I'm back! This is the blog that suits me. I'm so happy to be back and want to thank Cindy for helping me to figure out WHY I was unable to access this blog in the first place. It has been so long since I've been here! I've tried a few different blog ideas but keep coming back to this.
A lot has happened since I last posted, as you've probably read in other posts on my other blogs. I hope to consolidate them all soon (if I can figure THAT out).
But on to my breakthrough!
I thought of my 3 blogs: iBlooming, My Mediterranean Experiment and By Still Waters and decided this might be most fitting in By Still Waters, because this is yet another moment where my soul has been quieted but I always return here to this place. So I want to share this with you tonight.
I had an emotional meltdown this morning.
I'm in the midst of a nutritional-lifestyle-change (NOT a diet) and worked all day yesterday to plan my meals, measure my portions, package them just so and prepare for the day ahead-today. I knew I would have to get up early to get all four of my boys, (yes, 4-there's been an addition since I last wrote here!) ready and out the door. We had plans to meet the hearse at the funeral home at 9 am.
Let me rewind a little bit. Our pastor is on vacation for 2 weeks. I led the service and preached last week. After the service I was told that one of the members of our church had passed away the previous week and would I be able to lead the funeral service set for later this week. Of course I agreed and the memorial service was held last Friday with a burial on Monday, today.
And so the morning went quickly and I had my breakfast on the stove to cook while I fed the boys and got them dressed and packed drink bottles and snacks for the walk that they would take with Cindy while I led the service at the cemetery. It was harried, rushed and even in the midst of that I felt like I just might have it all together...
Boys in the van....check
All buckled in....check
Dog in the house....check
Doors locked....check
iPad with notes on it for service....check
Snacks....check
My nutritional necessities for later....check
Oh my gosh...keys, where are my keys?!?!?....oh, in my purse....check
And so our 20-minute drive began, feeling pretty good. I was even early enough to stop at the bank to make a deposit before heading off. As I pulled up I saw a message, the ATM screen apologized for my inconvenience but it as temporarily not in service. Hmpf. This was an important deposit. Grrr. On to the red light where the boys played 20 questions with me about the upcoming events of the day when it hit me-I didn't bring the breakfast I had so painstakingly planned and prepared for myself. And to boot I couldn't say with all certainty that I had shut the stove off!
Begin the meltdown.
I wasn't just crying. I was blubbering. I was weeping.
"What happened?" the older boys asked from the back of the van.
"What's wrong mommy, whats wrong?"
"I forgot my breakfast, " was all I could say in reply. True. And on I wept.
My Samuel said (as I would say to him if he were crying about his breakfast), "You must be hungry."
"I am, Sammy."
And then, a few minutes later, "That's enough, Mom."
When we reached Cindy outside the funeral home I was calmed enough to go in search of the funeral director. I told Cindy what had happened and she offered her car for me to take to the cemetery and she would take the boys back home to make sure the stove was off. (Bless her! And it was off!) I couldn't help this feeling of overwhelm and sadness.
As the van drove away carrying my friend and my children inside, and I sat alone waiting for the funeral director I had to think. I knew I held some grief for the family I was serving. I also realized that I had worked hard yesterday and had been in a rush that morning which could make anyone feel overwhelmed or emotional. But why the weeping? Then it hit me.
SIDEBAR:
We're really getting up close and personal here, and after such a long absence too...
After my mom was diagnosed with cancer and various other stressful events happened in my family I took myself to counseling for extra support and to try and get a handle on things. It wouldn't do to have my anxiety get the better of me.
While in counseling the emotional breakdown I had was surrounding the births of my children. (One source of grief whether anticipatory, secondary, ambiguous, can trigger others). I have had 3 cesarean sections and have never been able to deliver a baby naturally, something I had always assumed would be possible. When noticing such a pointed response to the subject, my counselor asked me what meaning I had placed on the idea of having a natural childbirth. I didn't know.
I've thought about it for weeks. I don't know what meaning I placed on the idea of natural childbirth. The question has bothered me since she asked it months ago. This morning as I was getting ready, in the midst of my chaos, I asked myself out loud in the mirror one more time, "What meaning did I give natural childbirth?"
END SIDEBAR.
Then it hit me. I had worked SO HARD yesterday to get all the food prepared, meals planned, portions measured and packaged just to have the day start out with a miss? I missed the goal of eating within one hour of waking, missed the meal entirely and all the work put into that yummy banana "pancake" sitting on my stove, just sitting there...
That's why I was so upset, that's why I was so sad. It was because I had tried so hard to do it right. I had tried so hard to have my day of food planned in advance.
I had done all that I was supposed to do during my pregnancies to prepare. To care for the wee ones while they were within and to work out the plans for their arrival.
I didn't eat breakfast on time. I supplemented with a protein shake instead of eating my cooked meal.
I didn't give birth naturally per my birth-plan. I had c-sections and long recoveries.
It may seem like a trifle to some reading this. Even my husband likes to look at the other side of the coin. "If we were living in colonial days you might not be sitting with me here now," he said.
"You may have died. Bobby may have died....I'd probably be on my third wife by now."
But I believe in ambiguous grief and that we all grieve certain things in our lives without labeling it as such. This is just one of those things for me. Not to be dramatic. Not to drag anything out. Just because it meant something to me.
And so, I think about my breakfast that ended up being my bedtime snack. I consider those c-sections and the scars I bear and the children I hold tight and I am peaceful.
