Waves of Grief

Last night as I laid in bed, I leaned into Marc telling him how no matter how hard I tried all day to not think about it, I couldn't avoid the memories from three years ago.

July tenth was the day I went in for the laser surgery with Dr. Lee as the head surgeon. I was nervous going in. I was awake for the entire procedure. There was a sheet blocking my view of what was happening, but there was a nurse (or maybe it was a doctor?) standing above my head, reassuring me through it all. I just remember watching my blood pressure numbers changing every minute or so on the monitor next to me.

The surgery didn't last very long and right away the surgeons were optimistic. So were we. There was no room in my mind for the possibility of anything bad happening. It's strange to think back to the celebratory ice cream we ate in my hospital room after surgery. We were happy. We were hopeful. We were sure the worst was behind us.

I know it's normal to relive these memories and I'd choose to relive them rather than ignore them. But, even though it's a choice I choose, it doesn't get any easier.

It's like standing at the ocean's edge, looking off into the distance and seeing a very large wave forming. It's approaching with such great force that I can't help but to stand in awe and watch every movement as it grows in size and power. It's coming and I can see it coming and I actually want it to come. I'm bracing for the impact. It could easily sweep me away just as similar waves have done in the past, but it might not. Some waves look much worse from the distance, but lose some of their force before reaching shore.

I'm not really sure what to expect from this week, but I find myself wanting to experience it all in the most authentic and honest way possible. I've never been one to seek to over-dramatize my life, but I'm also not going to minimize the feelings that are connected to my sweet babies.

So, I'll be keeping my eye on that wave, while also taking in all the emotions and experiences that come lapping at my feet. I'll pause to snuggle and chase the two miracles that now fill my arms, embracing them a little bit tighter than usual. The waves will come and I'll let them wash over me, and then they'll go again.

And, I'll soak up the love and the joy that I feel knowing I have two little girls, perhaps a bit nearer to me this week, reliving it all again, too.