In 3 days we’ll get in the car, drive to the hospital, get prepped for the operating room, and then say hello to baby #5.
Before these past few years, I categorized things, everything, into “good” and “bad”. I did this especially with my feelings. As long as life remains under some threshold of categorization-managability, this works for us. It worked for me. Having categories was useful. It helped me know what the heck was going on. Is this good? No? Ok, something has to change. Having categories somehow gave me a plan, or a sense of control, or at the very least, it gave me something to do. I don’t know what’s going on. I’ll categorize things. But at some point, I think for all of us, life passes the threshold and things become un-categorizable. That’s what happened for us a few years ago. Things weren’t “good” or “bad”. They were both. Or they were neither. Things just were.
When this life-and-feelings-and-everything-are-no-longer-categorizable thing happens to us, it’s tempting to keep trying to categorize - we don’t know how else to approach life. It doesn’t work, but we keep trying. It’s also how the world around us relates. How is your day? Bad? Oh no, why? (what can be done) Good? Great! I’m happy to sign off on that status.
Life was never categorizable. Even when we were young and things were simple, it was never just “good” or just “bad”.
More importantly, it was never our job to make those decisions.
We don’t have to decide which feelings and which moments are “good” and which of them are “bad”. We don’t have to figure out a way to change the “bad” moments and feelings to “good” ones.
Our job is only to live.
It’s our job to live the moments, with whatever circumstance each moment brings… It’s our job to live in the midst of the feelings, as each one comes, as multiple feelings hit us at once… It’s our job to live, leaving the deciding between “good” and “bad” to God.
Our job is only to live.
I miss Olivia so much. I’m so afraid to be in that operating room. I’m nervous and excited to meet Baby #5. I wonder what color his hair will be. I wonder if he’ll look like Olivia. I’m afraid Heather will die. I’m afraid I’ll be a coward. I’m excited to see Charlie hold a little brother. I’m afraid to hold a baby who is not Olivia.
In 3 days, while clean, cold water rushes through our deep, open wounds; while God carefully mends our broken hearts; as each moment and each feeling comes, we will do our job. “Good” or “bad” or neither or both, we will live these moments.