Left to Hope
"Like the wheat fields where more grain is sown than can ripen, God seemed to sprinkle extra children about, and harvest them according to some indecipherable, divine calendar." M.L. Stedman
Life is changing. I am changing. It is said change is inevitable. Indeed. Change is beautiful but painful. There is pain in shedding the old skin but relief in donning the new epidermis. It's a scary thing to shed old, once reliable "truths" and intimidating to realize new ones. You want to keep the old skin but it's already flaking and blowing away in winds of time. The person you were even yesterday won't last to fight the battles of tomorrow. So shed the old, on with the new.
My thoughts are sporadic, clustered in random bursts, jumbled up like the pieces of a puzzle broken apart in its box. It's a process to put them together and make sense of the big picture. What is going on in that mind of yours, Sabrina? Who are you when you are alone? When you are not under the influence of those who are stronger minded than you? In the moments that I am absolutely alone and basking in quiet solitude, my mind drifts and everything that has been tucked below the surface, bubbles up, frothing at the fringes of my consciousness.
Angry thoughts, peaceful ones, a little brooding, a little corny joke scattered randomly here and there, the positive affirmations I forgot to recite to myself in the morning because I was rushing from waking up late, memories floating across my eyes' stage, a song that's been stuck in my head, the irritation I have with the politics of the work place, the empathy I feel for the ones who suffer the most from the indignant and ridiculous world conflicts between nations (the children cry the most, die unfair deaths, and if mercy does not take them away from the strife, they are left behind with such a small fragment of hope which very few humans will grant them their hopes and dreams for something better).
And then there....in the deepest trenches of my cognizance, I feel it. Those deep, dark, gloomy, errant thoughts. I am currently reading The Light Between Oceans by M. L. Stedman. This book has allowed so many very dark, demoralizing thoughts to surface.
I love my son with all of my soul. He is the love and light of my life. But once upon a time, I felt very strongly that I should have never become a parent. I wrote once in a journal:
"I wonder if I wanted children only because it was expected....I wonder if deep within, I actually never wanted children. It is a terrifying undertaking. I feel like there are iron chains wrapped around my neck a hundred times over, tightening, choking the life out of me. The tremendous responsibility for another soul. To keep a soul alive physically, emotionally, mentally. Feeding my son is easy, cleaning him is a cinch. But this very innocent and pure being will grow up under my influence and guidance. HOW DO I DO THIS WHEN I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM, WHAT I STAND FOR, AND WHERE I'M GOING IN LIFE?!!?"
I am scared shitless, petrified that this wonderfully magnificent child will be ruined by my failures. And he will end up hating me. I read back on my journal entries from my miscarriages, from the time I got divorced. And more and more, this feeling swells like cancer. I do NOT want anymore children.
I connected with the character in this book, Isabel. Baby killer. It was never meant to be. And yet, here is Isaac. My mark of mercy. My solace. My peace at at time when I was too weak to find the will to live with the guilt of losing a brother. And yet in the back recesses of my ever stupid, overthinking brain resides the thought that there is no guarantee. I will bleed, kill, die and sacrifice for my lil man but there is no guarantee that I will succeed at being a half way decent parent. Death comes unexpectedly. I'm certain of that more than anything else in my life. The pain of losing close, loved ones never leaves you. NEVER. So you're left to just hope and you survive on that hope no matter how small and insignificant it might seem. Hope to feel the light of those souls you barely knew but loved so much. One day. Maybe. Until then, I refuse to be a baby killer again.
My thoughts are sporadic, clustered in random bursts, jumbled up like the pieces of a puzzle broken apart in its box. It's a process to put them together and make sense of the big picture. What is going on in that mind of yours, Sabrina? Who are you when you are alone? When you are not under the influence of those who are stronger minded than you? In the moments that I am absolutely alone and basking in quiet solitude, my mind drifts and everything that has been tucked below the surface, bubbles up, frothing at the fringes of my consciousness.
Angry thoughts, peaceful ones, a little brooding, a little corny joke scattered randomly here and there, the positive affirmations I forgot to recite to myself in the morning because I was rushing from waking up late, memories floating across my eyes' stage, a song that's been stuck in my head, the irritation I have with the politics of the work place, the empathy I feel for the ones who suffer the most from the indignant and ridiculous world conflicts between nations (the children cry the most, die unfair deaths, and if mercy does not take them away from the strife, they are left behind with such a small fragment of hope which very few humans will grant them their hopes and dreams for something better).
And then there....in the deepest trenches of my cognizance, I feel it. Those deep, dark, gloomy, errant thoughts. I am currently reading The Light Between Oceans by M. L. Stedman. This book has allowed so many very dark, demoralizing thoughts to surface.
I love my son with all of my soul. He is the love and light of my life. But once upon a time, I felt very strongly that I should have never become a parent. I wrote once in a journal:
"I wonder if I wanted children only because it was expected....I wonder if deep within, I actually never wanted children. It is a terrifying undertaking. I feel like there are iron chains wrapped around my neck a hundred times over, tightening, choking the life out of me. The tremendous responsibility for another soul. To keep a soul alive physically, emotionally, mentally. Feeding my son is easy, cleaning him is a cinch. But this very innocent and pure being will grow up under my influence and guidance. HOW DO I DO THIS WHEN I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM, WHAT I STAND FOR, AND WHERE I'M GOING IN LIFE?!!?"
I am scared shitless, petrified that this wonderfully magnificent child will be ruined by my failures. And he will end up hating me. I read back on my journal entries from my miscarriages, from the time I got divorced. And more and more, this feeling swells like cancer. I do NOT want anymore children.
I connected with the character in this book, Isabel. Baby killer. It was never meant to be. And yet, here is Isaac. My mark of mercy. My solace. My peace at at time when I was too weak to find the will to live with the guilt of losing a brother. And yet in the back recesses of my ever stupid, overthinking brain resides the thought that there is no guarantee. I will bleed, kill, die and sacrifice for my lil man but there is no guarantee that I will succeed at being a half way decent parent. Death comes unexpectedly. I'm certain of that more than anything else in my life. The pain of losing close, loved ones never leaves you. NEVER. So you're left to just hope and you survive on that hope no matter how small and insignificant it might seem. Hope to feel the light of those souls you barely knew but loved so much. One day. Maybe. Until then, I refuse to be a baby killer again.
"There are no guarantees that conception will lead to a live birth or that birth would lead to a life of any great length......"
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