My trip to DPS to renew my license

My oldest niece is going to the DPS today to take her permit test.  I am going to the DPS to renew my license.  We are both girls (ahem, I still consider myself a girl) which means...

pictures

Which means...

makeup

and hair

and jewelry

and deciding what shirt you want to wear for the next 12 years.  (In your driver's license photo anyway)

When I was 15 & 16, getting my permit and then my license, this was great fun!  I spent the whole morning (of every day the week prior) thinking and planning.

Today, I am 38.  As I got out of the bathtub and started blowdrying my hair, it dawned on me...

Next time I have to do this will be when I turn fifty.

Wow.  My mom is 50 (not really, but in my mind she is)

Today, my oldest is 14.  When I renew next time my youngest will be 14.

Today my youngest is 2.  When I renew next time, my oldest will be 26.

Today I have 5 children.  When I renew next time I might be a grandmother.

As I think back to the last time I renewed my license, I realize what an entirely different person I am today.  

Last time, I was 26.

I was pregnant with my 2nd child.

Not only CT mourns

"While you are remembering the children of CT, remember too the families of the nearly 10,000 children who died this year from other causes, and the 10,000 that died last year, and the year before that. If you look around you, you will find families who are grieving the loss of a child, and while it might not be as concentrated and violent as the CT tragedy, it is just as real and painful to them." 

This was my Facebook post today, on the day that our nation has taken time out to memorialize the children and adults lost in the Sandy Hook Elementary / Newton, CT mass shooting last week.  Almost instantly, friends "liked" and commented, and shared.  You see, I am one of those bereaved parents.

6 years ago, we faced the unimaginable things that the families in Connecticut have faced this week.  Choosing a casket for your child (they are so tiny; it breaks your heart a thousand times again).  Choosing what to wear to your child's funeral ("I don't want to wear black, it's not appropriate for children, but I don't want people to think that I'm not grieving either").  Going home empty handed (How can I go back home without my child, but how can I be anywhere that they weren't?) Finding the lost shoe, the "baby's first Christmas" items that are no longer needed, the first "family photo" with an incomplete family.

2007 - our first "family photo" without Ian.  Preparing for it was  very traumatic.  We  probably wouldn't have gone if it weren't for the fact that it was for our church directory.

2012 - The Year's Best

2012 - The Year's Best by noel-giger featuring a rose lace dress

Style That Sweater with Old Navy

Style That Sweater with Old Navy by noel-giger featuring old navy

Face the fear

Today a fellow bereaved mom, still fresh in her grief posted about holding a baby for the first time since her son passed away.  She shared her fears and why she didn't want to hold another baby.  She finished by saying: 

"just know that when you are faced with holding a baby again the sweet innocence they share with you in your moment does help heal a small part of you"

My first time to hold a baby after Ian's death was also healing.  It was only about 2 weeks after Ian passed away.  The niece of a close friend was born the day before Ian - she came to visit while I was there at my friend's house.  My friend asked if I could hold her while they brought some things in from the car.

She was fussy and as soon as I took her into my arms, she quieted down.  I held her close to me and closed my eyes - but only for a moment... it was too easy to pretend that she was Ian.  The mom came in and wondered aloud how I got her to calm down and my friend said "she's a mom with experience!" and then it dawned on everyone how hard it must be for me - I saw it in their eyes.  I looked down at the baby girl and gave her her bottle, then handed her back to mom.  

It was a terrible and blessed experience.  Cathartic, I believe is what they call it.  

It is only through facing our fears and the toughest moments of life, then living to tell about it, that we grow into ourselves.