how it feels when the sacred is torn from your life and you survive

Austin has gone out to meet his oldest friend in the world, Robbie. Before he left, he made sure I was happy and made me promise not to fall apart when he left. I promised him that I was fine. I lied. I thought I was fine. But that's how it goes these days. I am fine one minute and the next I'm a mess.

I am surviving. That is all I can say about myself at this point. I am not thriving, not quitting, not anything but surviving. I can't say that everyday is spent in this giant emotional, tearful state. I go about my days fairly normally...I can do everything I did before. I just do it a little more robotically than before I think. I am afraid to think too hard, be too happy, be too sad. I can't do extremes anymore without falling to pieces.

I do feel stronger, more self assured and, for some reason, more beautiful than I ever have in my life. For those of you who know me well, know I have always struggled with self doubt and H.U.G.E. self esteem issues my entire life. I've never trusted my body, always saw my flaws first, and doubted most every decision I've ever made in my life. I think I have left that girl behind. I think I started the journey of leaving her behind the second I walked into my beautiful midwives' clinic in May. Melissa, Martina and Missy helped me discover that I can trust my body and it is beautiful. I have never felt so empowered in my life. The whole time I was pregnant with Andrew, I felt like I literally shined. What an amazing thing to carry a child. I took care of myself like I never have before. I read every book I could find on natural childbirth and coached Austin on how to help me work through the pain. We were ready. Looking back on labor, I so clearly remember feeling like I was on a different wavelength than everyone else in the room...almost like I wasn't human anymore but some other superhuman birthing goddess woman. Sounds ridiculous I know, but I can't explain it any other way. I had, in true Lindsey form, doubted my ability to actually go through the pain of birth. But, I did it. I found a way to lead myself through the pain and I made it out on the other end every time. I never gave up and neither did my body. I look at myself differently now, spiritually and physically. I don't spend time in front of the mirror picking myself apart anymore. Not that I don't have my flaws because I certainly do. They just don't seem so noticeable or important to me anymore. I, for the first time ever, feel completely grown up and like a woman now and not a child. I held my child in my arms as he died. And I have survived. Some days I wish I hadn't but I did. I can again lead myself through the pain and hopefully make it out on the other end.