That's the Thing About Blogging

We all know if you don't write it, then it never really happened. Right?

A month ago my sister came over with the kids...greeting card in hand and a heart full of self reproach. She was 6 weeks pregnant. My husband washed the dishes. He couldn't do or say anything but wash the dishes. I told her I would love this child as much as I love the other two, but I needed her to relax and enjoy this pregnancy. Her last pregnancy should be savored. Every moment.

She asked me to go to the ultrasound and try as I might I just couldn't put my big girl panties on and make it happen.  Thankfully, she was more than understanding. She told me I should blog about it because she knows it helps me. She told me if I wanted she wouldn't read just this post, or this month, or this blog. It was entirely up to me.

Now that I've had my breakdown I'm okay. I sat on the kitchen floor and sobbed. I let my stinky little puppy lick every tear from my face and my sweet husband pick me up, hold me and tell me our turn would happen.

I struggled. Again. I cried, got drunk, got belligerent and said some hateful things to God.

It took me a month to write this because I just had to get to a point where I could write it and not be completely hysterical. I don't want my little niece or nephew to look back and see that I didn't love them. I want them to look back and see that I understand they are the greatest gift God could ever give and I love them so much that I want to know how it feels to be a mommy and not just an aunt.

Sisterly Love

So, my sister and I bonded in a big way. I was praying for the right moment, the right opportunity, to speak my heart when she opened up and said the unexpected. These where things I knew in my heart, but wasn't able to really see as the truth because she denied it so much. Funny thing is you can feel miles apart from someone, have totally different struggles, but when you get down to it you both have the same faulty wiring.

Sam and I are nothing alike. We were never close as children. She was seven years younger than me. I spent the first 3 years of her life adoring her...until she wanted to copy me, follow me, do everything I did...about age 13 or 14 I decided I needed space from the whole family. I felt like I was suffocating in a secret. A lie. This secret was way past ripe. It was rotting. Right off the vine. It made me stink to the core. Sam didn't get the courtesy of full disclosure because of her age. Looking back, I see how this made it that much harder for her to understand my separation from her.

For a long time I dealt with feelings that I couldn't seem to make other people (therapists, counselors, pastors, mentors, my husband) understand. I felt like I abandoned her. I left her behind. She was safe, but I left during that time where our age made us worlds apart and wondered if we would ever be true friends. As young adults we were kind to one another, but I would have never thought of her when I was listing friends.

The grief, anxiety and self hate I was suffering with was eating at her too. In my gut I knew all along she was hurting, but her tornado went a different way from my hurricane. While we were both volatile forces, we both dealt with it in our own ways. Somehow opening that door and letting everything out brought us to a place of understanding. She and I both were hurt by things out of our control.

I love my sister. I always have, but we're different now and I am happy for this change.