Graduation

Prom and graduation are approaching fast.

It's weird and hard being in the throes of toddler parenting when I thought I would be planning a graduation party and have a house full of teenagers soaking up as much time together as possible before scattering for college.

Tim and I are ragged out and on edge. Interrupted sleep isn't helping. Thank you to An Inch of Gray readers on Facebook for the gentle advice on helping Andrew sleep past 5:12 a.m. We've had a bit of progress this week, but we're still so darn tired. "Andrew liked the, um, bread. You know, the brown kind," Tim says. "Wheat." I reply. We talk about, "that thing" and "that other thing" and do a lot of pointing because our brains are mushy.

But guess what?

Jack and Margaret's high school asked me to be a graduation speaker!

I was overwhelmed with gratitude because that means that Jack is remembered, even 5 1/2 years later. Through Jack's death, the students have learned important lessons about grief and being supportive, and I believe those lessons and their kind hearts will have positive consequences in the world. They didn't think in terms of "Dead kid, how depressing! Let's not drag down our big day by listening to his mother speak." Instead, perhaps they remembered what it was like in 7th grade to have their moms and dads stop, hug them extra tight, and give them a naked glimpse into the fierce love of a parent that goes way beyond grades, achievement, or even likability-- a sacred glimpse brought on by death of a boy just their age somewhere across town.

I thought about the offer for a few days and then declined. Yes, it would have been difficult, but I often surprise myself by doing the next hard thing that comes my way. Speaking is one of my favorite things. However, when I pictured what it would be like to go to the beautiful venue and be surrounded by happy parents and kids I've known forever, but then have to drive away alone, I decided to cut myself some slack and decline.

Sigh.

Would you do me a favor these next few weeks? Would you remember Jack this prom and graduation season? I know it's hard to picture him as an 18 year old, but let's try to do it anyway.

And while he doesn't get to graduate from high school and I don't graduate from missing him, there's still a place for him in the festivities, in our town, our world, and in our lives.

Love never dies.

Falling Hard

So remember how on Sunday I stumbled and it set of a rush of cathartic tears?

Well, last night I really did FALL. Our kitchen was gutted on Tuesday (exciting! terrifying! expensive!) and I was showing Tim around the empty space when he got home from work. I didn't realize that the flooring was uneven, and before I knew it, I rolled my ankle, pitched forward, and ended up sprawled on the sub floor.  I yelled at poor Tim when he tried to help me up, as if he had somehow been responsible. Ugh.

It didn't feel like I'd landed on the baby-- only my shoulders, hip and knee. I was heading out to a speaking engagement, but before I left I was able to get out the mini doppler machine a friend gave me and hear the baby's heartbeat, loud and strong. Thank God!

At the speaking engagement, I had a wonderful time connecting with amazing women in my community and arrived home at close to 10 pm.

Around 1 a.m. I was in the middle of a a bad dream, a la the movie Misery, with Kathy Bates taking an axe handle and bludgeoning my foot. My first thought was, "Yay! If I'm dreaming, that means I'm sleeping!" My second thought was, "I need to pee." Standing up to head to the bathroom, I crumpled to the ground. My foot was really messed up. The rest of the night was spent in a recliner, with my foot on ice (thank you, Tim!)

Today I'm holed up in our bedroom. My foot is throbbing. Tim is staying home from work to help me, and he has devised a line of chairs for me to hang onto while I hop to the bathroom. We are talking about trying to get me to the doctor later today, and I know that's wise, but I am in too much pain to contemplate getting from here to there at this point.

Is it weird that my foot only hurt a little bit when I rolled it,  but it started throbbing 6 hours later?

Right now I'm trying the I.C.E approach: ice, compression, elevation, and making sure I feel plenty of  movement from the baby.

I'll update you as I find out more, but I wanted to ask for prayers. THANK YOU, FRIENDS!

UPDATE: 

Went to urgent care and found out it was a "bad sprain" made worse by weakened ligaments because of pregnancy. Settled in for the long haul of healing...but guess what? The very next day the pain was cut in half. And today, Saturday, I feel 95% better! Thank you for your prayers and concern! So grateful and relieved!

God Wink

I had the honor of speaking at First Presbyterian Church of Richmond, VA on Tuesday night. The topic was "Embracing the Mystery of God during Hard Times." I don't always speak about God at events. I also share my thoughts on writing, issues women face, and of course, grief. Usually it's a little bit of everything. I was a tad nervous about sharing so openly about faith because I figured there were a lot of grieving people there, and I don't ever want to come across as trying to push my beliefs on someone else, especially someone who is hurting. So, I just decided to do what seems to work best-- be myself-- and hope for the best.

I appreciated the warm hospitality, the thoughtful questions, and the stories that people shared with me during the book signing portion of the evening. As I had guessed, there were many people in that room, are there are in this blog space, who are dealing with great challenges with tenacity and grace.

Yesterday, I was home on my computer watching the video from the night before to make sure I hadn't said anything too annoying or off-putting. Tell me I'm not the only one who goes home from a party, event, or casual interaction and second guesses every darn word!

At 21 minutes into the video, I said this regarding Jack's death: "I wasn't sure whether I could survive the loss of Jack." I hoped those words conveyed just how ludicrous and impossible and painful it seemed to me at the beginning that I'd have to go on living without him.

The moment I said it, my computer, which had sat dormant for too long as I watched, switched to screen saver mode. During this mode, random images scroll across my screen. They could be family pictures, clip art, quotes I like, or pictures of boy bands Margaret has downloaded.

This is what came up when I said "I wasn't sure I could survive the loss of Jack"

Way Cool.