A Bend

I had an interesting day a few days ago.  It was one of the first times that I felt like I could look into the future; or at least, be in the present, instead of looking to the past.  This experience has been all about looking into a place and time that isn't.  When I was pregnant, it was hard to live in the present.  I constantly looked to the future.  I carried Eli for 4 months, knowing every day (every second, really), that the time I had with him had an expiration date.  I looked to the future so much in anticipation of what was to happen.  I tried my best to live in the present during those 4 months.  I did my best to do that, knowing that this was all the time I might have with him.  I didn't know if I would have all 4 months.  I had worried that he would have to be delivered early.  Those worries diminished as I prayed and sought priesthood blessings, but it never completely disappeared.  I lived in the future in many ways.  My brain would try to go to what it would be like after he died.  That is a colossal waste of time because you really can't anticipate that sort of thing.  I knew it was a waste of my energy to think about it, but your brain has a way of going places.  As the time drew near to deliver him I constantly thought about going to the hospital.  The furthest I would allow myself to think was up until the moment when I actually delivered him.  I tried my best not to go further than that.  

And then he was born at 2:04 on November 5th.  Everything stopped in that moment.  We truly lived in the present, in a way I had never before experienced.  We lived and Eli lived.  

But at 6:55, Eli died.  And everything stood still.  

I haven't been able to move out of November.  My heart is stuck there.  My brain is stuck there.  I feel like my body is stuck there.  Things move along all around me, but I am still there.  I am in the hospital room, I am in the mortuary, I am at the cemetery.  If feels like it has been months and months since it happened, but I also wonder how the whole months of November and December, and now, January, have vanished.  I wasn't really present for any of it.  I was still living out those days in November. 

It feels as if your car is inching forward, but the only place your eyes can go is to the rear view mirror.  This is a dangerous way to drive.  WHERE you are going feels pretty irrelevant when you are only looking behind you.  You aren't trying to go anywhere, but you can't put it in park for very long...especially if you have other kids.  The days passed very slowly after Eli died.  I didn't mind it.  The thing that was separating us now was time.  I didn't want time to go by.  It made me feel like I get further and further away from him.  I almost started to panic about this.  I had wanted the clock to stop ticking before he was born and I wanted it to stop now.  So, my car has continued to inch forward, but mostly with me looking in the rear view mirror.  

But the other day, I really caught a glimpse of the the future.  I could see that I would have a life in the future.  Of course, this sounds so basic, but it felt like such a stark contrast to where my eyes have been looking.  They have been looking behind me.  For a few hours, they were looking in front of me.  Of course, I am still turned around a lot, but those moments gave me hope that maybe there was something in front of me.  I just hadn't been able to look there yet.  I'm probably going to get dizzy from spinning my head back and forth for the next little while....

A Bend in the Road

When we feel we have nothing left to give
And we are sure that the "song has ended"--
When our day seems over and the shadows fall
And the darkness of night has descended,

Where can we go to find the strength
To valiantly keep on trying,
Where can we find the hand that will dry
The tears that the heart is crying--

There's but one place to go and that is to God
And, dropping all pretense and pride,
We can pour out our problem without restraint
And gain strength with Him at our side--

And together we stand at life's crossroads
And view what we think is the end,
But God has a much bigger vision
And he tells us it's only a bend--

For the road goes on and is smoother,
And the "pause in the song" is a "rest,"
And the part that's unsung and unfinished
Is the sweetest and richest and best--

So rest and relax and grow stronger,
Let go and let God share your load,
Your work is not finished or ended,
You've just come to "a bend in the road."

Helen Steiner Rice