Lately I've been thinking a lot about my last post. And before I get into that, I need to thank you all so much for continuing to comment and send your love, thoughts and prayers. I'm amazed by your constant support, even when I write so infrequently.
My last post was honest and sincere and truly reflected where I was at that time, but it's so damn negative! I hate being negative - even in this crazy life I live. I know that in many ways I've been dealt a shitty hand, but I also know that I have so much to be grateful for and I've got no business moping around feeling sorry for myself.
Losing my kids was and is a horrible, terrible, unimaginable (even to me - still!) experience that I will never "get over". It will forever be part of who I am. But I don't want it to define me. I want to make the most of the life I have left, even though I can't be with them.
What I didn't realize before is how difficult it would be. And not in the ways I imagined. I miss them every minute of every day. If I let myself think about them too long, I can become a sappy mess of blubbering sadness at any given moment. But I don't. It's not helpful. When I'm home alone, I do allow myself to be sad, but when I'm at work or with my friends I hold it together pretty well. My coworker jokingly calls me a "cold-hearted bitch" because he cries more often than I do when we talk about my kids.
Missing them is awful, and at certain moments and in specific situations it can be overwhelming. But at this stage the hardest part for me to deal with is my utter loss of identity. When my kids died, I was a stay-at-home mom. Being Kate and Peter's mom was my full-time job and, really, my life. Sure I did other things, spent time with friends, worked a part-time job, etc, etc. but if you asked me who I was I would have told you I was a mom. Being instantly stripped of that identity and function as a human is what still has me dazed and confused.
At this moment, I'm not exactly sure where I fit in to this life. I'm not like anyone else I know. And I guess what's becoming most challenging is that I don't know who I want to be. When I married Ken I thought we'd sort of start over and that I could re-create myself as I'd always wanted to be - a wife and mother. Unfortunately, that didn't turn out the way I had hoped but I'm gradually learning to accept that.
So here I am. My life is basically a blank slate. I can do whatever I want (within reason) and be whoever I want to be. But I haven't a clue of what or who that is. And that is the hardest part. It's scary and lonely, yet hopeful all at the same time. And also scary. Did I mention it's scary?? I'm scared. Fo realz!
The good news is this: I'm in a much better place today than I was a year ago or even six months ago. Things have improved. I have amazing friends who are always supportive, I have a great family and I have a job that I truly enjoy. I have no idea where my life is going, but I'm hopeful that good things will happen or, instead, that I will be able to create a life of purpose, fulfillment and joy. I don't know what any of this will look like, but everyday I get out of bed and give it my best shot. It's s sort of shot in the dark, but at least I'm trying.
Years ago, when Kate was two and Peter was 10 months old, I realized that my marriage to Steve was headed toward an inevitable end. I was completely terrified. I never thought I would be divorced, and the idea of being a single mother in a city where I knew almost no one was beyond frightening. Someone gave me a little metal figure with an inscription on the back. It reads, "When nothing is certain, everything is possible." I'm holding onto that one. I'm not certain about a damn thing, which means there must be a whole lot of possibilities!
