Thursday, November 26, 2009
Okay, I will be honest, I wanted to sit down this morning and write this inspiring and thoughtful post about thankfulness and when I sat down I just could not make my fingers type. It has been a rough week at the Bolte house. Ben was sick, Hope was really sick (which gave us a HUGE scare Tuesday) and this morning Howard got sick. This is the violently vomiting kind of sick and it is no fun. It has pretty much sucked the life out of me literally. The extra laundry the up all night with sick little ones, and the constant bleaching of EVERYTHING in hopes of trying to prevent the sickness from spreading has gotten the best of me.
On Monday, I got the bug, not the one my family has been battling, but the one where you know you will be soon decorating your home for Christmas and you want to begin cleaning and rearranging everything in site. I was feeling the need for change and so I decided to start with our bedroom. It was going well and I had a plan. Ben was helping, Hope was cheering us on from the sidelines and I moved my bed. Under the bed, among the dust and lost slippers, I found a plastic bag, a bag I had all but forgotten existed to be honest. It was a white bag with the hospital logo written on it. The kind they give you to put your belongings in when you check in.
I didn't think much of it and I opened it abruptly and then, promptly fell back onto the bed the wind sucked right out of me. I have no idea how I had forgotten to pack this bag in Asher's memory box, but I did. This bag was filled with the blankets he was wrapped in, the clothes he wore, the stuffed puppy we took his picture with and clothes with tags that he never had the opportunity to wear. I remember bringing that bag home. I remember vividly sitting in that wheelchair being wheeled out of that hospital, face swollen and tear stained clutching that bag for dear life. Most moms come out of the hospital holding a baby, and this bag was all I had left of the memories I had with Asher.
When I brought it home I now do remember shoving it under the bed because I just could not deal with it. Those items were as personal as it got. They were stained with amniotic fluid and that white gooey stuff babies are born covered in. As gross as it sounds, I wanted ONLY my linens to touch him so I could keep them. I literally thought I might suffocate in my grief in that moment. Ben quickly recognized the blankets because they are in all of our photos and asked if they were Asher's. I told him they were and he could see I was teary. I quickly pulled the drawstring on the bag and took it to the basement to pack away with the rest of his things. Ben followed and promptly hugged me and told me he missed Asher too.
That is how this grief thing works. Life can be going along almost normal and then WHAM you are thrown backward so violently that you head spins. That moment stayed with me most of this week. I tried hard to get caught up in the Thanksgiving fun and yet found myself sad and longing for what I will never have this side of Heaven.
Tonight I sat down again to write a Thanksgiving post and looked at my Thanksgiving posts past for inspiration. Two years ago, almost exactly, I started this blog. I was just handed a certain unfavorable diagnosis for Asher and was coming to terms with carrying a boy I would never get to raise. My fourth boy, second to go to Heaven before me. My heart still longs for that boy, and yet I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to love and cherish him. He has changed me profoundly.
One year ago I wrote about my struggles with Thankfulness, because though I had a thankful heart I could not bring myself to be thankful for Isaac or Asher's deaths.
This year I sit here feeling guilty that I even had a tough time writing about my thankful heart. It has been a hard day. Nothing has turned out as planned and instead of sitting at my Grandma's and playing Uno with a belly full of Turkey and Pumpkin Pie, I sit at my kitchen table, while my boys are at my grandma's playing Uno, my husband is sick in bed, and my sweet girl is sleeping in my lap and though I am drained and weary, I am thankful.
Lord, I am thankful. I have a husband who loves me despite my deep flaws, two healthy little boys who think I am the prettiest Queen they know, and a baby girl who was expected to live a life much different than the one she lives. My life has been full of indescribable pain, and intense joy. We have loved and we have lost. But we have loved. And we love. And we have three beautiful children on this earth and two who wait for us in Heaven.
The Lord knew that through it all I would need Howard to be my pillar of strength, my best friend and the best daddy a kid could ask for. He knew I would need Luke's snuggles and sweetness. He knew I would need Ben to make me laugh and never take life too seriously, and He knew I would need Hope, to remind me that with Him ALL things are possible (well, and lets face it girls, this house was brimming with testosterone).
So, though I still cannot say that I am thankful for the deaths of my sons, I can say that I am SO thankful for all the Lord has done to bring me through. I am thankful for this blog that has provided me with a place to share my boys and their story, I am thankful for the many friends I have gained along the way, I am thankful for the mother and wife he is making me and I pray that I remain open to the changes he is making. I am thankful Lord, so thankful.
Posted by boltefamily at 8:42 PM