I'm not even sure where to begin. It's hard to believe that my last post was written on November 20, 2006. I feel as if my life has changed so much since then; at times I don't even feel like the same person. I've composed the beginnings of at least a dozen posts in my head, but I haven't been able to make myself sit down to actually type the words. As of late, it has been difficult for me to publicly express myself in a way that I feel conveys what was has been transpiring in my heart and mind.
The past few months have been filled with change and loss. My 24-year-old stepbrother, Garrett, died unexpectedly on December 10, 2006. As you can imagine, his death was a complete and utter shock to our family. At times, it doesn't even seem real that he is gone. My mother called early on Sunday morning, and immediately, I knew that something was wrong. My first thought was that something had happened with my stepfather's mother, or even with my stepfather. "Garrett died last night," she said. The words my mother spoke didn't make sense to me; I couldn't comprehend them. I had to ask her to repeat herself. Healthy 24-year-old men don't just die like that, without warning. Oh, but they do.
Garrett and I were never terribly close. My mother and his father married when I was in college, so we didn't have childhood and adolescent years together to establish a strong bond. We saw each other on holidays and special occasions. Garrett and his girlfriend got pregnant not too long after high school. By the time he died, just over a month before his 25th birthday, Garrett and Mary had gotten married and had two children--a five-year-old daughter and a two-year-old son. My heart breaks for my stepfather and Garrett's wife. It is so difficult to see those that you love ache so deeply with sadness. It is painful not being able to do anything except to just be there and to offer love and open arms.
Although Garrett and I were not close, his death has affected me profoundly. Over the past few years, particularly since the miscarriages, I have been doing a lot of reflecting, searching, and trying to make sense of the Universe. Garrett's death has shaken it all up for me again; I can't seem to make sense of it. I have a feeling that I won't be able to for a long while yet.
I left my full-time job at the end of December, and have blindly stepped into the unknown. It is very uncomfortable for me to not have a plan for what comes next. My intention in making this change was to free myself to discover my calling, to become more grounded, and to learn how to take care of myself. My to-do list for now is to simply be still and listen, and to open myself to possibilities.
I've been spending a good deal of time reading, journaling, meditating, nurturing my friendships, and making jewelry. My jewelry - this small act of creation - has become a moving meditation for me. I'm learning to let myself play, to enjoy the simple pleasure of exercising my creative inclinations, and to enjoy the process instead of focusing on the end result. I'm not sure where I'm going, but I have been having some amazing experiences - far too many to share in this post.
Lucas's due date, January 9, passed with no shortage of tears. I didn't let myself really open up to my grief again until the day was nearly over. I retrieved my pregnancy journal and ultrasound pictures from their home in my memory box, thankful to have these tangible elements to remind my of my boy. I read all of the cards we received from friends and family during that difficult time, and I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the love and abundance in my life.
John and I are still trying to get pregnant. We found out this week that our second cycle using clomid was not successful. It has been a difficult week. Now, I'm just waiting for my body to flush the extra progesterone to allow the start of a new cycle. And then we will try again.
The past few months have been difficult, but I have also experienced a lightness that I can't remember feeling for a very long time. A deep sense of peace has come over me. I am focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, day by day, hour by hour. I'm holding on to faith that things will work out just the way they should.