We’ve plowed through the last few months doing so many things; prepping for the holiday season and pulling off an incredible toy and book drive that shattered all of our goals thanks to the help and support of our new and amazing community. At times, I’ve had to consciously pause, allow myself to feel, and take steps to try to ensure there won’t be a major January crash this time around. There have been difficult times for my little herd, too. Moving through the holidays, Caleb’s death date, and birthday always brings up raw emotions. We had a couple of lovies that really struggled with angry, grumpy feelings this year. We had to be mindful of where those feelings were coming from and make sure we pulled them aside to give them a chance to let the deep stuff out, let the tears flow.
In the midst of it all, I’m continuing to wrestle with that emotional struggle of feeling the heart connection with our new itty bitty babe. I’m so very excited and my head is fully aware of the squirmy one doing a gymnastics routine inside me. It’s still hard to fully break down the protective walls. The ones that fly up at the thought of anything going wrong, at the risk every minute of every day that life and a happy ending aren’t a guarantee. I learned the hard way that my intuition, my pleas, my instinct, my actions aren’t always enough.
And that terrifies me.
I’ve felt fairly awful the last couple of days. Everything hurts. My back keeps spasming, headaches abound, my entire body aches, and I’m not sleeping well. I broke down at 3 a.m. New Year’s Day and asked my loving husband to say a prayer over me, or give me a blessing as we call it. Then, I slept. I slept with only waking twice! With that sleep came a dream of my Caleb. Not a horrid nightmare that has so often been the case, but a dream.
My little daredevil climber managed to climb a utility tower and perch himself on the platform at the top. This is were the dream started. I found myself at the bottom, frantically trying to get him to come down as Brig climbed up. I pleaded with everyone to get a bucket truck over faster, to get something in place to catch him if he fell, but everything moved in slow motion. So, I positioned myself in front of the platform where my stinker stood.
Then, just as Brig was about to wrap his daddy arms around him, he wiggled, giggled, and fell.
I reached out my arms, got underneath him, and caught him in an awkward way that resulted in his right leg flopping to the side as I squatted to absorb the momentum of the fall which led to his foot hitting the ground. I looked at his thick, muscular leg and knew it was broken. Yet, he didn’t cry. I cried. I pulled him in close and he snuggled in like always. I could feel his hot breath on my neck as I carefully carried him away to get checked out. My dream then skipped ahead to him with his newly cast leg, not letting it slow him down too much. He was home, he was safe, and I saved him.
This time, I was enough.
For the first time since Caleb died, I was enough. I’ve had many nightmares like this. Nightmares replaying that night. Nightmares like this one where my efforts failed. The recurring one has involved him playing on train tracks with me chained to the platform wall, unable to reach him, and I watch as the train comes into the station and he disappears. Not this time.
This time, he sent me a little gift. A reminder that I can be, and usually am, enough. That, while life doesn’t always turn out the way we’d like despite our best efforts, that’s all we have to offer. Sometimes, the train comes. Sometimes, the catch is awkward. Sometimes, we are left broken or bruised. The point is, we did our best.
So, hello New Year and thanks for the reminder, Bub.