Torn, but Hopeful.

I feel torn.  Never before have I had to talk myself into sitting down and writing.  Today is different.  I have known for about a week now that I have something brewing inside of me that needs to get out, but I have been putting it off and putting it off.


Here we are.  Today marks nine months since our baby girl died.  I don't really know what to say.  I don't really know what to do.  I feel torn.


Torn between the intense sadness of our life's situation, and the desire to be happy again.  How do I reconcile those two things?  I have never previously considered that a person would actually have to feel such conflicting emotion simultaneously.


Torn.


I miss Brynna with all that I am.  To be forced to move through this world without your child is torture. Around every corner looms the possibility that you will be taken out at the knees with a memory or an experience.  Forced back to the starting line of your sorrow.


Going to the grocery store or the bank is no longer safe.  There are babies, and little girls and pregnant women everywhere.  My heart breaks to see the happy ones cuddling their daughters, and my heart also breaks when I hear mothers complaining about being pregnant or about something their daughter did or is currently putting them through.  How I wish I could switch places with these moms.  All of them.  I would so very happily take the good with the "bad".  I wish I had the luxury of butting heads with Brynna, or being "tired of being pregnant."


I am torn.  Do I attempt to walk back out into the land of the living or do I stay safe, wrapped up in my blanket of sorrow?  That's sounds weird, right?  To feel safest in the sadness?  But it's true.  This has been our life for nine months now.  I know how to be sad.  I know how to ride the waves of grief.  I know what I need in my saddest moments, to look at her pictures, sit in her room, rock my sand baby, sleep with her nightgown, cuddle the boys and Steven closer.  What I don't know is how to be a "happy" sad person.


Torn.


I don't want the advice from outsiders.  I don't want platitudes or condolences or promises that it will "get better".  But I also don't want outsiders to disappear.  So torn.


I do feel myself, ever so slightly, emerging.  And that scares the living daylights out of me.  Does emerging from our cave of despair mean in time I will lose all perspective?  Does it mean I will lose even more of the slippery grip I have on the memory of our daughter?  I want to be happy but I am so protective of my sadness.  Protective of my grief.


I am torn.  About so very many things.  Work.  Relatives.  Friends.  Where I stand as a woman, a mother, a wife.  The list goes on...


But there is one thing that feels certain.


For seven months now, I have delved head first into educating myself and our family on adoption.  Many months ago, I wrote to Brynn and told her that her Daddy and I felt that might be where we end up, and I asked her if that would be okay.  I felt torn between cherishing the memory of our sweet daughter and seeking future happiness for our family.  Would it be "too soon"? Would we be trying to "replace" Brynna?  Would we be able to handle the hurdles that come with committing ourselves to something this huge?


What I recognize now, however, is that there is no reason to feel torn about this.  Because Brynna has us by the hands and she is leading us to her little sister.  I know this.  I feel this.  Because of our sweet baby girl, we will have another sweet baby girl.


Steven, the boys, and myself have decided to go forward with our plans for adoption.  We are currently saving the money it will take to bring our next daughter home.  Much of the money we had, has been used to pay medical bills, so the saving may take some time, but we are confident adoption is in our future.  I will sit down and write more about all of this another day, but for now please keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we trust that the love we have for our cherished baby Brynna will lead us to her baby sister.


Today marks nine months.  I miss my daughter.  I feel torn and unsure about so very much in our life.  But one thing I know is true.  She touched our hearts in ways we have yet to discover, and she is going to lead us, one painful step at a time, into our future.  And it's going to be beautiful.