The High Dive

 

It's not the speed that matters.  It's the getting there.

by Sarah

When you break your leg, you get to have a cast on so people know that something is broken and that you may not be feeling 100% like your usual self.  With grief, there is no outward visible sign you wear that alerts others of your need for them to be extra gentle with your fragile heart.  I desperately wish there was something special I could put on outwardly to let those I encounter know that my healed appearance belies the actuality of my completely broken heart within.

Today I feel like I'm standing on the end of a high dive.  My legs are shaking.  My goggles are on, but I have no life jacket to ease the necessity of swimming immediately upon entering the water.  I'm on the high dive and the only way down is to jump.  Today is my last day of my maternity leave. I go back to work tomorrow and I don't know how I got here...to this day, I mean. To the end of this season.  I clearly recall how back in the fall I actually believed I would never reach this day.  Never.  It felt impossible to me.  I have been away from my job for a little more than six weeks and I remember thinking before leaving work to have Luke, that taking these six weeks off would be plenty of time to make some progress towards healing.  In a way, I was right, but I had no idea how difficult this healing process would be for me.  How much I would miss my sweet boy.

The honest truth is that if it was up to me to decide, I'm not ready to go back. I'm not ready to say goodbye to this season of my story.  These days have been protected for me.  They have been my unapologetic days full of hours of missing my little guy.  Days where if I felt like crying, I could just bawl my eyes out for as long as was needed.  Days where I could stare off into space for long stretches of time not really thinking about anything productive.  Days where I could stay in my fuzzy pajama pants and slippers because they were simply comfortable.  Days where I could talk with God out loud and days where I could talk and just "be" with Luke.  And now those days are over.  Not that I will no longer be allowed or able to do these things or grieve or mourn any longer, because of course I will.  But not in such an intentional, protected way.  I feel like this chapter of my story with my sweet Luke is coming to an end and I'm just not feeling ready to say goodbye to it yet.  Professionally, according to my work calendar, my leave is over.  On paper, it's time to get back to "normal" and return to my job and routine...I just have to convince my heart that it is time.

Monday I had my six week check up with Dr. Nichols and received the 'all clear' to return to my "normal life" activities.  We talked about hope for future pregnancies, and hope that our next return to see her would be because of some wonderful news for our family.  She offered encouragement, support, information, sympathy, guidance and most of all hope.  Her nurse Jeanie was fantastic as well offering her heart and trademark genuine TLC.  I just cannot help but love them both to pieces and remain so very thankful that they are our medical providers and I absolutely do look forward to sharing some happier times with them in the future.  But when it came time to leave the room I was being seen in, I became unexpectedly overwhelmed with emotion.  Yes, my heart was filled with gratitude and hope for our future as a family, but a part of my heart was also breaking as this was my last official "Luke-related" doctor's appointment.  That chapter's ending snuck up on me before I was prepared for it.  While she obviously understands that my emotional state will continue to be tenuous and fragile, Dr. Nichols essentially told me that day that I was physically able and capable of moving forward...that I no longer required any special, protected time to heal- physically.  Emotionally, I'm a completely different story.  I'm nowhere near receiving the "all-clear" and wonder if I ever will be.  So with no end in sight emotionally, but being ready physically, how do you know when it's time to get back into the game?  Is it time?  I guess I just have to convince my heart...

It may sound strange that I would be struggling with leaving this impossible and difficult season behind me.  I'm honestly surprised by my reluctance myself.  However, this is my only way of life I've known since having Luke.  His memory is very much alive for me here in these days.  His reality, his presence, his life and our joy at being his parents dominate my life in this season and it truly comforts me.  I feel okay here.  I feel safe.  All of the days I have faced without Luke have looked this way.  He is my beloved son and I hate the thought of moving forward in my life without him...of things looking different.  How do I keep Luke "alive" if I'm having to focus on other things and engage with other people and be present elsewhere?  I'm worried that he will fade from the front of my mind.  That somehow by returning to my "normal" life, my memories will gently start to fade as life's obligations arise and demand and pull my focus and attention away from him.  That is one of my greatest fears.  How do I manage this?  I know I cannot remain in this season forever and if I am to ever arrive again in a place where hope, happiness and joy reside, I know I have to leave the reality of where I am today.  I have to figure out how to bring Luke forward with me in a healthy way as I leave this chapter I've been living in and push forward into the next one... I just have to convince my heart that it is time...

A dear friend asked me yesterday how I'm feeling in getting ready for what is next in my story and I told her that I feel like I'm in that place of having to move forward... of needing extra strength in order to continue pushing toward healing but not really wanting to dig deep for it because I just don't know what being "healed" will look like in reality... if I will like it or just feel guilty or secretly sad.  I know it will be gut-wrenchingly difficult and not easy by any stretch, and part of me simply does not want to do it.  I selfishly just want a break from life's hard lessons... I want things to be easy for awhile.

But then there is the other part of me who is ready.  That part of me wants to choose to be brave and keep going so she doesn't get stuck in her sadness and be forever unable to feel true joy or hope again.  She wants to dig in and push through the fear of the unknown.  She has that whisper of hope in her heart.  I wish all of me could feel that way and be 100% ready to jump forward into life has for me next... but I'm not there yet.

Perhaps that is why God establishes these "natural" nudges - (time off ending, medical clearance, heart whispers and the like)... so that eventually we have to return to living and can't get stuck in particular seasons of life-good or bad.  He knows us and knows how much risking being brave can cost us, so by nudging us forward to the end of our diving boards, he brings us to the point where we get to choose whether our story will be one of courage and adventure, or one of self-induced safety and possible regret or disappointment with life.  We do eventually all get to choose our adventure and our role in our story... and a big "eventually" for me is tomorrow.  I have to decide how I will choose to proceed... or, I should say,  I get to decide.

So I have walked to the end of this diving board and am trying to psych myself up to be brave and jump off into my next chapter and begin swimming again.  I'm not looking forward to it, but I also know it's a must-jump situation for me because honestly, I could feel exactly same way I do now clear into July if I don't push myself a little bit!  For me, there will never be an easy day to jump into the water, so it may as well be tomorrow.  I'm extremely grateful to know there is a Life Guard who is watching over me and who promises to continue teaching me how to swim and survive in these crazy waters of life.  I know I'm not alone, but even knowing He's there and will continue to sustain me, I'm still afraid of what is ahead and I know it will not be an easy path.  But I'm going to put on my invisible courage wings and jump anyways.  I'm choosing to trust the Lover of my heart because He's ever so gently telling me, "It's time."

 

Photo ® | courtesy of alastairhumphreys.com, thank you Al