I have been thinking a lot lately about expectations.   Most of us assume great things will happen along our lifespan.  We grow up, graduate high school, then college, get married, careers begin, babies are made and parents we become.  We have labeled our lives with certain expectations to arrive on our timeline without much thought for curves in the road. 

Our society is not one to shed light on misfortune.  We are proud, tending to share only the good news.  Now when I say the word, share, I mean that we get would get involved, rejoicing with those who rejoice, mourning with those who mourn, bearing each others  burdens, kind of sharing.  We expect mostly for others to think well of us and to forget the not so good things that show up in life.  The expectations are there that we are succeeding in life, we are proud, and good almost always.

What expectations do you have for your life? What happens when your expectations are not met?  What is your reaction?

 I relate mostly to the expectations of motherhood.  I expected that when I decided it was time to stop birth control and get pregnant that it would happen.  I never even thought of the possibility of infertility and the years some couples tread through to become pregnant.  I expected every appointment to be happy and exciting and take home amazing little images of healthy growing babies.  I never thought I would be in line with statistics that one in five women will miscarry their babies.  I expected to make it half way in pregnancy for the very special gender ultrasound and leave with dreams and exciting fantasies of princesses or cars and trucks.  I never saw it coming that babies in the belly could sit on the fence of life or death.  I expected to fill in my baby book with an amazing birth story and all the firsts that come in year number one.  I never expected the fear surrounding birth or the sadness in burying my baby. 

Isn’t it interesting that we term pregnant women to be “expecting” parents? I hope that someday in a pregnancy  I can feel like an “expecting” mother.  For today, I am pregnant, 8 weeks, and desperately wishing for the expectations of a first pregnancy and baby to take home.  I am happy, excited, prayerful, but not expecting.

Surprise! We are due June 28, 2012

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity.” Jeremiah 29:11-14

 
I desperately want to feel normal these days. Most of the time I walk around and imagine people see me with a black cloud hovering just above me.  Warning, beware, uncomfortable. 
But this last week was as close to feeling normal as I've been in awhile. I spent two days with family who has also experienced traumatic loss.  We got to swap photos, tell our birthing stories, and flow our children in and out of conversation. It was great. I didn't have to worry if I spoke too much about my girl, I was understood by someone in person. Sigh of relief.
I'm working on me in some ways now.  I just sent an email to a prayer partner today and described a lot of what I've been feeling and praying for. I'll share that here also...


Maggie in the hospital has been the best and worst days of my life.  Actually, the worst has probably come afterward.  It's crazy how much support was so apparent in the thick of it all and then people move on.  And I can't.  How can I? I've done the best I can to find balance between her and the world that has moved on, but this is hardest thing yet. I would imagine someone who has takes home a child, their child is a great part of the conversations, pictures are shared and their child is asked about.  But now I've had the child and feel like I am missing these things even though these things are my desire.  I know I can share openly, I just haven't met the balance yet of feeling like all involved are comfortable with it.  I describe it best that it seems I have a black cloud that hovers above me, and that's how I'm viewed.  Probably not actually, but it's what I imagine.  How much can someone handle before they are overwhelmed or don't want to talk or spend time with me again?  It's probably in my head mostly, but that's what I perceive. That is one of my greatest struggles now. I want to feel like I have more to contribute than a sad face and sad story.  Might be a little while yet. 
My other greatest struggle is friends.  I have never have many close friends. My husband has a couple of guy friends that started showing up at the house once a week to spend time with him.  They knew he needed that and did it without being asked. They just said, we are coming over to grill dinner with you and have been coming every week now.  They talk about sports, their jobs, music, and when my husband needs to talk about Maggie, they listen.  He needs that. I am jealous.  I have had plenty of people tell me "when you're ready call me".  I had been in no position to call.  I've wanted someone to show up, and be present, and know I'm cared about like he has been.  
So I've been praying for friends.  I've just recently felt up to getting out more and being social.  I really love my days at home alone, but it's nice now and then to have someone check in on you in person.  So I've been feeling pretty down about that. I've been getting cards in the mail every couple of weeks from people from a distance, but local is where I need more I guess. Finally I've realized that more has to come from my end of things.  So I've put calls out this week and booked lunch dates.  And I'm praying for friends.  I desire genuine friends who want to spend time with me, enjoy my company, have a compassionate heart and understanding for my loss and the needs that follow. I need that.
Maybe you've heard this from me before.  Sorry.  It's seems sad reading through these words I just wrote.  But that's my life these days, sad.  I desire normalcy.
 I spent much of the day today with a work friend. I felt normal today, and it feels good. I got to laugh. I'm making friends.