WARNING: This post is graphic and not for the weak at heart.
There’s nothing quite like having a song stuck in your head and then realizing you have a platform to share that song. Just about the time I thought my brain would burst with all the words I haven’t had an opportunity to put on paper in the last week, all the words started disappearing. At some point over the last two days, in Ms. Pac-Man fashion, song lyrics started chomping away at all the beautiful things I planned to put on paper. So, instead of having a brilliant opener to discuss the circle of life, we’ll just have to settle for being fancy. ;)
Fancy or not, life is a doozy. I’ve always been a big-picture kind of girl. While pursuing my business degree I went the macroeconomics path. When I begin a writing project I start with the overall theme and then fill in the details. I rarely (if ever) catch the local news, but I can usually tell you what’s going on across several continents. Being a big-picture kind of girl is downright painful at this point in history. Humanity has watched in horror over the past few weeks as the world has embarked on a journey to hell in a handbasket.
War is everywhere. Airplanes have fallen from or been shot from the sky. ISIS may (or may not have) issued a fatwa ordering that all girls and women have their genitals mutilated. The media is softening the perception of what happens in that process by calling it FGM. I have nothing against acronyms. But in this case, the acronym does not do justice. It should be called what it is: Female Genital Mutilation. If it’s a foreign idea to you, click that link above and get educated. It is barbaric and horrific and the fact that it still happens all across the planet just proves that mankind is still far from being civilized.
While chewing on all the big-picture ugliness I’ve been dealing with a few little-picture challenges. For starters, our local school system has declared that the public schools can no longer meet the needs of our darling daughter. The good news is that the county is going to pay for private placement at a local autism day school where her needs can be met. Next, I’ve been pursuing a full-service publishing contract all summer. It’s a long, drawn-out learning process and the biggest lesson has been that yeses to query letters do not always equal yeses to a book proposal. I may have a business degree, but I do not like the business side of publishing and I’m kinda ready for this step in the process to be done already. Lastly, a few months ago I shared that I had a biopsy done on my uterus. This week I’m having the whole darn thing removed (my genitals will remain intact). Over the last few weeks, as the world hopped in its handbasket, I’ve embarked on my own hellish journey. My emotions have been all over the place. Every little detail of life has been hard.
Lamentations 3:28-30 MSG When life is heavy and hard to take,
go off by yourself. Enter the silence.
Bow in prayer. Don’t ask questions:
Wait for hope to appear.
Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face.
The “worst” is never the worst.
I have talked to countless women who exclaim, “My hysterectomy was the best thing I ever did!” When I ask them if they were sad or experienced grief before surgery, the common response is, “Yes. It is so final.” or “Yes. I grieved the end of my fertility.” With each of these responses I have resisted the urge to scream, “NO!! THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!! I’M GRIEVING MY BABIES!!”
If you don’t know, my first two babies are not here. The last place I had physical contact with them was in my womb. Losing that place where five of my babies became life is what I’m grieving. I know that I know that I know that I am done having children. Just the thought of caring for a newborn makes me need a nap. Besides, if our family were to ever grow again it would be through adoption. No. I’m not sad about losing the ability to reproduce. However, I am incredibly sad that the only home my first two babies lived in will soon be gone.
In all my sadness and in torrential rains I showed up at the hospital for my pre-op appointment. My doctor told me in June that surgery would be on August 15th and her nurse called me to schedule the pre-op for the 12th. About halfway through the pre-admission process I learned that the surgery is actually scheduled for the 14th. As I tried to mentally process how to get everything that I planned to do over the next two days accomplished in only one, I missed the name of the young soldier who asked me to follow her to her office. I was still trying to sort out our family calendar in my brain when I sat across from her and she began to laugh-cry. Like that crazy kind of laugh-cry that makes you wonder if you need to quickly move far away from someone or prepare to tackle them. Her outburst of emotion immediately cleared the family calendar from my mind and made me wonder what I was witnessing. In response to whatever crazy look I gave her she said, “I’m so sorry. I’m four and a half months pregnant and I just felt my baby move for the first time.” And so it goes…. the circle of life.
Because I really do care about each person who reads what I write, I will be gracious and replace the song in your head. You’re welcome. And… you’re still fancy. ;)