Another snow day for us here in our little corner of Michigan… the third one in the past week! As a teacher, these are some of the perks of the profession, sprinkled throughout the darkest time of the year, bringing a little joy to our tired selves. As a grieving momma, these are also much-appreciated delights, because they are days in which I don’t have to perform on stage in the classroom and can just ‘be’ in the comfort of my own home. I’ll take it. I even got a pile of grading done, read some of my novel, and got to have a little bonus time with Chris.
It’s been an okay week, but I’ve noticed that pregnancy announcements seem to be taking the world by storm on social media these days. I swear there’s been a daily reminder from a new pregnancy or birth, reminding me of what I do not have, reminding me of all that we’ve lost. It’s hard. I am happy for these women, but I am also envious. It really does feel like everyone else in the world gets to keep their babies… except for us. I feel like I’m simply existing on the shadowy fringes of a happy world, longingly looking in. Perhaps that won’t always be so, but it’s difficult right now. I sure miss you, Lucy.
I took a big step today, at least in terms of my heart. I opened the door to Lucy’s nursery and left it open. We’ve had the heat ducts shut in the room because we’re not using it (except for when I go in there to sit), and it has been so frigid in there. The windows keep gathering condensation, and I keep wiping them down. I mentioned it to Chris and he thought letting some heat in and leaving the door open would fix that. My first response was, “That damn cat will be right in there, all over everything!” I don’t know what the hang-up has been for me with the cat in the nursery, but I decided that maybe leaving the door open is okay. I went in and took the changing pad off the dresser so Darwin can’t lay on it, made sure the glider was covered, and left the door open. Somehow, looking at the open door down the hallway feels like a symbol of hope suddenly. That maybe by opening the door now, the nursery once again becomes part of the house instead of remaining a sealed vault. It becomes symbolic of opening the door to new possibilities, new life. This doesn’t mean that I am ‘letting go’ of our Lucy, or moving on from the loss of her, it just means that perhaps there’s more to come, more possibility of joy that someday will coexist with the missing of her. And if the cat wanders in from time to time, well, then I guess I can deal.
Our little girl has been gone for 18 weeks now, and for 18 weeks, I’ve been living someone else’s life, as someone else entirely. Every day, I wake up full of longing for Lucy and the life we almost had. It doesn’t seem like it could be real. Sometimes I worry that I am not doing enough to honor her precious life, but then it dawns on me that she is a part of my every waking moment, in my every conscious thought. I will never be without her in my heart. There is some mild comfort in that, but again, it’ll never be quite good enough, because she should be here. With us. In our arms, not just our hearts. In the meantime, I will continue to love her more with each day that passes, and honor her by doing my best at life. And I’ll keep my heart open, letting hope in, just like the open nursery door.
The open door, letting hope in…