7.27.2012

From the hurricane perspective... I will take whiny.

In the off time of the hospital, and of Judah, I have had the luxury from time to time of emailing friends and even visiting some while I was in Boise (thanks to the wonderful helpful parents I have). I have had the joy of visiting with people (3 friends!) and of going to the church I grew up in and was married in... and I have gotten to finally pursue mildly normal relationships.

But they all seem so stunted.

I'm not sure if it's the heartworld that we are in, or just the drama that surrounds our lives (that I would love to stop being a part of too)- but some relationships grow easier than others.... and typically those relationships are with people who have had some kind of trauma in their world too. Whether the trauma is emotional, physical, spiritual (or all three)... We can talk. And talk, and talk.

I want the luxury of being normal- having normal friends with normal problems... But I can't relate at this point.

When someone complains about their kid's whining... I try really hard to put myself in their shoes, but I can't help but roll my inside eyes and tell Nicholas... "I wish Gabe was whiny."

Don't get me wrong, I have heard my fair share of whining- and sighed a big sigh of relief when it turns to laughter... But my world isn't normal and hasn't been for a year and a half, at the very minimum.

I'm still stuck in hurricane Katrina over here, and hearing about someone's funnel cloud that almost touched the ground in their backyard- though is a legitimate worry- doesn't make me as sympathetic to their plight as I wish I could be.

I wish my biggest concern was whether Gabe was formula fed or not. I wish I was wondering if he would start walking soon or next year some-time.

I wish his first birthday was going to be at home, out of the hospital.

So if I seem distant, if I seem mildly disconnected, it's because I am.

There is simply no way of being in the middle of a hurricane to bend down to the ground and really appreciate the small quams of a normal day.. Because a normal day sounds like heaven.

I want colic. I want whiny. I want smiles that come from ten minutes of acting ridiculous (or longer). I want spit up and to be able to change a diaper without ten billion cords getting in the way.

I want a cordless baby- a baby who isn't on morphine, ativan, methadone, epi, heparin, and many other medications....

So if you see me walking by glancing at your baby's first birthday pictures with barely an acknowledgement, it's not because I am not thrilled for you, because I am so thrilled for you. I wouldn't wish anyone to be feeling sorry for me or to be going through what we have been going through... But it stings a little sometimes- to be so far away from real.

Someday we will get there, in time there will be a way. But for now I am going to be doing my best to hold my ear to the ground in the least painful ways I can.

Sometimes that means backing away from the people I care about, just for a time, so I can try to breathe out long enough to come back with a clear head.

I do love everyone, but yes, I am not ready for normal people relationships. Hopefully someday- when the clouds return to earth in an array of dust, I can brush off and start over with a handshake.

Please forgive me in the meantime.

2 comments:

Kristin Hankins said...

Julia, I think that is totally understandable. Take care. :)

The Blogger said...

I love this, and how I relate. Obviously, in a different way, but I do relate. I love your family just the way you are right now. But I am praying for complete healing and restoration. :)

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