|Remembering those not with us on Oct. 15|
belief that is not based on proof
On Friday I lit a candle for the babies I never held in this life. I think about them less these days, I am ashamed to admit, and whether that is the result of time passing or actually healing I'm not sure. It felt nice to stop and remind myself what an impact they've had on my life. Not all the things that came with those losses are sad. I've made friends through loss, I've connected with women around the world, and I've been taught the fine art of compassion, and while those are all good things, these benefits are tinged with grief. And while in so many ways I've moved forward, the scars of my miscarriages linger and ache in unexpected ways.
And now I sit writing this with a beautiful, healthy little girl on my lap and I feel very blessed. Not because I deserved her. Not because finally the timing was right. Mostly just because she's here and that's all that matters, and a little bit because after multiple losses over a 14 month period, I still tried.
I won't lie to you. There are many areas of my life where I've given up and walked away. Bits of novels, craft projects, half-decorated rooms, graduate school. I'm not proud of this, but I won't ignore the obvious. I might not be a quitter, but I sometimes fall short in the faith department. I lose faith that my novel is anything worth reading or that I'll ever get into better shape or that I can do laundry and still feel inspired. I've never considered myself a Doubting Thomas, but I guess we all are to a point. So much of are lives are filled with what-if's instead of remember when's.
I'd given up the month we conceived our daughter, but only in the psychotic control freak way that is my form of trying to conceive. No thermometers, no charts, no planned intercourse. I had not given up faith though. I still believed we would have another child even though there was no proof. In fact, there was only proof against us having another. I just believed and whether that was out of genuine optimism or a need to confront this nameless death in our life, I'm not sure.
In the end, I think faith is about more than proof or belief or hope - it's about having something worth fighting for. We can't expect to keep faith in all our pursuits, we all have things that are worth all we have, and this child, nursing at my breast, was worth all the fight.