FTW

First. Thought. Wrong.

Within the first 6 months of my sobriety, I had a crash course in powerlessness, and all I could do was give it to God. At that time, my relationship with Him was, well, dubious. I began, then, to understand that I had better keep my heart linked to Him in the calm(er) times, because when “life showed up” I would need to have a straight path to His throne.

No self-pity for me, thanks

When I told people about my baby’s medical condition, some of them would get a pitying (my perception) look on their face. I can appreciate that, now. I mean, what are ypu supposed to say/do in that situation?
At that time, however, I had learned to compartmentalize my feelings about it. I don’t know how much I ever stopped doing that, even after living with the situation for this long.

It’s not about me

My mindset, during that awkward moment when the person was feeling sorry for me (again, my perception, at the time) was matter-of-fact: My baby is fragile, and my existence at this time is entirely about caring for him. I didn’t have time for my feelings in the matter. I also didn’t have the energy for dealing with my feelings. They were irrelevant. It was Not. About. Me.

Not feeling can’t be a fulltime thing

That’s not to say that I never let the feelings out. I cried a lot at the Children’s hospital. And I cried and cussed at meetings. A lot. Because it was safe, there, to feel.

I had someone ask me “Don’t you ever wonder ‘Why me’?” And that is a thing that I’ve wrestled with, for sure. The answer I found, for me, is “Why not me?”
At the women’s treatment facility where I lived when I had B, there were a LOT of babies. Perfect and beautiful. My baby was beautiful, to be sure…but why did we get dealt the sh*tty hand?

Roll them dice

I have concluded that terrible things just ARE. I’m certainly no better or worse than the women who were blessed with healthy babies. Sure, some things are the natural consequences of poor choices. And other things are just a roll of the dice.

but God

But I haven’t gone through a minute of it alone. I’ve run back into His waiting arms. And I continue to do so. It’s all I can do.

Posted from my hut in the forest.

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