Mindless.

I took the children to church yesterday, and it went well, for the most part. I find myself often seated close by where a couple comes in late with a new baby boy, who is probably 8 weeks old. He's beautiful. And so immensely sweet. He reminds me of my own boys at that age. I wish I could scoop him up and cry over all that I lost with my Isaac, but instead I find myself squirming in my seat, and wishing I could run out of church. Because really, I know in my mind that is unacceptable behavior, but my heart just still cannot help it.

And then there was the second speaker yesterday. A young man in his mid thirties, he has 4 children, with one on the way. His wife has never miscarried or ever had a pregnancy or infant loss of any sort. I appreciated the spirit in which his message was delivered, but I would have liked to have argued my point. He started his talk off about prayer and faith. He talked about not being prideful, and he spoke about service. He ended his talk with a story about a woman with children, who was fleeing her native land. Through her journey, each and everyone of her children died. Each grave was dug with a spoon, which was all the woman had in her possession. Her last child that died, was a baby. The woman had lost her spoon, and had to dig her last baby's grave with her fingers, in the frozen ground. The story ended with the woman finding strength in Christ when she knew she had lost all that she had. God bore her up. I get the story, and the point. But the thing that bothered me was when the speaker said that no matter how large our trials are, there is always someone who has it worse. That someone suffers more, that it can get worse. But what comfort does that give to a grieving parent, who feels like it CANNOT get worse? That they truly have been pushed to the breaking point? That they feel like they gave the ultimate sacrifice, in accepting God's will for the deceased child? I have suffered many things. I suffered not having enough to eat as a child, we stole food to eat. We didn't have beds, or enough clothing. My mother turned tricks in Alaska when my father left us. We were not safe. We were molested. When my father had another chance to raise us, he bailed on us, giving us to his best friend, who turned out to be a child molester. My mother had another chance, too, she ran away in the middle of the night. We were adopted by parents who failed. By a man whose life was run by an abusive and dominant woman. She beat us up. They gave us no freedom. We had no toys, no tv, no phone, we could not have friends or play outside. We were told we were trash on a regular basis, and that she hated us. I have struggled my entire adult life to rise above the start I had in life. I have very few family relationships. I'm screwed up. I have been so fortunate to be married, but my husband also has a chronic disease. WE KNOW SUFFERING. For us, it really can't get much worse. We'd have to lose a grown child, or Andrew and I would have to lose each other. So while other people HAVE worse trials, and we have so MUCH to be thankful for, I've had a shitload of trials to get through during my life time, too. Preaching to someone that it can get worse. NO SHIT. I fear that the most, when I have already suffered more than most people understand.

And the thing that made me the saddest? When we were leaving my son turned to me and said: "Mama, who tells stories like that in front of a family that has a dead brother?? It made me really sad." And I told him, while trying NOT to cry, that the man really didn't understand. That if he knew it would hurt us, he would not have told the story. And that's really the truth of the matter. People don't know what it's like. They don't know what it's like to have a body go limp in your arms, and feel the chilling sting of a dead body. They don't understand the trauma and the places your mind goes to. They didn't know while telling that story that my children and I were thrown back to that moment when we lived that, too.

I wish people weren't so mindless, or perhaps even had just a little bit bigger of a heart.

One Sunday down, so many more to go.

Crass.

Well, Friends, I was able to drag my butt back to church yesterday. And it went ok. There were a lot of friendly faces, and then there were a lot of faces I would have loved to have NOT seen. There were your normal crass jokes and comments about pregnancy - - people who take it for granted think it's funny to make poor tasting jokes. And then the gossip. The who is pregnant and who is not. The gossip about who is making it clear they are not happy to be pregnant, which, to me, is a total insult to my sensitivities, not to mention mocking the God given blessing and opportunity to grow a baby and your family. (good run on sentence right there) Parenting is hard - pretty much. Young children are hard - pretty much. Life is hard - pretty much. I find it so offensive to listen to people bitch about motherhood and pregnancy. I find all it demonstrates is selfishness and taking your life and family for granted. I bet if one of those women had a dead baby or a deformed baby, they might think twice about it. And I really feel badly for the MANY women who have lost pregnancies, or babies, or can't even conceive in the first place. They sit there, church meeting after church meeting, and have to listen to that crap. It drives me nearly mad. I find that church caters to the blissful side of believing in a God and Savior. The focus is on miracles and answered prayer. There is not a lot of support for those who are struggling, for those that need baring up. There's a whole lot of social jibber jabber going on, and not a lot of paying attention to the true message of the gospel. You know, the part where we're supposed to learn to live more like Jesus. Whatever. People just don't get it. They know not what they do.

The children really enjoyed their primary classes (Sunday school). Olivia did really well, although was frustrated she did not know many of the songs the kids were singing. Hannah had a lot of school friends in her class - - she sure is growing into such a young lady. And Ian liked his class, although he seems a little more shy about it. The kids came home with good attitudes, and I feel accomplished that I did this HARD thing! And we'll go back next Sunday, and hopefully again and again. I think I can do this. I know I can, thick skin forming along the way.

My week is the normal busy busy. Work, clean, cook, parent - - rinse, repeat. Over and over again. I may have lost a baby, but all the dreams I had as a child for my life have come true. To be a mother. To be married to a good man. To have my own home. To have freedom and peace in my life. Praise God for those blessings, I am truly grateful.

For now we keep on living. Living with most of my family with me, and part of my family missing. My children are loved, and Isaac is loved and remembered. I am, at the very least, thankful to know where he is.


Until next time.

Misty

Resolute.

I'm not a New Years resolution kind of girl. Mainly because I break them all before January 1st is even over. This year I've been reflecting on some changes I'd like to make, though, without the added pressure of calling them resolutions.

My goal this year is to be more present in my life. The last two years of repetitive losses has been extremely hard on me, I really cannot explain it. I've been alive, but not living as well as I would like to. While I have gotten into the swing of day to day life having a dead baby, and failing at pregnancy, I want to be a better mother, I KNOW I need to be a better mother. A better wife. A better friend. I want to invest more into living without worrying if I'll lose out again. I want to be a better me. More fully available to those I love. It's time to re-enter the land of the TRULY living.

I've decided to accept the things about me that make me ME, without worrying if someone else understands. I am OK being apart of the NIELSON family - - the "anti-social family". I love my family. I love our extremely private life. I love life without feeling obligated to make someone else approve. I don't care if I don't fit in. I don't feel pressure to be part of the mold other people want to squish me into. I know who I am, I'm OK with it. I'm good with the few friends I have, I don't feel like I need to get into the rat race and try to be liked by everyone. It's not my style, and it's a waste of time. People that over extend themselves in human relationships are excusing themselves from really truly getting to know someone well, well enough to be a really good friend with them. I'll take my one or two friends over a handful of acquaintances any day. Lesson learned. I ended some friendships last year that needed to be ended. It was a long time coming. I learned to trust more fully in my gut feelings. These relationships we not good fits for me, but got beaten to death over and over again. Too exhausting. Too much drama and emotional baggage. I am glad to be done.

I want to help my family grow in the gospel this year. Which means a more concentrated effort in providing a peaceful environment in my home. It means more patience, more love, more time for teaching. It means watching my mouth and attitude. It means daily prayer and scripture reading. It means (dreaded) church attendance. Those are all things that are essential to the well being of our family. This is our year. Our year to get back into the game. It's time, even if it's something that is hard for me.

So, tell me. Where are you at? What is important to you this year?

Here's to 2011. Here's to having the faith to BELIEVE blessings are coming our way.

If you're aware of my secret blog, follow me over there. We have more to talk about.



Love, Misty