bed, before I even took my first step really.
I slipped and I fell all the way down, down, down.
I slipped in to the place where I felt, again, what it was like to have my first miscarriage, to not have any children yet and to not know for sure that there were little souls waiting for me to birth in to being.
It was a scary, lonely place to be, one minute pregnant and the next not. To know that there was no one who could really mourn with you or as long or hard as you because the baby you loved and whispered secrets to and allowed yourself to attach to, that same very real being for you was just an idea for everyone else.
And ideas they can sometimes slip, too easily, from the mind.
I slipped, I think, because it was Mother's Day yesterday and I love my boys so very much and am so very blessed to be loved by them and I allowed myself to wonder what it would be like to have more little souls to love. And you can't do that kind of wondering, in my case, with out considering the facts.
And the facts, for me, pretty much suck.
And so I slipped first on the miscarriages, the ones before I had Ty, there were two, and then picked up momentum as I slid down the ectopic pregnancy and bumped against the emergency surgery that followed, before Sean's birth, and I finally landed hard on the miscarriage I had just this last summer.
I fell. Hard.
I didn't want to, and I had no intention to as I opened my eyes and thought what a glorious looking day, and listened to the birds who were just beginning to wake. But I guess that's how a really good fall happens.
Without warning. When you least expect it. When you are least likely to brace yourself for impact.
I really had no plans of getting up from the fall in any sort of a hurry either. But the pitter patter of the sweetest of little feet followed by the untiring searching of little hands under the mound of pillows I had buried my self under-- well, that kind of pulled me up quick. And the cuddling and cooing that followed and the humming of little songs from little memories-- well, those set me right.
And I remembered... I have these beautiful boys.
Hope for me, if you would...
I'm making my way to a place where slips don't come so easy.
I'm getting ready to stand, again.
Oh, and here's this little prayer of a song for those who fall.