January 25, 2011

Losing my Omentum: The Unexpected and Faith 1

I need to post.

I often have posts floating in my head, and only stress from work keeps me from writing.

As I sit here in my pajamas on a Tuesday morning, healing and partially invalid,  I have no stress from work technically, but I am perplexed as what to say, yet at the same time drawn to write.

I need to post.

My last post sits like a little shining beacon from only a few weeks ago. An unwitting message in a bottle to myself. A message from days ago but from a world away.

The only way I can reconcile writing this long post, and losing most readers is to write as though to one of my dearest childhood friends who now lives thousands of miles away.

After all, I don't know for sure what a blog is... but I love it. It's a record of our lives in Karamoja and inbetween- but above all, it is a record of our lives. And being able to look back and see where I was last January, the January before and even the January before is a gift I love to reopen again and again.

So here is where I am now.

I hope I don't lose you all.
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Where I've Been (Losing my Omentum: The Unexpected and Faith)

Dear friend,

It's been ages. I had high hopes of writing regularly and here I am again on the failed side of that promise. I hope life is well for you where you are; that the sun shines on your face regularly and that you take the time to step outside, breathe it in and feel like a little girl again; that the cares of the world can come rolling off of you and leave you free and light.


I feel miles away from the little girl I once was and have literally found myself looking down at myself and seeing my own grandmother many many years ago, as we helped her in and out of bed, and in and out of chairs.. I see her in me as she helplessly shuffled through the house looking out windows and weakly waving at things she couldn't reach and breathing words she was too weak to say.

I am miles away from the little girl I once was.


Did I tell you I am pregnant? I meant to... Or at least I posted it here and on facebook which are poor excuses for really reaching out to those you love. Either way, I am pregnant. We have waited for years. Hoped for years and longed for years for this time to come. For us to enter this stage. I've also feared it. I've not wanted to give myself over completely to a new life... To be chained for the rest of my days to a person who may not love me back and to whom I will forever love more than they love me. For years before we got pregnant I feared the inevitable battle of being true to my faith and letting my baby go before it was even born... How do I trust God implicitly in my life, but then realistically with a child I already feel a fierce bond with?

I contemplated not having a child for this reason... Knowing I would struggle to trust God with their lives when they were young, at friends' houses, whitewater rafting, going to college and beyond.

But here I am. Pregnant. Taking the plunge. Scared and thrilled.


Let me be honest, there was also the literal fear of losing myself... I mean, my body. Only a woman can know how your body will forever be changed by this little life. I can never fully go back to the little girl I was before.

So fastforward to two weeks ago. Despite these fears, we have waited patiently to get pregnant at "just the right time" (I scoff now). I knew I wanted to be married for X amount of years before etc. So we waited. And now, at this ripe young age, I found myself pregnant.

I expected to have a happy easy pregnancy but it wasn't happening like that. And the most surprising thing of all, is that when I explained my pains, not one pregnant woman or woman who had been with child said, "Me too!".

On the contrary, most people said they were sorry and a few said I should talk to my doctor. But you know I'm hard headed.

During my second trimester I planned a BabyMoon. Ever since I had heard of this concept, a beach getaway for husband and wife before the baby comes, I knew I had to do it. I love the beach and this was a great excuse.

So we bought nonrefundable tickets to Puerto Rico. I'd be feeling great by then (or as great as I could be) I figured.

I should be in Puerto Rico today, not in my pink jammies.

Also, my accountability group of three other girls had talked and got excited for months about getting away to the mountains in New Mexico for a "just girl" weekend. They all have children, and planned accordingly, their husbands took off work and our weekend was scheduled for the week before Puerto Rico.

Everything was perfect. I had entered my second trimester, my nausea was waning and I had the cabin then the beach to look forward to during a hard time of the school year and weeks of feeling bad to forget.

But that's when the unexpected hit.

I've talked too much already. I know you have responsibilities and kids running around and dishes to wash... The next part of the story picks up momentum (ironically) so I will save it for tomorrow.

This is a selfish letter and only about me and my feelings. Burn it if you wish. But in my pink jammies it is the only direction I could go.

Til tomorrow friend,
Georgia

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