myself, when i am real.

a year ago I was starting to feel it.  the wounds were scarring over nicely, and the pain had diminished.  I could look at pictures of our past few years without crying.  I could pray.  that was a big one for me. the feeling that God had abandoned me in a hospital room for three months was fading.
but, everything backed up again with the birth of my son.  I've spent the months asking why, and knowing i'll likely never get an answer. the distance returned.  the trust diminished.  I can happily spit out the things people want to hear so they aren't uncomfortable, 'we are just so thankful that he's here and okay.'
and, it's true.  I am thankful.  but, i'm also angry.  and sad. and frustrated.  and I want more than anything to know God.  to feel Him.  to think He might be hearing me when I ask for things.  but, not just hearing me.  responding to me.  wanting to give me good things.  no more hard please.  I need a big long break from hard.
the past few weeks have been wrought with ugly parenting things with my big.  I never see them coming, and I have no idea if we are doing anything right when these things hit.  so tonight, I climbed up the ladder to her bed, and laid next to her.  I sang to her.  she sang to me.  she talked about things that seem so small from my adult world.  they're significant to her.  so I listened. 
then, she rolled over, sucked her thumb, and rubbed her lambie between her fingers.  I rubbed her back and silently thought.  or prayed.  or maybe those two things are one in the same.  I thought about how angry I am about hospital stays.  how I just keep cycling through the same things over and over.  and, maybe, she's angry about hospital stays too.  but, she's six.  and she doesn't know exactly how to say that.  so it looks different than it does for me.
I thought about how I can go to God over and over again, with my ugly thoughts, and my frustrations with Him, and how He doesn't ever seem to lose his temper.  He just lets me be angry.  and I pictured him rubbing my back as I fall asleep at the end of a day where I have spent the whole day stomping my feet and yelling at Him.  how He always seems to be there when I look back at things, right in the middle of it all, sustaining me.  and I told Him that I was trying.  trying to figure out who He was.  and that I would continue to seek, pursue, and run after Him, even on the days where i'm not sure how I feel about Him.  and I told Him that was really hard for me because I was afraid that He might abandon me.  get angry and decide i'm not worth the effort. or that He already had.
I eventually kissed big on the head and told her she was my favorite six year old in the whole world wide.  and I thanked her for singing to me.  the song she sang, was a kids song, by an artist named Justin Roberts.  lots of his stuff is really silly.  but, for some reason, she picked a song from one of his c.d.'s that is taken from old testament stories.  specifically, this song was taken from job. as if her lips were singing a soothing balm to a broken heart.

'where were you, when I laid the earth's foundation?
where were you, when I set the stars in space?
and they all sang together.
they all sang together up in space.
allelu, allelu, alleleuia.'

(if you want to hear the whole song, this is not him singing it, but it has the words with it)

someday, all things will be made right.  maybe, i'll even get to see the bigger plan that played into the last three years being hard.  but, for now, this doesn't wrap up neatly.  things are hard.  and, I don't want to act like it's all okay.  I struggle.  if you struggle too, that's okay.  if you're tired of hearing pat answers, and warding off those who blame you so that they can continue to believe that really hard things are from a lack of faith, come join me in.  it's hard here.  but, there are lots of really good days.  and laughter abounds because I use sarcasm to get through the hard ones.

post-partum body.

i didn't shower for the first few days. multiple nurses came in to check my incision and told me i could take the dressing off.  two days in a row the doctor came in and told me the same thing, and that i was free to shower.  but, i couldn't.  i was too scared.  not of pain.  i just didn't want to see it.  the place my son had been removed from my body.  it was new.  it was foreign, and it had not been a part of me the last time i had seen myself naked.
on the morning i was ready, i slowly peeled the dressing off, and stood in front of the mirror, staring.  there were still steri-strips so it wasn't a great view of what was underneath, but i got the gist of it.  i don't know what i had been afraid of.  it was just a line, cut just above my pubic bone, and well below my underwear line.  it was healing nicely. 

it has sort of become a routine now.  after i shower, i stand in front of the mirror for a while.  i stare at the reflection of my body.  it's a new reflection, not one i've ever known.  i don't feel shame.  i just want to get to know this new me a little better. 
my breast are the largest they've ever been, and covered in stretch marks.  they rapidly went from an a cup to a d cup during pregnancy, and the little lines that have formed on them show that growth.  i'm still amazed by the fact that they alone are able to nourish my son.
my stomach has decreased greatly in size, but is still soft, and much rounder than it was before a life formed inside of it.  the softness of it seems fitting for holding a tiny one against me to nurse, and snuggling up with him as he drifts off with a  belly full and milk on the corner of his mouth.
and just like the first time, i stare at my scar.  there are no more steri-strips.  just a pinkish line that runs across my lower abdomen.  i run my fingers over it again and again. there are still nerves that haven't regained feeling in it yet.  it makes touching it an odd feeling.  i move my hands away and stare.  i feel like society would have me feel ashamed of this scar.  i was unable to give birth the way most women do.  but, there is no shame.  this scar, this pink line that continues to heal, saved my son's life.  i love it, and feel some sorrow that it will always be hidden beneath clothes. 
i stare at my face and my legs.  they were very swollen by the time tiny came.  i gained around twenty pounds in the last three weeks of my pregnancy.  i had gained around twenty five in my first thirty three weeks.  looking at them now it's hard to believe or imagine where they were less than five weeks ago.
i'm still amazed at my body.  i'm amazed at how it grew life, and continues to sustain it.  i'm amazed at how very much went wrong, how very sick i was, and how quickly it has recovered.  i'm falling in love with my new self.  whenever someone says, 'you look great' i agree.  because i feel great.  it's unlikely that i will ever look like i did before pregnancy.  i'm okay with that.  i also will continue to sing the praises of other women and their incredible bodies.