Learning to Breathe

When I was in High School, one of my favorite songs was "Learning to Breathe" by Switchfoot, and in the past few days that song has really been on my mind, especially these words:

"I never thought that I could fall like that, never knew that I could hurt this bad.  I'm learning to breathe.  I'm learning to crawl.  I'm finding that you and you alone can break my fall.  I'm living again, awake and alive.  I'm dying to breathe in these abundant skies."

It's as if the song was written for me.  In the past few days I feel like someone hit a magical "reset" button on my life.  Sitting in the ultrasound room at the hospital, I remember having this moment after the doctor came in when I thought to myself, "I'm actually not sure if I have breathed in the last thirty minutes."  Obviously I had, or I would have been passed out on the floor.  But I couldn't remember breathing.  I felt like someone was sitting on my chest, keeping me from pulling oxygen into my body.  I had to remind myself to breathe.

I think we all face moments in life when we forget to breathe.  Some of those moments are better than others.  The day that Cameron was born was a whirlwind.  My labor from start to finish was about three hours long.  I pushed for about 15-20 minutes which is almost unheard of for a first time mom.  The funny part though is that I was so focused, and so intent on getting my child OUT, that I wasn't thinking about breathing.  There were people yelling at me, including my husband telling me that I needed to breathe.  I remember thinking, "I don't need to breathe, I just need to push."

I can, of course, laugh about it now.  It's ridiculous.  Of course I needed to breathe.  But in the moment, you're doing your best to focus on one thing at a time, and breathing was not a priority.  My priority was serving an eviction notice to my child who insisted on staying in the womb for 8 days past his due date.

This week was not one of those happy times, but my thought process was the same.  I wasn't sure if I was breathing, but in the moment what I needed was not to breathe, what I needed was to push through.  I needed to get out, I needed to be free.  I needed to think.

But it's not easy...

I literally feel like I've had to learn to breathe this week.  I feel like someone punched me in the gut and knocked all the wind out of me and I just can't remember how to get it back.  Nothing makes me happy.  Let me clarify that I don't mean that I'm depressed.  I'm heartbroken, but not depressed.  I watched a funny movie last night and I actually laughed.  It wasn't a fake forced laugh either.  I mean I laughed to the point of crying and it felt great.  I laugh at crazy things that Cameron is doing all the time.  He keeps me in stitches.

The problem is that I almost feel guilty when I laugh, or when I'm happy.  I know that I don't need to.  I don't need anyone to tell me that.  It's just how I feel.  And blame it on being a finicky woman anyway, and adding hormones and heartache to all of this mess and my thoughts get even crazier.  I can't understand how everyone's lives seem to just be moving along as if nothing happened.  I feel like the world should stop for everyone, because this week, my world certainly stopped... at least for a little while.  But at the same time, I need people to be strong, to laugh, to be positive so that I can be positive too.

It's crazy, and it's painful, and it SUCKS.

I'm learning to breathe.  I'm learning to begin again.  I'm struggling to accept my situation and this crappy hand that my family has been dealt this week.  I can't change it.  I can't fix it.  I can't make it better.  I just have to learn to breathe, to crawl, and to depend on God in those moments when I just need to crash.

One of the hardest things this week has been when it comes to our family prayer at the dinner table.  Every time we pray for our food, we close our prayer with Cameron by saying "Thank you for Mommy, and Daddy, and Baby Cameron, and our new baby."  It's been incredibly difficult and painful realizing that our prayer won't be the same anymore.  That may seem like a small thing, but it really hurts.  We still pray for Taylor and thank God for her, but instead of having a tone of hope and excitement, it now has a tone of sorrow and anguish.

One thing I did promise myself about this blog is that every day I post, I'll finish with a blessing.  It's good for me, I think, and a good way to remind myself that there is hope.  So I'll close with this...

Last night things were going pretty well, but as is the case these days it doesn't take much for me to start crying or to get upset again.  I was sitting in the living room, watching tv and something got me started,  I don't even remember what it was now, but my sweet boy, Cameron came immediately to the rescue.  He crawled over to me, stood up, put his hand on my leg, and started blowing me kisses.  And when he blows kisses, he doesn't just do the hand gesture, but as loudly as he can he says "MEH."  It's not your typical "muah" sound, just "meh", and it's adorable.  I smiled, he smiled, and then he began giggling hysterically.  It doesn't take much to make him giggle though.  He's an absolute mess.

I'm learning to breathe.. and I'm learning that it's okay to struggle.  But every once in a while, I'm doing more than just  breathing, but I'm getting a glimpse, and a reminder, of the fact that in spite of all the pain, life is good.  God is good, and there certainly is something to hope for and hold on to.