Our beach gettaway

Several people have been asking us how we are doing lately. We have really felt so much support and love from many of you this week. I know this would have been so much harder without all of the support. So thank you for asking us how we are doing. That has meant a lot.

We have been at the coast these past 3 days. My aunt Sharon has generously let us use her adorable beach house as a much needed getaway. The weather has been warm and sunny like a June day! Nate and I took a lot of walks down the beach and naps in the sand. We lounged around the house, spent time journaling and talking with each other and of course took breaks to go shopping and eat clam chowder. It’s been a really refreshing time for us. I really like talking with Nate. He is such a good listener and knows just the right things to say. Spending time with him has been the best part of this trip.

During our talks this week we've realized that grief looks so much different than we thought it would. I expected to be in tears for months. And honestly I felt guilty when my tears stopped after a few short days. My head had been pounding with head aches. Our eyes were so puffy that they looked like they were swollen shut. But then our grief suddenly changed to days and days full of laughter! It just seemed so unnatural to be laughing. Some of those times I know were needed for our own personal healing. It is exhausting to be in tears for so long. Our bodies craved a release. And for us laughing is a favorite outlet.
Most of our laughter came from Nate retelling stories of his own childhood. Anyone who has been fortunate enough to hear these stories knows that his childhood was full of hilarious moments! Toga parties, “Donny Varney Specials,” Marathons, special music with Cory during chapels are just a few of the stories. He later admitted to me that retelling these moments were his way of coping with reality. Those memories were joyful and safe to think about and he was craving joyful memories.

I know we are still grieving even if it is in the strange form of laughter. We crave comfort foods (chocolate!!), we stare off into space, we forget the other person is in the room sometimes, we look at children who walk by and become sad. We saw a young couple walking down the beach with their little toddler and I know we were both wondering what their lives were like. We have been drawn to activities that we wanted to do with our son. I was reading Nate children’s book the other day and holding him like I would hold a child. I just craved that same feeling of comforting a person. I wanted to fill my arms with someone.
I told him that I was looking forward to the 3am feedings. I was already in the routine of getting up early in the middle of the night. I was looking forward to seeing a little Forbes in the middle of the night who I could comfort.
Thinking of those thoughts really makes me want to have a baby again. We have talked some about having another child, but that’s just it, the next child would be ANOTHER child. We cannot replace Isaac with another baby. And just because I want to do all those motherly things I need to mourn this loss before we try to engage in a new life. It would not be fair for our second baby to feel their purpose in life was to comfort our grief. They need to know and feel like they were anticipated just as much. I do want to fully mourn for Isaac. It will be a long road.
Knitting mittens have also been a huge part of my grieving process. Knitting mittens you say? Ya, I thought that was odd too, but when we came home that second night all I could think about was how much I needed to finish knitting those mittens. I grabbed them up and went to work. In just a half of a day I was finished with a beautiful pair of green mittens. Why was that so important to me? I needed to be a part of making something that was finished that I could hold, admire, and know that it was good. It was so hard for me to know that our son was not able to get all of the chromosomes or whatever he was lacking to be a fully healthy baby boy. And there was nothing that we could have done, but with the mittens I could make them and finish them.
It was healing to complete that.

As I think back to who we were this last summer before we found out we were going to be parents, I quickly realize we are not the same people. The thought of us having a child and of us actually going through the birthing process has changed us. We have moved up to a new level as a couple. We are now parents. Even though we don’t have Isaac with us, we are still parents. We won’t have a child to give us a mothers or fathers day gift this year, but we will still give them to each other. We are after all parents to Isaac. We may have only carried him for 15 weeks, but as one of my favorite authors once said,
“A person is a person no matter how small” – Dr. Seuss.