Happy Birthday

Last week I celebrated a birthday.  I marked this date the same way I have for 27 years, quietly and alone, even without the birthday boy.  As a teenager I had given this child up for adoption.  The father of the child had walked away from the situation, and at a time when my family was still mourning the death of my sister, I was ill equipped to take care of him.

I knew from that point I would be honest to any future children about this child, but I needed to wait for the subject to arise.  It did one day when Curtis was in elementary school.  He asked me if I ever had to go to court for anything.  I told him I had to go to give up my parental rights.  His only reaction was a disappointed "Oh, is that it?", as if the story wasn't juicy enough.  Over the years he periodically had questions for me, making me believe he held this child close to his heart too.  He even helped me, inadvertently, spill the beans to Emily. 

I know that some people think of this as a selfish act, but I did this for him.  I wanted more for him than I was able to offer at the time.  I think of it as one of the most selfless acts, I loved him enough to give him more.   It was one of the most difficult things in my life, only overshadowed by the death of Curtis.  I have thought of this child often over the years, but not as much as in the last year.  I have never regretted the decision, but I wonder why after giving up one, I have to suffer the loss of another?  I have thought often in the last year why some, seemingly, go through life unscathed, while others suffer so much?  I'm not only talking about my own situation, I know many people who have had one thing after another.  There is no answer to this question, but it is something I think of.

I hope to someday meet my child.  It has always been my belief that I will leave it up to him to make the choice to meet me.  That thought was briefly changed after Curits' death, I desperately wanted that connection, but it wouldn't be fair to him, and there was no replacing my loss.  The thought of him out there, happy and healthy still gives me hope.  Happy Birthday son.

An Ordinary Friday?

On an ordinary Friday about a year ago I went to work.  While checking my days schedule, I noticed a name of someone I had never seen before.  Another girl in the office knew her and told me that her teenage son had drown a few years earlier.  I was stunned, how do you get through something like that? 

During the appointment I was having trouble making conversation.  I didn't know her, and should not have known about her history, besides I was dealing with my own demons.  Ever since Curtis had deployed to Iraq in 2008, it was a subject that could creep into my mind as a possibility more times than I could count, but I would  always stop myself and say "NO, he is fine, he is coming home to me safe!"  Now I was faced, one on one, with someone who knew this pain.  I couldn't find a way to broach the subject. The idea of what I would do if I lost Curtis stopped me from saying anything to her.  I felt awful after she left, but not as bad as I felt only a few hours later when I found out that when I was seeing that patient, Curtis had already been dead for three hours.

Was she sent to me for a reason and I squandered it?  Not that she could have said anything to ease the pain of losing a child, or given any advice at that moment that would have made any sense to me, but I could have listened to her and let her talk about her son.  How could I have her in my chair for 50 minutes and not mention it, or say how sorry I was?   It's strange how this one hour almost a year ago still troubles me when only a few hours after this happened my life took such a drastic change.  I still know nothing about this woman other than she lost her son so tragically, but she made an impact on my life that she will probably never know.  I have come to hate the saying "Everything happens for a reason", but in this case I believe it is true.

Strength & Courage

I have heard  many times over the past year people saying how strong I am.  I honestly don't feel very strong, I am only enduring what has been dealt to me.  When people say to me, "I wouldn't be able to do it", it makes me angry.  Of course they would, just like me, they have no other choice!   I know that it is meant as a compliment, but it makes it sound as if they care for their children more than I do.  I try not to hold on to this anger for any length, it gets me nowhere, and again, I know people are just trying to help. 

I found this poem recently, and I think it is closer to what others are trying to say.

It takes strength to be certain,
It takes courage to have doubts.

It takes strength to fit in,
It takes courage to stand out.

It takes strength to share a friend's pain,
It takes courage to feel your own pain.

It takes strength to hide your own pain,
It takes courage to show it and deal with it.

It takes strength to stand guard,
It takes courage to let down your guard.

It takes strength to conquer,
It takes courage to surrender.

It takes strength to endure abuse,
It takes courage to stop it.

It takes strength to stand alone,
It takes courage to lean on another.

It takes strength to love,
It takes courage to be loved.

It takes strength to survive,
It takes courage to live.

                     Sylvia Kelly

I can see now that I have strength and courage, it just needed to be presented to me in a way I could understand.

Vacation

Dave and I are leaving for Cancun on Friday.  Although I am happy to go, I get a feeling that others around me are more excited for me. 

It has been a strange lead up to this trip.  Usually Dave and I would research every aspect of our vacation, feeling that half our trip is in the planning.  Looking at flights, places to stay and what there is to do to "keep us busy".  This time we went to a travel planner that I know and told her what we wanted in a resort, and didn't care where we ended up.  We don't have one single thing planned for the entire week we are gone.

I guess it's that I feel a sense of guilt over this.  I know it sounds illogical, but I can't escape the feeling.  How can I go somewhere so wonderful and enjoy myself when Curtis will never experience such things?  Don't get me wrong, Curtis did alot of living in his short 20 years, we made sure of that, and we are so glad we did, but it is what I think of every time I do something.  Maybe this is why we chose a very different vacation than the usual ski trip we have taken over the last several years.  Will this be something I do for the rest of my life?  Will the feeling lessen?

When we get into the sun and warmth, I know I will relax and enjoy myself.  Maybe I don't need to frantically run from one thing to the next to get everything out of my trip.  This is a true lesson I have learned over the last year, to stop and enjoy what it is I have, not what I don't, even though it isn't easy sometimes.