Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Facing Transition

Transitions.  They're hard.  I'm not good at them.  And I've been struggling lately.  A heavy hearted kind of struggling. 

We've decided, I think, that our family is complete.  I don't know about the complete part, but we think we are done trying to add to it.  Realistically, it's probably the right idea.  For a lot of reasons.  And all of those reasons make sense, but my heart--oh, my heart.  It's sad.

I had to switch out baby Lincoln's 3-6 month clothes for his 9-12 month clothes, and I couldn't get past that lump in my throat.  It threw me into a dark place.  A mourning spot.  I didn't finish.  I walked away from the piles of little onsies and sleepers and tiny socks and shoes, and left them there.  Maybe when I was stronger?  More ready?  Luckily, sweet Mr. Wicke silently took over, and when I came in a day later, it was done.  All packed away into a plastic bin.  The bin is still sitting there...staring at me.

Transitions.  Leaving one stage of life behind.  Completely.  I don't like it.

I turned 39 this week, which isn't so bad, but I feel my feet planted on the inevitable road to another trasition.  Another marker of no return.  The older I get the more I feel like life is just a wisp of smoke.  Visible for a moment and then swept away by the winds of something ever so much bigger.  How quickly it passes.

Perhaps that feeling has been made more tangible this week as I have sat in a hospital with a woman facing death.  As a double mastectomy turned to the overwhelming news of stage 4 cancer, I have sat with her, prayed with her, and cried with her, but I am helpless to make this transition easier.  My heart, it hurts.   

Transitions.  They're hard.  I'm not good at them, but I guess that wrestling with them is the only way through.  Then, maybe, when we poke our heads out the other side we'll find that we've transitioned to someplace surely different, but somplace just as good, maybe even better, with a new happiness waiting for us. 

I think that's what they call faith. 

And while I struggle, I'll keep one hand grasped on that hope.  It has to be enough to pull me through the darkness until I see the light again.      

8 comments:

Elder Nicholas Sinks said...

Transition is hard....and unfortunately there is just no way around it. After I had Natalie I felt the same way you do now. I knew she was my last, and how blessed I was to have two beautiful children, a boy and a girl. Lot's don't even get that. But I felt the deep dark sadness of not having another child. Due to health, it was for the best, and I knew it. Unfortunately I felt that way for years, and still (she is 13) get that sad feeling now and than. I wish I could tell you it gets better...sorry! Now I look at it in a differant light....in eight years I could have grandbabies;) Hang in there and pray for comfort and guidance.
{HUGS}

Britany said...

Don't get rid of the bin yet - I did and now I am gathering more clothes! :)

Hang in there - you are one woman of faith!

Kathy said...

I feel your heartache. I was only able to have 2 children - and still, still wish for more, but somehow I grew too old, and now I'm a Grandmother. My life is simply not complete without my babies around. I'm not really needed for much of anything anymore except a little advice about fluoride and fevers and what to make for supper, and advice on song choices. Savor every moment... You're so fortunate to be able to stay home with Lincoln. I regret that part of my life - sending my babies to babysitters because I HAD to work. Do you remember when I took care of Logan during Evan's funeral? I did not hear a bit of what was spoken or sang, but early on in the service I looked over at you while you were chasing Logan for the 3rd time out of the chapel, and a feeling just came to me that I should go to you and offer my help so that you could be with your family. I remember her curly hair. I am close to Cresta and I feel as though I've always been part of your family. You are all special to me. Kiss that sweet baby for me, K?
Hugs...

Shana said...

You sound a lot like my sister Tamara. She is in that stage right now and even though her head tells her that she is done have children, her heart sometimes is another story. She told me just the other day that it is a very sad and strange thing to officially say that she is out of the stage to where she can have another child. That she is too old for that. (her words, not mine)
As mothers I think we struggle with that transistion so much more because, crazy as it seems at times, we crave that baby stage, or being pregnant and giving birth.
You are an AMAZING mother! I'm so happy that you were able to have three wonderful children. You will know in your heart when the right time is to move into the next phase of your life.
Remember- when one door closes, another one opens.
I love you. XOXO

Jennifer said...

I'm sorry that you've been going through the heartache of your own transition while also helping your friend in hers. You are both in my prayers. Laurel, if I were dealing with cancer, you are somebody I would want holding my hand and praying for me. You are such a strong, loving, faithful woman of God. Hang in there!

Love you!

Caroline said...

Laurel,
I hope you don't care that I read your blog a bit ...ok, a lot. This post hit home as I have wondered at what point I am in this family process. It truly is a transition. One that, for me, has been difficult. Thank you so much for your thoughts.

(Alice's sister by the way)

Audrey said...

Ah, so true. I have come to a place of acceptance that our family, as it looks now, may be the way it is meant to be...no news of new babies in our midst. But I am so totally content in God's provision, as I know you are :) Because he knows the beginning and the end.

Seasons change in our lives and as women, our role as mommy totally shapes our lives from the second we become a mom. Nothing we did before compares to this journey. We are forever changed!

Katie said...

I am going through the same thing right now. My husband really is done having children and I know in my heart that if I pushed anymore on him it would be really really bad.

I am kind of mourning the baby period. Reese is walking and thinking he is so big and I just can't take it. I, like you, am hoping for a higher power to help me through this. I just love being the mom of little ones.

But I love my husband so I am sure I will get through it. Besides I am sure it is just the first of many heartbreaks motherhood brings!

Stay strong!