I have been so cared for, this past weekend.
In spite of my insistence that it was ‘Merica’s fault in the first place, I can only consider it redeemed by the surprising and delightful levels of compassion and looking-after from its inhabitants (the ones in my ken, anyway (and I’m aware that I’ve also received care and attention from those beyond US borders, and I am hugely grateful to them, too, but let’s just stay ‘Merica-centric for a while, if we may)) and am delighted to know so many absolutely wonderful people.
They made it wonderful.
Nothing about miscarriage is easy. You don’t forget those, either.
And when there’s a huge, scary reminder on the horizon, that so many around you are parents, and that there’s this special day for your friends to be recognised for their contribution to motherhood, to share the joy that is their children, and to acknowledge their children’s joy in them, yes – it re-opens the wounds and rubs salt into them.
But it’s not the end of the world. Not yet. Not with a year of this under my belt.
A year of falling apart; drowning in grief at frequent intervals; wondering if I’ll ever get past this; getting hit by sneaker waves of hurt and despair and longing…
A year of being gently picked up and put back together; of being rescued by my lifeboat friends; of having my fears acknowledged and receiving loving advice and input; of finding that in those uncertain, sudden moments of devastation, someone was always there to help…
I don’t pretend I’m over it – not even to myself. I bought the books, so that I can finally own my contribution to hope and help for other grieving mothers. I did a couple of small things for people who needed the help. I found peace for a weekend, and it was bliss – I know that there will be further waves in my future.
On the other hand, my friends will be there, too, helping me to weather my storms, even as I help them to face theirs.
Three Things of Worthwhile
i – I have been found trustworthy
ii – I was able to NOT assume a guilt which wasn’t mine, today
iii – I have considerable willpower, when I try
Talking of lists, Laura began a wonderful new creative writing blog-hop over at Feral Little Secrets, and I wanted to join in with the 100 word story.
It belongs as part of this post because her prompt was to make a list of things we’ve seen today, and when I thought, the thing I thought most about was the weather (physical and emotional) which I’ve seen today.
- Foreboding plateaus of dark clouds
- Glorious chinks of bright blue
- Dazzling sunshine
- Serenity, in an elderly face
- A tempest of frustration, in Husby’s face (*raises hand* my fault, apparently)
- The calm of waves, ever breaking, retreating, renewing, re-breaking (what? YouTube counts)
- Lashing rain, hurling itself at the earth
- The limitless, vaulted heavens of freedom
The story (100 words)
The sky split open above her bed, lightning turning the walls to blinding white, with a maze of cracked shadows which didn’t belong in her bedroom. Thunder rolled so loud she could feel its reverberations, and her screams were inaudible above the noise of the heavens caving in.
Somehow her mother heard, and came running, braving the flashes of light and shaking floors.
Wrapped together, heartbeats thrumming like rabbits’, they gradually calmed – told each other the rain couldn’t break the windows; the clouds wouldn’t fall; there would be sun tomorrow. They were safe.
They slept, even before it had faded.