The Fall

You get to the edge of the ledge. Your legs are strapped tightly, and hooked to a harness at your waste, and you have a rope dangling in between both of your legs.Your heart races, because you know what is about to come. You know how this is SUPPOSED to go, and you are hoping that everything goes smoothly, and you live to tell the story. The man standing behind you, yells, through the wind that is whipping your hair around, "It's time to jump!! Ready? 3-2-1.......BUNGEE!!!" And for some reason, you listen to him, you trust him, and you jump. You jump, with everything you are, and everything you have. You fall.....fall.......fall.......fall, and finally, your body tightens, as the chord tightens, and you are thrust back upwards towards the ledge. You fall again, and bound back up again, 3 to 4 more times. Finally, after the bouncing has stopped, you hang there for a minute, alone, up side down, reflecting on what you just did. Your adrenaline is still pumping, almost harder than it did before you jumped. You look out onto the beautiful sunset, and realize you just did something great, and amazing. Something that most people are too scared to do, and you were too, but you faced it, and did it anyways. You are slowly brought back up to the ledge from where you started at, and are greeted by your friends and family that came with you, by hugs and cheers and praise, hugging and congratulating you.

The last few weeks, I have been reflecting on the night that I found out that my daughter was not alive anymore, and I would have to deliver her right away. I felt like the person standing at the ledge. I knew what was to come, but I was scared to do it. As I am now 22 weeks pregnant with our son, I can't help but experience constant fear, and constant reminders. I am consumed by fear, sadness, and a guard that I have put on myself, so I won't get too excited about this baby, just in case something happens again. When I think of this new baby, I can't help but think of Ellie. I cannot picture this baby, I can only picture her.

A few days ago, I was driving home at night. I caught myself driving, and wishing someone would call me and tell me to come over or to meet them somewhere, because I just wanted to drive and drive and not come back, as if that would help anything. As I drove, I remembered, when I first lost Ellie, that first month afterwards, I was so distraught and heart broken, and lost. I felt like I wanted to crash my car into a wall. I didn't want to die, nothing like that. I wanted to have that feeling of recovery again. I felt like I was never going to get better. I felt like I was in a constant state of reliving things over and over again, in a constant state of grief, and I couldn't get out of it, and I just wanted to feel relief again, and know that I was able to heal from something still. As I drove home, in the longest way possible, I thought about bungee jumping. How, what I am feeling, now, about 9 months later, is similar to that, except I haven't felt that rebound yet. I feel like I am just falling, and I am waiting for that big moment, when everything falls into place, that fear is gone, guarding myself is gone, and loving myself and my family wasn't so difficult.

Sunday was the first Sunday back to church, after Stake Conference. I had no desire to go to church. The Thursday before, we had an activity with the girls. I was sitting there, helping them with their Personal Progress, and expressing the importance of it, and all the while, I was thinking, "What's the difference? What does any of it matter? Bad things will still happen, no matter what things you are doing right. Who cares about any of it anymore?" One of my girls from church said they needed help with a talk. She came over to my house that night, and as we talked about what she would speak on, and I gave her idea. At that moment, I was grateful for my calling. When I am feeling low, and negative, and my thoughts are ugly, that's when my calling becomes overwhelming, and all consuming, and it makes me take myself out of my own grief and sorrow, and focus on someone else, and helping them with their problems.

Many days, I don't want to do anything but be a hermit and never leave my house. I don't want to see anyone, or talk to anyone, or be anyone. I just want to disappear. Those are the days when I'm just free falling. But one thing I am FINALLY starting to realize is, that chord, wrapped so tightly around my waste and around my ankles, is my Heavenly Father, just waiting for me to ask for his help, waiting for me to allow Him to love me and to help me, and as soon as I am brave enough to say when, He will tighten the chord and I will bound back up to Him, and feel peace again. I don't do my part enough, I think.

I do find quiet, in my head, at the Temple. I feel my Father and Heaven, sitting with me there, with his arm around my shoulders, and my daughters hand on mine, as they rest in my lap. I wish I could go more often, but I think that's one of the sacrifices you make as a stay at home mom. You're not always able to go as often as you'd like. I just want to feel that peace more often, and know that my daughter is happy for this new baby brother, that is about to enter into our family. I want to know that she is happy. I want to know that she knows I love her. I wish she was here. But when I'm there, sitting in the Celestial room, I feel it, and it is a relief.

Lately, the days are getting harder, and scarier as this new little life prepares to enter the world. I just have to keep reminding myself of the amazing lessons I've learned along this difficult journey. I have to hold fast to my testimony. I know, eventually, I will feel the rebound. I will feel the peace. And all will be well again. I just have to remember to not lose hope, and not lose my faith in what I know to be true.