Thursday, November 18, 2010

The Bright Spot {Bigger Picture Moments}

Welcome to Bigger Picture Moments, a weekly writing meme where we breathe in the moments that paint a picture of the grander scheme. All moments are welcome in this space -- small or large, as community is just as important as the grander awareness brought on by searching for a bigger picture every week.

Please head over to Sarah's to share you moment, big or small, and be inspired by others. 

Today is a hard day.

I feel broken.

I am tired, sore, stressed, worried, overwhelmed. There are so many things swirling in my head right now I am hoping that this comes out coherent to someone, anyone, if only one person. The fact that I feel this right now, knowing its going to get harder terrifies me.

It has been a long week. I am crispy from all my responsibilities. Yet, I can’t seem to find the words to say that, to ask for help or to make a change. It seems selfish because as crispy as I am? My husband is fried 10times more. We are treading water in rough seas and it’s exhausting.

Today for example. I have been up since roughly 1:30 am. My daughter is sick again. I alternate between extreme worry that she is having a serious immune system issue to being aggravated at everyone. Friends, family, school, germs her. Please just do what will make you feel better. Sleep! Eat! Take your medicine!

Then I feel horrible and guilty, she is 3. How can I expect her to control her emotions when at 33 I can’t control mine. Especially, when I am tired, hungry, and not feeling 100%? So at 1:30 I let her climb on top of me. Where for 2 hours I held her as she coughed in my face and tried to keep her calm. I think she dosed off around 3:30. I think I slept from 4:30 until my alarm went off at 5:15. By that time she had turned herself around, head on my baby belly feet alternating between my face and my husbands. She kicked me, the baby kicked me and all I wanted to do was roll over so I could feel my arm again. No one tells you how physically abusive being a mother can be!

At 6:30 as I lay there listening to her breathe, trying to determine if she sounds wheezy or congested, trying to put out of my head the worry of all the horrible things I saw while working at a hospitals, my son starts crying for me. He has had a nightmare, we buried his sister because she fell and scraped her knee. Sigh, he is so much like me he worries in his dreams too. So we hug and we cuddle and I bring him to his now awake sister to show him that everyone is alive we are all still here and I desperately try to get 20 more minutes of pseudo* sleep.

The morning went down hill from there. Yelling, fighting, crying, complaining. Sadly almost more from me then the kids. I was tired. I was overwhelmed. Emotions are running high, not just because of the pregnancy. We’ve had to talk a lot about death this week. I had thought as this pregnancy progressed past his I would start to feel at peace and I just get sadder. What would it be like, what would we be doing. Does anyone else think about him, wonder. I want to talk to my husband but I sometimes feel like I am hanging on too hard, making this “too big a deal”. We are blessed, we are having another child. I should focus on that and not on the poor little boy that we lost.

I am just left feeling like the crumpled leaves blowing in the cold November wind.

So here I am.

I have dropped everyone off, despite her protest that her cough is to bad (her teachers said it was fine they will call me. No fever, there is nothing more I can do). I drive home determined to turn this day around. To purge my tears and anger and sadness on my keyboard (maybe hit publish) and move on. I get out of the car and see this:

My rose is blooming.

I haven’t seen this flower in months. It was buried under 4 foot high cosmos for most of the end of summer. It has spent weeks buried under their carcasses.

But there it is.

With new life and color trying to give it’s all before it’s buried under the blankets of snow. A bright spot of yellow, hope, life, among the dreary and dying.

God only promises a safe landing not a smooth journey

It’s a long journey.  Every minute of every day a chance to take a step forward, be like that rose and give it my all. To be the bright spot. To make it my best. Or a chance to step back focus on that is wrong all around.

I’m going to focus on the yellow. I’m going to turn this day around and give it my all. To be that bright spot of yellow, hope, life.

* do you pseudo sleep? I do it for hours at a time sometimes, my eyes are closed, my breathe and body appear to be asleep they are slow to respond. My mind, a million miles an hours so that I am not really resting but not really awake. It’s not restorative at all.


Rebekah C said...

*big, gentle hugs* They don't mean much, hugs on a computer screen. But I wanted you to know that I heard you. Love, Mama, to you and yours. Enjoy your yellow promises!

Katie Gates said...

Stopping over from SITS... this post captured me and kept me engaged.

Kim said...

What a time you're having. Sometimes writing stuff out helps me. I hope you find some true rest, god knows you need it now before the baby comes. I had a baby five months ago and haven't slept longer than two hours at a time since. Take care!

Jade @ Tasting Grace said...

Sorry you're going through such a rough time. Hope it smoothes out soon!

Unknown said...

You are not making too big of a deal out of what happened. It is natural to wonder the what if's... I still do sometimes and it's been 10 years for me.
Hoping you get some rest and peace.

Gretchen said...

Oh my goodness, I hope your day got better. As a matter of fact, I pray that you are fast asleep right now.

Allison @ Alli 'n Son said...

I'm sorry you are having a rough time. That photo is beautiful though, it actually took my breath away. Hang in there, I hope things start looking better soon.

Ann On and On... said...

You have the strength! Prayers to you for everyday!

Alita said...

You are in my prayers. And you aren't making "too big of a deal" because we all grieve differently. Many times men grieve in moving on. They want to "take care" of things and it goes against many of their natures to really ponder upon the grief for a long period of time. Does that even make sense? I think we, as mothers, tend to nurture and grow from our grief. It takes longer.

So take as long as you need. And the picture... exquisite!

Hyacynth said...

If you want to go out for some coffee, I'll buy you a {decaf} peppermint mocha and just decompress with you this weekend.
He does promise us a soft landing. And even though the journey is sometimes anything but peaceful, He also promises to carry us when we're too tired to walk. Rest into Him.