Mix of emotions

I am a mix of emotions.  The grief process is not for the faint of heart.  Or maybe it is, you just stretch, grow, and discover that you can endure more than you ever thought possible, because you simply don't have a choice.

The past few weeks have been busy.  Much has happened.  This spring I had learned of a teaching job opening.  I am certified (or was, it is currently expired) to teach business and economics at the secondary level.  I learned after graduation that there are not many openings.  Unfortunately my certification is very specialized.  A business teaching position, at the high school in our district, and only part-time.  It sounded too good to be true, but I initially said no.  I was pregnant, due just weeks before the start of school, and my certification is expired.  With some encouragement I went in, talked with the principal, and applied for the position.  I decided it would be in God's hands.  I began prepping for my interview on Memorial Day weekend.  The more I prepped, the more I was reminded of how much time the job would demand.  It wouldn't just be three hours away from Koen.  On Sunday night while tucking Hackett into bed he asked if when Koen started preschool would I go back to work.  We were doing a good job hiding this opportunity from him, not wanting to burden my worrier with what-if's.  Hackett then said please don't ever make Koen and I go to daycare, mom.  We have been beyond blessed with the ability for me to stay home.  Hackett is an anxious little guy who needs security and he finds that comfort with his mama.  Staying at home with him has been a gift, for both of us.  I went downstairs, sat on Kevin's lap and cried.  I decided I couldn't do this.  If having me around was so important to Hackett that he wanted the same for his brother, then I was done.  Money and my own career desires were not enough to take away my time from Koen.  The next morning I went into labor.

A few weeks after Koen's birth I decided to hold to my decision to pull myself from the interview process, I just wasn't ready.  A few weeks ago the opportunity presented itself again.  This time I was ready, I was stronger, and I needed it.  God's hand has been on me, even in this valley.  I will be teaching business at our local high school this year.  It truly is my dream job.  I love high school aged kids, their humor, their energy, and their need to still have someone care.  I am thrilled.  I have felt happy.  My energies are focused on Hackett and this new job.  I have not visited Koen's grave as often, and it feels good to have some of the heaviness off of my chest.  But at the same time I feel guilt.  My baby is dead.

My emotions are so jumbled.  The morning of the interview I called Kevin crying.  I was so excited by this opportunity, but my grief hit me.  I told Kev that what I really wanted to do this year was hold my baby.  Even in my excitement there is heartache.  We took Hackett to an amusement park this week.  We all love roller coasters and were ready for a fun day.  While waiting in line for a ride, tears rolled down my face behind my sunglasses.  Clearly marked at every ride was a sign that showed a picture of a baby inside of a pregnant belly and stated that you should not ride if pregnant.  We were supposed to be having a fun day, but fun and happy can feel so uncomfortable right now.  I am thankful for my sunglasses and my now expert ability to buck up for my Hackett - he had a great day.

Today I am preparing for my colonoscopy tomorrow.  I went last week to see a gastroenterology specialist.  As he quizzed me over possible symptoms my answer was "no" to every question.  The only symptom I have is that my baby died of E. coli while he was in my body and we don't know how it happened.  It is gut wrenching.  In the past few weeks I have had to get blood drawn multiple times.  Tests, and more tests, all to rule things out.  Poor Hackett now knows the drill, stand in the corner and look the other way, because he has no interest in seeing mom get poked with a needle.  This is not how I envisioned our lazy days of summer, but this is my reality.  Tomorrow is unfortunately also my reality.  Instead of having Koen in 11 days, I go in to get my colon scoped to help us determine how he died.  Not fair, so not fair. 

I am up, I am down.  I can't seem to feel one emotion, without feeling the pull of another in the opposite direction.  My emotions are a virtual yo-yo.