Mom and I are in Iceland because I have some $ meant for Ky, extra PTO (saved for maternity leave), and well... why not. I want to do something now that I wouldn't have been able to.
I thought we could see the Northern Lights too, but turns out that can be difficult. Though we haven't had a slow day here, they're still slower than at home. I've thought of him many times this trip: writing his name in the sand because apparently that's a thing, many rainbows, golden sunbeams because the weather changes quickly, silver linings, general serene landscapes, objects shaped like whales, all the babies, and high altitudes that feel closer to heaven. Some of those reasons make sense, I have no idea why the rest remind me of him.
It is just so stinking weird remembering Ky, reminding yourself how to frame this positively, and not be sad with all things baby everywhere always around you every second all the time.
Is it selfish? Maybe strains of it are.
But this is a place for honesty, for the next girl to read and go "oh my goodness, yes, me too."
What I think about when I think of him varies. Mostly it's still the could've-beens, the "what would Kyler be doing now?" question. Sometimes it's just wondering what he looks like in heaven or really hoping he didn't hurt at all.
A new friend who lost her baby girl at 26 days old told me she spent the first few months grappling with the fact that she lost her baby, and after that she just missed her. On this trip, I've just missed him. I'm starting to realize that he did make me a mom. We have to decide how to answer "Do you have any kids?" and if/when I'm pregnant again, how to answer "Oh! Is this your first?" Especially in the hospital, where I've learned you have nearly the same conversation with every patient and everyone has a right to ask you about your pregnant belly.
I kind of feel protective of him now- even though I don't fully know his personality, I'm familiar with the memories I have. I'm just now starting to feel that maybe not everyone deserves to know the details about Kyler (an idea brought up in counseling); that instead of dropping literal bombs of information overload on 80% of people I've met lately, I can choose how many details and when (for the love, Stephanie, learn to keep your mouth shut) to share.
And that NOT sharing about him isn't necessarily dishonoring him, but maybe even a little bit honoring by holding him close.
I remember a long time ago (last week) meeting two people at my parttime job. They were talking about Jeni's and hooking the guy up with one of her friends. They're laughing, lighthearted, until I perk up with "Oh! yeah, what's heather's number? I meant to tell her I actually booked that trip to Iceland." And that somehow led into, "Oh, why Iceland? Well, let me tell you the whole backstory..."
There was no more laughing.
The guy sat down and goes, "Wait, so you mean you gave birth?"
Not wanting to overburden, I got really casual like "Yeah, I didn't even know what a stillbirth was." Just like I was telling him I drove to work in the rain or something.
I mean how do you end a conversation like that when you know everyone has patients to see, and how does anyone act like they care but not waste an hour of 'productivity' asking questions?
I'm just glad I didn't tell them I was at Jeni's 3 hours before we ended up in the hospital, and we were solidifying names there, not knowing Ky was already gone.
How on earth do you talk about what's nearly always on your mind without 1. burdening others, being a 'shadow', 2. straight talking people's heads off, or 3. regretting it, feeling guilty?
I think there's an element of self-preservation to it; a hope that if someone knows about Kyler they won't talk about how much they are 'done being pregnant' or discuss the big epidural question (I did both of those) so often in front of me, or make jokes about dead babies (yes....), or someone could help steer patient conversations away from painful topics (like that one guy that wanted to show 5 pictures of his grandson just born at St. Thomas in the same hat and blanket as Kyler).
And honestly talking about him reminds me that he's real.
I know that my story is NOT everyone's story, and I don't want it to be. I also don't want to pull a victim card. I know I can't expect everyone's story to be altered because of us, but dangit if Kyler shouldn't be here. And dangit if this isn't our story-- we are not the same people anymore.
I see that there are times and places where I can't go dropping bombs on everyone, and that those who are currently pregnant probably don't want to think about any of this at any time. Can't blame them!
I'm not sure yet what the solution is, because I do think his story is worth sharing, especially the part where God has kept us sane, given us hope, and helped us feel his goodness, reliability, and promise of heaven. He's also teaching me that my hope literally cannot be in material or earthside things. That's gotta be worth talking about.
A song that's been on my mind...
When I fear my faith will fail Christ will hold me fast
When the tempter would prevail
He will hold me fast
I could never keep my hold
Through life’s fearful path
For my love is often cold
He must hold me fast
Those He saves are His delight
Christ will hold me fast
Precious in His holy sight
He will hold me fast
He’ll not let my soul be lost
His promises shall last
Bought by Him at such a cost
He will hold me fast