Murky water

A few days ago Marc and I went on a little hike out at the Lake in our Small Town. It's interesting to keep track of the water levels, since it's usually a pretty good indicator of what our water conservation efforts will be in the coming months. With all the rain we've been getting this month, we were surprised to find the Lake still to be much lower than we've ever seen it.

The Lake - February 2009

It was interesting to come across a photo the other day of the Lake from a day-hike that Marc and I went on a year ago. The island in the upper left corner of the photo below, is the same "island" in the photo above, just from a different angle. As you can see, the water level is drastically lower, compared to its levels a year ago.

This is from February 2008. A year ago. But, somehow, looking at this photo feels like a lifetime ago. What happened to our life? Even though the situation we found ourselves in a year ago wasn't easy, in the least, I look back now in envy of how simple life seemed. Had I only known. Every time I look at this photo, now knowing what I know about what was around the corner, it seems to scream - Entering the Lone and Dreary World.

There are different aspects of this photo that seem to capture so much foreshadowing of things that would lie ahead of us, emotionally. The rocky path, the murky waters in the foreground and the beautiful horizon off in the distance. I had no idea back then, a year ago, the rocky path we were headed towards, the painful waters of grief we'd have to go through, the mountains yet to climb.

The last few weeks have been really hard for me, which is the main reason for my absence around here. I can't really put my finger on the reason exactly, other than the fact that grieving is hard and it's exhausting and it never sleeps. It's confusing, it's consuming, and it's heavy. I've found myself smack-dab-in-the-middle of the grief, wanting to hurry and find my way out. It isn't fun. I don't enjoy it. But, sadly, there is no easy way out. No matter how I try to stall or bypass the grief, it will always be there until I've gone through every feeling, and processed every emotion.

And, let me tell you - there are some surprisingly complex and painful emotions to be felt. I didn't expect to feel some of the feelings I'm going through right now. I thought that I was somehow above, and stronger than, some of the more awful stages of grief. Like anger. But, the truth is that I am angry. There, I said it.

I'm angry about the very young girl down the street who has a healthy baby boy - a baby who is such a burden to her that she has left him to be raised by his grandmother. I'm not angry at her personally... just angry that she got a baby that she doesn't want.

I'm upset at that woman much further away, who got 8 healthy babies to add to her 6. Why couldn't my two come healthy and stay, like hers? Was that too much to ask?

I'm mad that we've been stripped of the innocent bliss and joy we felt early on. As newlyweds, we had so much we looked forward to. We had big plans and bright dreams... so many of which revolved around the little ones we hoped would call us "Mommy" and "Daddy." So many adventures that remain undiscovered still today. Our dreams were so innocent and we felt what-we-thought-was-joy, as we worked to make those innocent dreams come true. There are so many young couples who start out just like us, but who seem to have all their plans work out so smoothly and easily, even if not as perfectly as they had planned. Do they even realize how lucky they are? It's painful to think back to those early days... I really had no idea what was ahead.

It has been lonely to realize how few understand my broken heart... not just the brokenness from losing our twins, though that has broken the biggest part of my heart... but, the broken dreams that have plagued us for six years. I know it doesn't even compare to some out there, but for me this is hard.  

I hate this current stage of grief I'm in and I hope I can get through it quickly. But, through it I will have to go, carefully paying attention to and then purging every painful feeling I feel, hoping it will bring me closer to what I'm so desperately hoping is a beautiful horizon waiting on the other end of this experience.

As painful and as lonely as these murky waters are, I count my lucky stars to have Marc so faithfully holding my hand through this. I cherish him and the sacred relationship we share more than I can ever express.

The deep pain we've experienced together is only making room in our hearts to fully experience True Bliss and Real Joy, whether in this life or the next. I'm convinced that whatever "bliss" and "joy" we thought we felt as newlyweds, we'll find they were only imitations of what we will feel once we come out on the other side of these dark and cheerless waters of grief.