And Nightmares

This weekend I took a step toward healing.  It was a time to reconnect with my husband and be together as a couple.  With the turmoil that has surrounded us the past few months, it was so great to laugh and talk and dream and be together.  We talked about Molly, about Josiah, about our new baby girl who we will get to meet in a few months.

It is good to have my best friend be able to share both memories and grief with.  He understands that I need to both laugh and cry, and he is supportive no matter what state I'm in.  It takes quite a man to deal with a pregnant wife who is grieving the loss of a child, trying to celebrate the arrival of another one, while nurturing yet another.  He knew how much I needed a weekend away despite much protesting from me who did not want to leave my daughter behind.  I am so thankful for him.  He was right.  I needed it.

Sometimes, I think I'm doing alright.  I can read books to Molly now that I couldn't even look at weeks ago.  Josiah's crib is broken down and patiently waiting in the attic for a new baby to cradle.  I tear up every now and again when I let a memory soak in too long.  But I am quick to dismiss grief sooner than I used to.  I can justify it away, telling myself that I'm sure Josiah is fine and he doesn't miss me.  I think of the relief of not having to deal with his family who was never satisfied with the amount of time we allotted for Josiah to spend with them.  I look at Molly playing and having fun with toys that Josiah would have torn away from her.  I am thankful for being about to focus on her and only her.  I think about Josiah getting to live with his brother, and I know that he is safe with his grandparents, and that they will fight for him until they are able to adopt him permanently.  See?  I'm pretty good at looking at positive things now and believing them.

But last night felt like I literally had the wind knocked out of me.  

Pregnancy has taught me about listening to the needs of my body.  I yield to cravings for food that I used to not particularly like and I sleep when I feel like I need to.  I sit down when I teach sometimes because my body feels weary, and the baby that is pressing on my bladder makes me frequent the bathroom more than I'd like to.  I sleep in a different position now, eat more fruits and veggies, drink more water,  and take my vitamins regularly.  It amazes me how heightened senses are during pregnancy too.  When food is good, it tastes really good; when something smells bad, it makes me want to throw up.  When I'm tired, I'm not just sleepy, I'm exhausted.  When I'm grouchy, watch out.  When I'm happy, I'm giddy.  Pregnancy turns me into an amplified version of myself when it comes to emotions.  So when I comes to the need to grieve, I thought that this was a need for my mind, one that I could justify away.  Certainly not a need for my pregnant body.  Yeah...I was wrong.

It turns out my body not only craves food, sleep, and has the need to nest.  I need to grieve.  My body is telling me so.  In addition to heightened senses of my conscious behavior, my subconscious is heightened too.  Dreams are more vivid now than those I had in my former non-pregnant state.  They are deceivingly real.  Last night was one of those dreams.

Josiah was in my lap.  And unlike in my consciousness when I can not piece together all of the tiny details that made that made that moment so special, my subconscious did.  I could feel his curly hair tickle my lips, smell his shampoo, and feel his little round belly jiggle when he laughed.  I was reading some of his favorite books to him and watching him point to the moon with his little thumb.  And then I heard it.  His voice.  It is the voice I crave to hear more than any voice in the whole world.  It was there, finishing my sentences like he always used to when I read to him.  I looked up at the clock watching it tick...tick....tick, knowing that someone was coming for him to take him away.  I wiped away tears streaming down my face before they could trickle down into his hair.  I could feel my voice crack as I tried to read.  I knew this was a special moment I wasn't going to get much time to do.  I wanted to read all the books he loved.  I loved feeling the weight of him in my lap, hearing his feet kick the floor.  He was so real.  But I just couldn't read any more.  All I could do was just hold him and want to keep him safe.  And then Justin woke me up.  I was crying in my sleep- so much so that I was shaking the bed.

It was a strange feeling because I wasn't sad.  The only way I could describe it was that my body needed to cry.  It had been weeks since I let myself cry like that, and it caught up with me.  For a half an hour, I sobbed uncontrollably.  There was nothing Justin could do or say to help me stop it.  My body was sad.  It longed for Josiah.  And I just needed to let myself cry for him.

I was mad that after I woke up, I couldn't recreate his voice in my head.  And then I missed him.  And then in my awake state I felt a need to cry.  And then I cried some more.

Grieving is such a strange and beautiful journey.  Because more than it teaching me that my body needs to cry, it teaches my spirit that I need to cling to my Savior for strength.  It is a deep longing so much greater than my need for nourishment or water for myself or my growing baby.  Something much more important and eternal is happening here.  I feel it stirring.  I don't know what it is called.  Maybe faith?  Maybe hope?  I'll just have to be patient with myself until the work is complete.

I'm so thankful I have videos to remind me of the sweet times Josiah blessed me with.

I just love that little man.  And I love his voice.  And I miss him.