Five years ago this month, I wrote the first post on this blog. I remember the moment vividly; a vision of snow swirling outside of my window, my favorite chair, my laptop and a cup of tea perched on the table beside it is still fresh in my mind. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but not for long. They began to fly as they could not keep up with the words they were intended to type.
So was the case for a long time thereafter. Words came easily, my fingers worked to keep up, to type my stream of thoughts into a place where others could read what I had to share. I began this blog in an attempt to heal and grieve and grow, unaware and truthfully uncaring as to who else read my emotion-fraught words. I began this blog for myself as it was the best outlet for me to process the occurrences in my life.
Five years ago this month, my little brother had been gone for a painful three months, and my husband and I had been in the throes of fertility treatment for what we naively hoped to be a brief period of time.
I was in the place of grief where life feels incomprehensible, I was still in shock and the world was swirling around me and I could not keep up - much like the snow outside of my window. On countless occasions I wanted to scream, "STOP! STOP moving. My beautiful brother is not here to move with you!"
Fertility treatment was such a new endeavor, and I was absolutely blind and unaware as to what lay ahead. I was hopeful that our journey be short. Regardless of that hope for a trip rather than a journey, or an easy fix, it felt unfair and uncertain. It was another aspect of my life that was unreal and not resembling anything I had pictured for myself.
Five years have passed. Snow is not swirling outside of my window, but there is a fresh layer on our lawn. My 17-month old son is quietly talking himself to sleep for his morning nap. I am sitting at my desk and for the first time in many months, my fingers are flying.
I've attempted a blog post many times recently and have failed to create one. My words were elusive. I couldn't complete a post.
As I reflect on these attempts, I know the lack of words was for lack of a broken heart. My blog was created in an attempt to heal my shattered self. It continued as I processed my grief and began to realize that fertility treatment was going to take time and also create pain and inadvertently loss. My heart remained broken for many reasons over those years, and so I kept pressing forward, writing and hoping and recovering.
When you lose one of your most beloved people, your heart does not ever fully recover; it does eventually commence beating in a way it hadn't before. I will always miss Matt. Basketball, the Cubs, a good movie, an even better joke, blue eyes, great music, dancing, a well-dressed young man walking down the street, laughter, huge hugs, and my son without his uncle make my heart ache for him. Your heart (my own) beats in a new rhythm after a great loss.
The pain and trauma of my time as a fertility patient have gone, and in their place there is a strength. It broke me for a long time. It broke my heart. However, as soon as I heard my son's heartbeat, saw his little foot kick inside of me, and then finally felt his fingers curl around mine, I knew that the damage that had been done would be repaired. God was moving me forward, redeeming my struggle.
Because of the healing that has occurred over the last five years, I have less and less to say on this blog that was created for that purpose. Today, I finally have something to write; a final post.
When I was pregnant, I first heard the song by Old Dominion, "No Such Thing as a Broken Heart". While it is cheesy, it is also catchy and the lyrics are cute. I would sing it to my son before he was born and when he was a newborn, we would sway to it in the living room. He loves it. He starts to shake his little butt as soon as he hears the first notes. We have "band practice" to this song (along with several of our other favorites) with his musical instruments, dance to it in the kitchen, and sing to it in the car.
The theme of the song is to encourage us all to live our lives like there is no such thing as a broken heart.
Listen here:
"No Such Thing as a Broken Heart" -Old Dominion
I loved Matt like he would never break my heart - I didn't know it would. I tried my damndest for a baby like it wouldn't break my heart - it would break it more to not be a mother.
As my heart continues to heal, it is time for me to stop exerting my efforts to create here. It is time for me to stop processing grief and infertility. That doesn't mean I will stop writing. I will always be a lover of the written word, to compose myself and also to read the words of others. I won't close this blog, as it is a bit of a time capsule for myself. It is just time for me to seek other outlets and venues for my writing.
To have great loss was to have had great love. To have great disappointment was to have given great effort. To live like there is no such thing as a broken heart is to live without fear of the unknown.
When the heart heals, it becomes stronger for the next time. There will be a next time. For now, I can rest in the joy of the difference five years make, the face of a 17-month old boy, and the closeness of a family bonded by an incredible past and a future given to us by God's grace.
*Thank you to the small, but incredibly devoted group of family and friends who have always read my posts, prayed for us, and shown me great love.
My wish for us all is minimal broken hearts, but when they occur may we embrace the beauty that might have caused the injury.
