mourning at times....

Not all the time, but many times, I mourn a lot of things.  I mourn the loss of a last normal pregnancy.  I mourn being pregnant and actually being excited about it without that feeing of dread I had this whole pregnancy. I mourn the hopefu positive birth experience I had hoped would erase my memories of the twins not so swell birth.  I mourn that I didn't take any pregnant pics of myself this pregnancy, just bc of the negativity surrounding me.  I mourn not buying anything with excitement before baby came (all bc I didn't believe he would actually make it here safely most of the time).  I mourn not holding my baby for over a week after he was born.  I mourn not being normal yet...still....9 weeks after his birth.  I mourn the normal things of going out and living life like a normal person.  I mourn the loss of my uterus at times (although I do not want anymore children), but MUCH more often mourn the loss of my belly button (even though I didn't particularily care for it when I had it). 

But when I feel down and mourning this or that, I remind myself that all of these combined are much easier to cope with then the thought of Doug and the kids mourning my loss.  Every day I am grateful for the gift of life I still am able to enjoy.  And it means more to me then shopping trips and belly buttons.  These days are especially hard at times (to be still recovering at 9 weeks), but each and every one is still a blessing.  You don't realize how good the worst of days are until you have to face the possibility of the end of your days. 

I was sitting there thinking the other day about the hardest moment of my life.  The day of my surgery, when I was wheeled into the operating room, and I was breathing in that oxygen, waiting/dreading being put to sleep and I had no idea if those moments were to be my last conscious moments on Earth.  And I think of that time as a time of beauty, although I mourn not having a *normal* birth, the love I felt for Ansen and my faith in God, giving me the strength to move on through my fear was bigger and more beautiful then anything normal could have been.  Honestly, I tear up thinking of that one solitary moment of my life.   It was terrifying, yet beautiful.  I may mourn all these things above, but I also appreciate how they have made my life more meaningful and more faith based and more faith lead.  And just plain beautiful.