Hurts so good

A dear friend of mine sympathized with me when, a few months after Gideon passed away, I held her baby, and hurt because it felt so good to hold him, but I missed my own boy so much.  They'd have been very close in age, and it was such a tangible reminder.  She said "It hurts so good, doesn't it?" (Incidentally, she is a foster mother who has had to "return" several babies that she'd have loved to keep too.)

I have since had many "hurts so good"moments.  There were a few acquaintances that I have who were pregnant with their own children at the same time as I was pregnant with Gideon.  Most of their children are now 2, and when I have the chance to observe these sweet kids, I love it because I enjoy the reminders of what my son might have been doing or saying, but it also makes my heart throb, because I feel his loss more keenly in those moments.

And my daughter, my sweet little girl, my rainbow baby.  She "hurts so good" every day.  I hug her more, kiss her more, enjoy her more because I missed out on so many of these moments with her older brother.  And when I see her start to babble, sign words, laugh when others are laughing even though she has no idea why we're all laughing, stand independently, and make messes with food...my heart swells and aches and rejoices all at the same time.  I never knew that life could bring so much joy and sadness simultaneously. 

Since Gideon, I find that life often "hurts so good", but I'm discovering it hurts in a way that causes growth--I believe I am better at feeling sympathy and expressing kindness toward other people.  I'm reluctantly learning to be grateful for the good this pain draws out of me. 

My therapy

I have been asked by some people how I have managed to keep a smile on my face, how I've not gone crazy from the roller coaster that losing a child puts you on.  First, let me clarify that I'm pretty sure I am crazy already, so that's a lost cause, but the smile I manage in a few different ways.

One is that I try to find reasons to be grateful.  Another is that I'm often looking for what I can learn and how, in the long run, I can use whatever I'm experiencing as a launch point, to help myself or others.  I also try to keep this in perspective, and do my best to trust in God's plan for me, even when I don't understand it. One thing I do that I'd like to elaborate on is that I try to fill my life and keep myself busy with things that make me very happy, which tend to be various ways of creating.  I love to create music, I love to create art (I'm no artist, but it's fun), I love to help children learn (creating geniuses and confident people), I love to create yummy food, I love to create beautiful gardens...I'm a sucker for creation.

Dieter F Uchtdorf gave a talk about happiness and creation a few years ago, in October 2008.  I love it, and I've referred to it many times in my life.  If you want to read it, click on this link: Happiness, Your Heritage, Dieter F Uchtdorf

This picture was taken from my driveway in fall of 2014.  Gorgeous, huh?!  What a Creator!

As I thought about this today, I have thought about how very logical the idea of creativity as therapy is.  I'm God's daughter, right?  If He's the creator of all, and I'm His child, then it makes sense that I inherited both a natural desire for creation and also a natural aptitude for it.  I think I've perhaps been given an extra large dose of the desire to create, and maybe not quite as much natural aptitude...I want to be able to create and do everything (I have "olympics envy" going on, as I watch gymnasts, divers, swimmers and runners and think how awesome it would be to be able to do those things as well as they do.)  Realistically, I know that I'm not going to be perfect and good at everything, (have you seen my house?!) and that's OK too, but I have come to realize that having a desire to create: to do good, to make something, to improve something--that's part of my heritage as a child of God, and I've begun to embrace it.  When I feel down, on those days when I wonder if the reason that Gideon was taken home was that I couldn't be a good enough mother to him, or when I feel like I don't really do much good, I take that Heavenly heritage, and I find a way to create something.  When I speak of creation, I don't necessarily mean things that can be put on display or in a talent show.  (Heaven knows, on down days it's hard to pull myself up and create anything, but especially anything fancy or display worthy.)  Creation can be something as simple as creating a smile, a glimmer of hope, creating faith in humanity, or creating a space that's beautiful simply by tidying it up.

To double the therapeutic power, I love to simultaneously create something and help another person learn to create something.  Teaching my children to cook, helping other kids learn to play the piano, sharing my feelings about a scripture in Sunday school, all those things make me feel so much better about who I am, they all help me to create, and hopefully inspire others to create too.

Creating makes me feel good, and I think that, in part, it's because it brings me closer to God, as a creator. Helping another person learn to create is also part of His work, to help all His children grow into their potential, and so that's another way to help me be more like Him.  When I'm closer to Him, I'm happier, and able to find myself and find reasons to smile, even when things are hard.

Two years ago

I think August 1st will always be hard, but also that it will always be dear to my heart.  Two years ago, Gideon went home, and we had to say goodbye.  This day...I have some of the best and hardest memories.  We wanted so badly to spend time with him, we wanted special moments with him, so our children (and we also) would have something to hold onto...some piece of knowing him and having him with us in our family.  We had a 1 week birthday celebration for him.  We had party hats and sang Happy Birthday to You, even though it was just his 1 week birthday.  Music therapists came in and wrote a lullaby with us.  We took pictures.  The kids helped make him a blanket that he used that day.  That lullaby and these pictures, and all those who helped make our time with him special by bringing in meals and helping clean our home...those mean so much to me, I can't even find words to express it.  It was miraculous that we got a week, and I treasure that week, and in his honor, I try to remember to treasure all my time, especially time spent with people I love.  I can look back now and see how much we've changed.  My children (except Gideon) have grown so much.  My soul has grown so much.  Life is more dear, my children more precious, and my time is a treasure now that Gideon has touched our family.

 

The last few days have been chaos, as I've been going to and from girls camp and preparing to go on trek with youth in my congregation.  It has felt like a fitting tribute, and I'm loving the time spent sharing my faith and hope in the chance to see Gideon again, and my gratitude for Jesus Christ for making it possible for families to be together, and for my sins to be forgiven, so I can be perfect like Him and like Gideon. 

I sometimes feel like I am more broken, but I also sometimes feel like I am more whole because he joined my family.  In the midst of the chaos, I can still miss Gideon.  It sneaks up on me and surprises me, and I start crying right in the middle of laughing.  When my kids came in for a group hug, I wish he was a part of it.  When they're noisy and rambunctious, diving in to tickle me with Dad's help, I wish he was here with us.  We love and miss our little boy so much.  It's been 2 years since I've seen him alive.  I wish I'd have held him a little longer during those moments I did get the chance to hold him, because they were so very limited.  And I'm so grateful that I did get to hold him, sing to him, pray for him, and love him so deeply.  I wish I'd told him a million times that I love him, but I think he knows.