Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Shards of Glass

When my father was a boy, he boiled a glass in a pan and it exploded.  You can still feel shards of glass under the skin.  Shards the doctors were never able to remove. 

You'd never know just from looking at it.  But, if you feel carefully...they are there.

This weekend, I took a walk with my rainbow girly and husband...and of course, my amazing sheep dog.   The boys all opted to stay home with a movie, and we agreed because our teen hasn't been home much lately, being a social butterfly and all...  So, it was a nice chance for them to hang together as brothers.  It was also a nice chance to just talk, without interruption.  In all honesty, we typically don't mind "interuption"...but there are moments when it's nice to talk without having to remember what you said moments ago because someone needs toilet paper, and someone else needs a snack and someone else wonders when they can buy that extra special video game, and someone else wonders if I can pay them for cleaning the porch (yes.) and someone else wonders if someone ELSE can do the dishes (no.)

When we walk with our rainbow girly, sometimes we pass other people.  They smile at her and nod knowingly at us "Oh, you just wait till she's older!  They are sweet NOW, but..." 

They don't know that I've been a practicing mother for 22 years.  They don't know that I have five living children.  They don't know that my twins are dead and that I'd give ANYTHING to have them give me hell in the future.   At least they would BE. 

It's the shards of glass in MY heart...loss.  Razor sharp and uncomfortable to the touch.  Sealed under a scar---forever. 

The part of me that longed for "me time".  The part of me that groaned about endless need.  The part of me that wistfully remembered dreams from my youth---before I became a parent.  A mother.  That part of me...seems insignificant compared to the part of me that yearns to be whole again. 

I yearn for the days before the shards of glass.  Before I knew that my children could die.  Before I knew that I could--and would--find myself sobbing in a super market.  Or any market for that matter.  The days wherein I felt complete, and whole, and...strong.

I walk by smiling people and I wonder what their shards of glass are. 

Or if they have any.

And if they don't...Why? 


As they walk by me, with my beautiful little girl smiling from my arms, do they think I've got it all?  Do they feel that I must not know suffering? 

Do we look like the perfect family of three plus doggie dear? 

It's something to contemplate...that others have shards of glass in their souls too.  That we can't see what those shards are from.  That we don't even know they are there.  And probably never will.

I walk by smiling people and I smile back at them. 

They don't need to know. 

Wednesday, June 6, 2012


It's really been three years.  Three long years since losing Simon and Alexander that have gone by with the speed of a freight train running over my heart.  Only faster.  And more tortuous.

Three years in the life of a woman.  When I look at the big scale of my life...three years are a drop in the bucket.  I should be grateful. 

IS that little baby girl really me???

That's what I'm told.  I'm told that that grinning little girl with the big brown eyes is me.  Or rather...she was me. 

See, that little girl with the broad smile and eyes brimming with excitement hasn't been hurt yet.  She hasn't been damaged by life yet.  Her parents love her and feel that she is a delight.  She hasn't been ignored, or belitted, or neglected, or shamed.  Yet.

Life hasn't dealt her any abuses.  Yet.

Nor any cruelties.  Yet.

She still drinks her mothers breast milk, designed especially for her, and when she cries, her mama picks her up.

No one has molested her.  No one has berated her.   No one has decided that she is too needy or too talkative or too...bothersome.

No one has decided that her emotions are unwanted.

She has never known loss...nor does she know that she will walk hand in hand with it.  She has NO IDEA what is in her future.  No idea of what is coming her way.  

She is just loved.  Adored even. 

I was a rainbow baby.

It's funny, to look at the picture now, because...I have a rainbow baby too.
And, just like the me in that picture...she is adored.
She has never known pain.  Neglect.  Abuse.
No one has ever given her anything but tenderness and love.
She has been treasured, encouraged, and celebrated.
She is surrounded by a house of adoring brothers, a doting father, and an especially tender mama.

This is my mother and me.

Yeah...we are sideways...but, that's kind of appropriate.  Because see, my world would soon be turned upside down.  My mother would soon get the son she always craved, and I'd be put on the back burner...suddenly too demanding.  Suddenly  Rainbow baby or not....It's never been the same.  I was too much work.  Too sensitive.  Too talkative.  Yeah.  I was apparently too sexy by the time I could walk.  Weird.  

Not only was I too sexy, which is why it was my fault that I was violated while she frequented bars with random jerks...but I was also too thinky.  See, I thought too much about...everything.  We didn't really see eye to eye, my mother and me.  Not because I didn't want to...but because she didn't want to face her own demons.  She didn't want to look at her own mine was a nuisance to her.  When my pain didn't just "go away"...I became the object of disdain.  It was my problem.  Not hers.

This is my rainbow girl and her  The me I am NOW.
We are right side up.

If i have ANYTHING to say about...that is the way she and I will stay.

In love.

In touch.

In eternity.

I was a rainbow baby.  A discarded rainbow baby.  How bizarre to know how deeply I treasure my own girl when I am an un-treasured daughter.  And yet...I know how to be a good mama, cause I didn't have one!  I searched high and low to discover who I am NOW.  I was a rainbow baby.

Somehow that speaks to me.  A rainbow baby giving birth to a rainbow baby...

I look at the pictures of the me that used to be...and I know that the twinkle in my eyes holds an understanding of joy.  That twinkle has re-appeared...and as I look at my daughter, it sparkles in a wonderment that stands in astonishment as I contemplate my past in view of my present...and my future. 

I know that the little girl that I was had no idea how terribly sad life could be...and life was unbearably cruel to her.

And yet, that remained.

That's how I know that photo is of me.  I still have that sparkle.

When I look at my baby girl and her big brothers...I see that I passed it on.
I will take care to ensure their sparkles are cherished.  I know what it feels like to have that sparkle ignored.

That is what tenacity gives us...even though the walls of our lives come crumbling down... we discover our innate right to love and joy in spite of hardship and our sparkle shines on.
And on.

And on.

And...I am very. very. very grateful for that...