I'm not together, but I'm getting there... - John Mayer

I feel like John Mayer knows my life. And because I am a big sap who cries at the drop of a hat these days, and because today my body decided to remind me that it's not preparing its womb for a baby, I am feebly fighting back tears as I write this first blog entry in a too-long dry spell.

These last few months have been a restorative blur... I quit teaching to feel like I could take some time to breathe and promptly accepted a part time job tutoring once I felt like I wasn't hyperventilating all the time. It feels like so long that I've felt like I didn't really have anyone to talk to who could fully understand how I feel. And yet, the more I began to open up about these feelings, the more God showed me just how many people He's put in my life so I never have to feel that way. I have not been abandoned by Him or by anyone else.

One day last week, I went to an embroidery shop to pick up a blanket with Orison's name and the date I miscarried on it. The very next day, I didn't think about my baby all day long until I was laying in bed that night. I cannot describe the wave of shame I felt wash over me. Monika assures me this is normal and will happen sometimes, and I don't need to feel guilty. I believe her because she's got the B. A. in psych, but I'm not sure how long it will take me to adjust to the feeling that not thinking about the baby we didn't have at least once or twice a day is not a denial of that baby.

I don't want to give the impression that I spend my days wallowing in pity or wondering why. Every once in a while, one of these emotions might sneak up on me, but more often than that, I spend my time reading, praying, listening for God to speak, keeping the cats from fighting each other, or working on my craft-of-the moment. But I've been feeling recently that by not writing I'm denying a part of myself. Writing is how I breathe. It's how I think. Oftentimes, it's how I am able to discern what it is God would have me do. And last night, I read the "thank you" list at the back of John's latest CD leaflet. He writes, "If you're reading this with an instrument in your lap - get to work, and deep in it. We all need you."

So, faithful readers, I'm back. I've picked up my instrument (the only one I have any trace of talent with). Maybe nobody else needs my writing, but I do.