That's Then

There’s a song lyric from the movie Annie that goes something like this: “yesterday was plain awful/ you can say that again/ yesterday was plain awful/ but that’s not now- that’s then.”  I’ve been singing this over and over today because, well, a large portion of yesterday was plain awful. 

My nephew and brother-in-law had a joint birthday party (my nephew turned one last week) and Skip and I decided to go.  I have been around him twice now since we lost Levi, and it does more good than harm, so I embrace the chance to be around this little guy whenever I can.  Obviously, I knew he would be at the party, and I knew my sister-in-law had a close girlfriend with a three-month-old little girl who would probably be there, too.  What I did not know was that every single woman there of childbearing age would have a child-or three- in tow.  I did not know that there would be FOUR BABIES less than four months old and not one but two pregnant women thrown in the mix. 

To say the party was difficult would be an understatement.  It wasn’t so much the presence of new babies, because as you should remember, I conquered that fear weeks ago.  It was the sheer volume of them.  It was the knowledge that every stinking one of the females there had done something that I had not- delivered a breathing baby.  It was the feeling that “one of these things is not like the other ones” and I was the one thing.  I watched these parents bundle and cuddle and feed their babies, and I could literally picture us in the mix doing the same thing.  It hurt.  A LOT. 

I am more than a little proud to say that I survived the party.  I am proud that I did not lose it in front of all of those people and that I did a good job hiding my sadness and not making everyone else around me feel sorry for me.  When we got in the car to leave later that night, my eyes filled with tears as Skip told me he was proud of me, too. 

On our drive home, I reflected (out loud, of course) on the unfairness of the day.  I told Skip that most days, I feel resolved to use this tragedy for good.  I wear my intact faith in our Savior as a badge of honor and embrace the possibility that lives can and will be changed because of the way we’ve handled all of this.  I choose to be better and not bitter because of Levi’s existence and death.  Most days, I am resigned to my position as a babyloss mom.  But yesterday, it hurt too much to focus on the “good” that has come/may come/will come out of our loss.   I didn’t want to be used by God to bring Him glory.  I wanted to pout, to scream, to throw things.   I wanted to cry and beat my fists on the ground.  I wanted to tell every one of those mamas just how lucky they were just incase they had forgotten. 

 On the way to church this morning, when I thought of the awfulness of yesterday and sang that little chorus over and over, I got stuck on the last line, “But that’s not now, that’s then.”  And the thing is, I can and will have days and moments like those at the party yesterday.  There’s a good chance that for the rest of my life, birthday parties and such will be harder for me than for most.  But, I cannot allow myself to dwell on that sadness forever.  I cannot feel sorry for myself today because of something that happened yesterday.  I mean, I guess I could, but why would I even want to?  There is so much in life that I’ve been forced to realize is out of my control.  What I can control is my thought life.  What I can control is my reaction to my circumstances.  And when I am not in the moment overtaken by grief, I DO want to be used by God.  I DO want to bring Him glory.  And I know I cannot do that if I allow myself to relive every sad thing that happens to me, day in and day out.  I have to say, “That’s then” and TRY my darndest to make today less sad than yesterday.