"You know, through pain, you learn a lot about yourself--things you thought you never knew you wanted to learn. And it's kind of like those animals that regrow a part of their body--like starfish. You might not feel it now. You might not even want to grow, but you will. You'll grow the part that broke off, and that growing, that blooming-- cannot happen without the pain." -Kelle Hampton
I'm reading a book called Bloom: Finding Beauty in the Unexpected by Kelle Hampton. Kelle is a mother of two, her first daughter was born healthy and her second daughter was born with down syndrome. I stumbled upon Kelle's Blog when I was pregnant with Bella. I don't remember how exactly I came across her blog, I know that during that time I had just been given the news that something was wrong, so I'm assuming that this was part of the search results. I remember reading her blog and feeling so.. inspired by her and her sweet little Nella. I saved the link to her blog, and I'd come back to it whenever I needed a little boost. On some of the hardest days, when I felt like I'd never be able to make it, I'd turn to Kelle's blog. I'd read Nella's birth story over and over until I could convince myeslf that one day I'd be able to be that strong.
When Bella was born, I was a given our own story, our own journey, and I felt that I had become that kind of strong, like Nella's mom. Anyway, I didn't go back to that blog after Bella was born. I remembered it, but I just didn't really need it like before. Recently, I was looking for something good to read on my nook, and I came across this book! I instantly remembered Nella and her mom's blog and I just knew I had to have it. I've cried thoughout most of the book simply because it's all so familiar. It's just such a universal journey, in the world of parents of children with special needs; the hurt, the pain, the guilt, the unconditional love, the gratitude, all of it.
I have to admit that sometimes I look to other people's personal experiences, simply to feel it all over again. Because I'm afraid of forgetting. Because sometimes the pain just feels good. Because it takes me back to that place that I need to leave, but don't want to.
It's the way that I imagine that people that cut must feel. That intense pain that they want to feel in order to feel more alive. I cut, in some wierd way, by reading those blogs and books and watching videos of babies that didn't make it. I desperately need to feel that familiar pain. I cut deeper and deeper until it just doesn't hurt so bad anymore. Until I feel that I can breathe. Because it's not just me. It wasn't just Bella that didn't make it. There are others out there, and I need their stories in order to go on. And I cry. And I hate God. And then I love God. And then I realize that this is really a never ending cycle. I realize that I'm doing this to myself. I'm holding on to the pain with an intense grip because letting go is just much too hard.
My second Mother's Day without Bella. It was a strange day. I wanted so badly to be considered a mother, yet when someone said Happy Mother's Day, I couldn't help but feel that I didn't deserve that. I felt as though I didn't belong to that secret club that I so badly wanted to be a part of. Some people were very hesitant, and I can't blame them. It was an awkard, "Umm.. Happy Mother's Day?" simply because they had already said it to someone around me. I wanted it, but I didn't want it in that way. I didn't want a happy mother's day filled with sympathy. I didn't want that. Not this Mother's Day, not last Mother's Day, not in the Mother's Day to come. God, it sucked. Badly. That's not how Mother's Days should be. I saw facebook posts of all the moms that had recieved flowers and Thank You's from the fathers of their children, and I had to remove myself from my social network for the day because it was just a reminder of everything I didn't have. A reminder of what I wish I had.
It's been a rough week to say the least..