Seattle Yogini

"The Depths of Despair"

This evening I was thinking about whether to post anything or not.  I don't want this to be a "blow-by-blow" account of our ordeal.  The ups and downs are exhausting enough without trying to recapture them for the blog every few nights.  On the other hand, I know that for me connecting with families who have been through this is a continual source of strength...and I recognize that I could offer comparable strength to others through our story.  Also, this is a very human - and a very spiritual - experience.  Of course I am not the only woman to lose babies.  How I handle the loss, whether I hold on to hope, my choice to resist the siren call of despair, are all part of my spiritual journey.  My spirituality both informs my choices and grows from them.

As I was thinking which way a potential post might go this evening - toward hope or toward sadness - I thought of one of my favorite parts from Anne of Green Gables.  When I was in junior high school, I absolutely loved Anne of Green Gables. I read all the books, but the movies were dreams come true for me.  I often think back to that trilogy, and how gloriously it captured my imagination which was - much like Anne's - one of my greatest gifts (and it continues to be).  I'm sure I didn't appreciate this as a child, but as an adult...and at this particular point in my life...Marilla's response to Anne's dramatic sadness seem some of the wisest words I could read:

Anne has just arrived at Green Gables, and is following Marilla up the stairs to what will be her room for the evening.  It does not appear that Marilla and Matthew will keep Anne, and so she is plunged into "the depths of despair".  Anne, an imaginative, melodramatic girl with an abiding love for literature, is all wrapped up in "The Lady of Shalott" and similar Victorian-era sad/romantic poetry.  She tells Marilla about her despair, and asks if she herself has ever been "in the depths of despair".  Marilla's curt response?  "No, I have not.  Anyone who has God cannot fall into the depths of despair."

Nota Bene:  I spent about an hour trying to find the actual quote, but apparently it's specific to the 1985 movie, and not the book itself.  I am seriously considering renting the trilogy tomorrow so that I can cozy up with it, and get the quote right.  It's just that I can't bear the part where Matthew dies...but it wouldn't do to fast forward through it, either.  Sigh.

And so it is that I find myself enjoying the God-given gift of choice.  I could choose to slip into the murky depths of despair, which interestingly feels like the easy thing to do right now.  Just let go, ease into that cool darkness and stay there for as long as it takes (or as long as I last).  Alternatively, I can hold tightly to my faith, to my understanding of God and Its work in and through my life and allow myself to be comforted.  I'm not even thinking of it as "finding" comfort, because, frankly, searching sounds too hard.  No, what I am learning is how very much I must allow myself to be comforted, cared for, loved - by God in all Its guises (husband, family, friends, students, my teachers, etc.).  I cannot fix this, I don't even know what (if anything) needs fixing.  All I can do is choose that to which I will surrender:  despair or Light.

 

I choose Light.

Gasping

So many questions, so few answers.  We have, thanks to the gift of technological ingenuity, much more information than we did when the bleeding began on Thursday morning.  We know that I was pregnant, and that now I am not.  We know that there is a mass near my right ovary (not a good sign since that's the fallopian tube in which my first pregnancy implanted).  We know that I am in less physical pain now than I was three days ago (didn't need technology to figure that one out, though).  We do not know if the mass near my ovary is scar tissue from the first ectopic, embryonic tissue from a second ectopic, or merely an ovarian cyst.  We don't know what caused the loss of this pregnancy.  We don't know if something was wrong with the baby or with me, its environment.  We don't know how to proceed except one breath at a time.

But breathing itself can become difficult.  On "doctor's orders" to rest, I find myself idle.  I'm knitting, I'm reading, I'm watching Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time and, lately, sneaking in a bit of laundry folding.  But the idleness makes me restless, and the restlessness makes me feel even more of a wreck.  I breath in and out and, suddenly, in the blink of an eye I can't breath at all.  Not at all.  I am sobbing, I am gasping for air, grasping for Grace.

We who mourn go through stages, as any psych 101 college student can tell you.  To actually go through it, though, especially under similar circumstances as the first major-mourning experience, is not like in the books.  It isn't a smooth transition from one phase to the next.  I fall back, and fall apart, just when I thought things were getting a bit better.

Some say that that which does not kill us makes us stronger.  The idea, I suppose, is that life offers us breaking down moments so that we may be re-built stronger than before.  I am waiting with baited breath for my re-building, Lord.  I am broken, I am in pieces.  I want so much to be re-built in Your image, to feel Your strength and presence, Your Light coarsing through me.  I am keenly aware that I cannot make this re-building happen.  I trust that You are my architect, foreman, and construction crew.  I believe (but would certainly love a little clarity on this matter) that my job in this is to get out of Your way...please help me do that.

Blog Break

No, the blog isn't broken, but part of me is.  The blog is on break while I recuperate from another miscarriage/possible ectopic.

Smells of a Wool House

Last night Rob came into the kitchen via the dining room and proclaimed that the dining room smells really good.  I found that interesting, because there aren't any scented candles, bowls of potpourri, incense sticks or anything of that nature in the room.  I walked in, sniffed, and detected nothing.  You know, in the same way that you can't smell your own home unless you've been gone for a few days.  I asked him what it smelled like and he said, "Well, it kind of smells like Hilltop.  I guess it's all the yarn in there."  :-)  It's official:  we live in a wool house.

It has sort of been stacking up on the sideboard....Note that this is not, officially, "the stash".  It lives upstairs.

In web-related news, I have started a flickr account.  This was in order to be able to post pictures in my Ravelry account.  For all of our England photos, as well as knitting projects 2008, you can look up Seattle Yogini in Ravelry or Flickr and find me.  Please click over and take a look, maybe that will make the neither-happy-nor-sad emoticon smile.

I won't tease you, though.  Here's the latest round-up:

"Go With the Flow Socks", pattern by Evelyn A. Clark, from Favorite Socks.  Sock one took me about two weeks of travel knitting time, and sock two is about two or three inches underway.  Yarn is Cherry Tree Hill Supersock Merino.

These are "Ruffle and Rib" from the Knitting Daily "Better Than Baby Booties" free download.  Yarn is Lorna's Laces Superwash Merino.  The pattern says I should get three pairs of booties out of one skein.  Yay!  This pair almost matches...

Last but not least, is effort number two at a Husband Sweater.  The first one was dismissed after numerous, increasingly painful, sleeve attempts.  This time, I'm using an actual pattern.  It is "The Fog Sweater" from tiennie knits.  I'm using the suggested Ecological Wool, already a favorite from the Hemlock Ring Blanket.

As you can see, I'm only an inch or so past the armpits, but plugging along with it.  I want to get the body done before it gets too hot to work on it, at which point I can happily switch to sleeves.  That is, unless the sleeves are picked up from the body....hmmmmm.....should probably read the whole pattern........

Anyway, that's what I've been up to in knitting lately.  I'm planning a summer cardigan using Rowan Calmer (my first time!).  Just starting a swatch now, though, so won't have anything to show for a bit.  I'm contemplating joining Sockapalooza again this year (which looks like it'll run for a fifth year!).  It was more fun than I thought, and particularly enjoyable to receive a pair of handknit socks from halfway around the world!  I was thinking yesterday, though, how disappointing it must be for those whose sock partner didn't finish by the send-off date.  I'm sure we all understand that things come up, but still....it would be disappointing, don't you think?

One final bit of fun:

This is my avatar.  I know that there's one reader (Hi Sam!  Miss you!) who actually knows what this is from.  Anybody else?

Whadda Man

It's Wednesday, 3:55 in the afternoon.  I meant to leave the house ten minutes ago in order to get across the 520 bridge before traffic to Bellevue gets too thick.  I'm standing in the doorway, waiting for Rob to fix a rough spot on one of my new boots.  The other boot is already on my foot.  I've already put my bags in the car (I spend almost seven hours in B'vue on Wednesday afternoon/evenings, so there's my teaching clothes, my dinner, my knitting, a drink, my meditation journal, and sometimes other things, as well).

He brings the boot, gives me a hug and a kiss and says:

"Do you have everything?"

me:  "Yes, it's already in the car."
R:  "You have your dinner?"
M:  "Yes."
R:  "Your planner?"
M:  "Nope, I shouldn't need it tonight."
R:  "Your drink?"
M:  "Uh huh, got it!"

I turn to walk out the door, and he asks:

"Do you have your knitting, honey?"

Oh, how I love this man!