This is a relatively new song on my playlist. I heard it for the first time about two weeks ago, and I instantly loved it. It's uptempo and has a positive beat and melody. It's fairly impossible to listen to this song without moving some part of your body to the rhythm. (Try it) There's really no mystery about the meaning of the lyrics. She has a man who stands by her no matter what - and she is confident in that fact. Of all the unsavory things he could be doing - he isn't doing any of them. He is right there next to her. The verse that really hits home for me is this one:
When the skies are grey and all the doors are closing
And the rising pressure makes it hard to breathe
When all I need's a hand to stop the tears from falling
I will find him, I’ll find him next to me
Kenley's death is a closed door for me. And sometimes, I really could liken this time to standing in a dark hallway - anxious and alone and wondering why all of this happened. Paralyzed with grief. But, with Mike next to me, I can do this. I can get through this because he is here with me - and I am secure in the knowledge that he always will be. He is my oxygen in this void. With him next to me, I can do anything. Even survive the death of our daughter.
I have always been a fan of Pink - the musician, not the color. Her songs usually fall into one of two categories: Badass Attitude or Meaningful Melody. Songs like So What, Stupid Girls and Don't Let Me Get Me are anthems to individuality with an upbeat bass. They are songs to dance to - to jog to (if you're into that sort of thing) - to clean your house to. Some of her songs are filled with anger and rage. Others are simple determination. Pink has always refused to pigeon hole herself into the female pop star role, and I admire that about her. I always have.
Her new album has spoken to me more than any other though. It's partially because of what I am going through - and partially because she's just basically amazingly talented. Not all of her songs are rock beats that may or may not drop the F-bomb. Many of them are stunningly beautiful, soul-bearing, and heart-breaking. The raw vulnerability she shows in her songs has always spoken to me - as a writer, as a woman, and as someone who knows what it's like to feel so violently. There are a lot of her songs that apply to my life these days and those will be coming up in some future posts. This one though, is about her single "Just Give Me a Reason", which is a duet with Nate Ruess, the lead singer of Fun. To sum up the song, it's about a couple who has experienced some hard times in their relationship and are trying to figure things out again. The song begins with these words:
Right from the start
You were a thief
You stole my heart
And I your willing victim
I let you see the parts of me
That weren't all that pretty
And with every touch
you fixed them
If those aren't the perfect words to describe my relationship with Mike, I don't know what is. In the first 30 years of my life, I kept guys at arm's reach. I never let them get too close. When I met Mike, everything changed. Suddenly and completely. He is my other half - there is no question.
The song continues with Pink being concerned that something has changed in their relationship and she is afraid he is pulling away. At the same time, Nate begins to sing his part and tells her that she is making things up. He loves her just as much as always. She's not interpreting things the way they truly are. He doesn't understand what she's feeling. She doesn't understand what he's feeling.
This is what it is like to lose your child. Men and women grieve so differently, it is so easy to misinterpret your spouse's actions and intentions. Men are able to compartmentalize their emotions and deal with them in a more matter of factly kind of way. To their wives, this seems callous and cold. A woman fears he isn't grieving or that he doesn't understand the complexity of her grief. She is falling apart, why isn't he? The poor man doesn't understand why his wife is having so much trouble with her emotions. Why can't she sort through them rationally? Why is everything spilling out of her all the time? The thing is - both of them are grieving. Both of them are doing things correctly and the way they need to - it's just lost in translation. This is where communication is so important.
In the song, the two are trying to communicate with each other. They are trying to tell the other one what they need and how they feel. They sing the chorus together:
Just give me a reason
Just a little bits enough
Just a second we're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again
It's in the starsIt's been written in the scars on our heartsThat we're not broken just bentAnd we can learn to love again Just give me a reasonJust a little bit's enoughJust a second we're not broken just bentAnd we can learn to love again
Statistically, 16% of marriages do not survive the loss of a child. Objectively, I can see why. Loss changes you. When you build a relationship on who you are, when you change, the relationship also changes. If you're not willing to work on staying together - you won't. The loss will divide you. Personally, though, I am not worried.
When your heart is broken in the same places as the one you love, you have to relearn how to make it beat again. Even if you have no idea what the other person is talking about, you try your best to understand. You make yourself realize that this person is in just as much pain and needs just as much support as you do. You look at your life together as more than what it once was. Before, you loved each other with a carefree innocence - skipping through a meadow of lavender. But now, you are both hobbled by this loss and you aren't really sure how to pick yourselves up and walk on your splintered legs. So, you lean on each other. You bind your broken bones to theirs, you wrap your arms around them, and you limp forward. Slowly. Painfully. But together. And we are doing that.
That's what Pink's song says to me. Life is so much harder than it used to be. We are different. Who we are is different. How we react to things is different. But our love is the same. We don't love each other any less. We don't value each other any less. In fact, I think we value each other more. The scars on our hearts are healing together. And even though this tragedy has covered us in dirt and muck and pain, "we'll come clean".
Mike and I clutched hands and ran towards the train station. Steam rose from the engine with a hiss as it readied itself for departure. We needed to make this one! Although the train schedule was fairly regular, once this one left, we'd have to wait several weeks for another one to come by, and the journey from here to our Destination was a long one. I didn't want to keep putting these travel plans on hold. It was time to go! We scurried up the wooden steps of the platform, our shoes click-clacking as we ran. Mike clutched the metal railing on the side of the train and pulled himself up. Then, he reached out his hand to me, swinging me inside. Whew! We made it! We found our way through the car to our seats and settled ourselves in for the long ride. The scenery rushed by in a blur, but it was still beautiful. As I sat there, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like when we got to our Destination! So many of my friends had already arrived and sent me postcards and letters of their happy lives. Smiling, laughing, having a great time! I couldn't wait! It was going to be the best adventure ever! After a while, the attendant came by to punch our ticket. Mike and I handed them over. The attendant took a quick scan of the barcode. It beeped happily. He smiled and handed our tickets back to us. "Enjoy your trip!" he said to us. As the train chugged along, Mike and I chatted excitedly about the first thing we would do when we arrived at The Destination. We made plans about all the sights we would see and the fun we would have. We had heard from our friends that sometimes, this place wasn't always rainbows and sunshine like in the commercials. Sometimes, it rained pretty hard. So hard, that the howling of the wind and the rumbling of the thunder was enough to keep you up all night long. We didn't mind. We knew we could handle a few sleepless nights. It would be worth it just to be there with everyone else, where we could all finally hang out together! Over the course of our trip, the attendant came by to recheck our ticket a few times. Each time, it beeped, he smiled, and the train continued to speed along. The longer I sat in my seat, the more uncomfortable I became. My ankles started to swell from sitting down so long, my back started to ache, and I was getting really tired. Mike, being the wonderful and supportive husband that he is, rubbed my shoulders and brought me snacks. "We're almost there, Beans," he said, reassuringly. And we were! From the window of the train, I could see signs for our Destination, the number of miles next to the name getting smaller and smaller with each sign we passed. Soon! We'll be there soon! I could hardly contain my excitement. Even Mike, who was usually so cool, calm, and collected, was showing signs of joyous anticipation. The train car door slid open, and the attendant made his way to us again. One last swipe before we arrive, I thought! We pulled out our tickets and handed them over. The attendant waved his scanner over our tickets. No beep. Nothing. That's weird. It should work. "Swipe it again," I said. "I'm sure it's just a glitch in your machine." One more time. No beep. The attendant's smile vanished. "I'm sorry," he muttered, "You're going to have to exit the train." What? Exit the train? That can't be. We bought tickets for the whole trip! The ticket worked fine until now! Why, all of a sudden, when we were so close, do we have to get off? Everyone is waiting for us! I'm sure they have already made signs for our arrival! "WELCOME!" lovingly and painstakingly painted for us. What are we going to do? The attendant walked over to the side of the car and pulled a lever. With that, the train came to a sudden and screeching halt. Mike and I were thrown forward with such force we slammed into the seats in front of us and then fell to the floor. "I'm sorry" the attendant said again. "You're going to have to get off. Now." I'd hit my head against the seat pretty hard, and a soft, warm trickle of blood fell from my forehead. I was dizzy and confused. Mike looked pretty banged up too, but he stood up, brushed himself off, and then carefully and tenderly, helped me stand. I looked over at the attendant with pleading eyes, hoping he'd change his mind. He shook his head and pointed to the door. We had no choice. Our ticket didn't beep. We weren't allowed to continue to The Destination without a ticket. We hobbled to the door of the train and gingerly eased ourselves down the steps and onto the platform. As soon as our feet hit the ground, the train doors zipped closed without apologies, and the train took off like a flash. Without us. We were stranded in the middle of nowhere. We thought we were about to embark upon the biggest adventure of our lives, and now here we were. Stranded, alone, far from home, and even farther from where we wanted to be. The trains only travel in one direction - to The Destination. In order to continue our journey, we would have to start from the train station where we boarded - miles and miles and miles away. The only way to get to where we were going was to WALK all the way back home and then hope with all our might that our timing would be right enough to catch another train. When the gravity of our situation hit me, I began to sob. "We were so close!", I moaned. "Why can't we just keep going? I just want to be there! I've already waited so long! I don't want to start over!" Mike held me close and rubbed my back. With shimmering eyes, he said to me "I know, baby. I know. I don't want to start over either. But we have to. And we can do it. We can." "But what if we can't catch the train again?" "We will. We caught it the first time." He is soft and reassuring. "But what if they kick us off again? What if our ticket stops working?" "We will have to cross that bridge when we come to it, baby. I love you and we can do this. We'll get there, just little later than we thought" We called all of our friends and told them what had happened - that we weren't going to make it this time. That we were going to have to walk home and try to catch the train another time. We cried. They cried with us. We were all so excited. To fall from such great heights to such a depth of sadness is like a punch in the gut. I fell to my knees and screamed. I clutched my chest. I wanted to go so badly - and I was almost there. Almost there! I didn't want to think about having to start again, not when I had been so close! For quite a while, I sat at that train station and cried. Several trains whizzed past the station, but none of them stopped. They were someone else's train, not mine. Taking someone else to The Destination, but not me. Mike stood beside me while I moaned on the ground. Keeping watch over my grief. After what seemed like a hundred and one years, I realized I couldn't stay at this train station forever. If I ever wanted to get to the destination, I had to find my way back home. All. the. way. back. home. So, I stood up, and I brushed the dirt and dust from my coat. I picked up my suitcase, which felt so much heavier than it did before, and I took Mike's hand in mine. After one final glance into the horizon, where the sun shone bright over The Destination, we turned our backs. And we began to walk.
Several of my friends have small children. It's only natural, being our ages and positions in life. The transition from single to married to parent seems to happen in the blink of an eye. It seems that not that long ago, my friend Stephanie and I spent our weekends out on the town. And now, she is married with two kids. It seems like yesterday that my only worries were which restaurant we should eat at tonight so I have delicious leftovers tomorrow - and do you think those leftovers will keep in the car while we go to this movie? Every life that crosses with mine is vastly different than it was five years ago. Not better or worse - just not the same. In life, change is inevitable. Before I was pregnant, I loved to watch Mike interact with my friends' kids. Every girl loves a man with a baby! It stirs something up inside us - a very biological reaction, I'm sure. He has always been wonderful with kids. Making faces, doing voices, playing games. It melted my heart - and fired up my ovaries! (He doesn't want to believe this, but he's the one who gave me the Baby Rabies. I was perfectly fine until I met him. Scout's honor.) During my pregnancy, seeing him with our circle's children was even more wonderful. Look! Look at how great this man will be with our child. Our child! We created life together. I automatically transferred those actions from our friends' kids to our own. In just a few months, I thought, Mike will be making faces and doing voices for Kenley. She will be the one grabbing his hand and laughing at him. She will be the one he swings around by her arms, heads thrown back, eyes sparkling. I had a sense of security and comfort. A sense of accomplishment. I had created a family. Now, things have changed. The family I was so sure of does not exist anymore - at least not in the sense that I thought it would. Seeing Mike with our friends' children is very bittersweet now. It still warms my heart to see him laughing and playing with kids. How could it not? But, icy waves of sadness wash over me at the same time. That should be our child. He should be holding Kenley. He should be laughing with Kenley, buckling Kenley into her carseat, handing Kenley her cheerios. He would have made such a fantastic dad! I feel like I've robbed him of that chance. I feel guilty that our daughter is not here, and that he can not do those things with her. Again, I understand that is not true - but I can't help but feel it. He tells me it's ok. He tells me we will have that chance again. And we will. Many of my friends have asked me if they shouldn't bring their kids around me, but I tell them of course they should. I don't want to be sheltered. I don't want people to walk on eggshells. I want to be reminded that there is life out there. It gives me something to look forward to. I lost my baby. My husband and I are not able to be the parents we want to be right now. It's the most terrible feeling in the world, but I can't let it stop me from being who I am. And I can't let it stop me from holding on to my dreams. I want to be a mother. I want Mike to be a father. I want us to be parents together - to have a family. We will have that one day. We will. And when we do, we will also have a few things that not many other people have. We will have an intense appreciation for each other - and for our children. We will have wisdom that only comes from knowing how easily things can slip through your fingers. And we will have Kenley, always in our hearts, reminding us of just how fiercely we can love and be loved. As long as we're living...our baby she'll be.
If you did not know what a good man looks like, here is a picture of one. My husband, Mike, is one of the best men I know. Obviously, I think this because I married him. But, let me tell you, I could never have gotten through these last few weeks without him. In the face of tragedy, couples do one of two things. They come together or they fall apart. If I can find one speck of light in this utter darkness, it is the fact that I have never felt closer or more connected to my husband than I do now. Throughout the pregnancy, Mike would greet me by giving me a kiss and saying "My girl", and then bending down to my belly and saying "My baby". His excitement to be a father was plastered across his face. This is OUR loss. I can see the pain and heartache in his eyes every day, but he has been so strong for the both of us. He sits by me while I fall apart, and when I am done, he helps me pick up the pieces. In the hospital, we often sat down together and tried to make sense of this. Obviously, there is no sense to be made, but his sentiments were always the same. We would get through this together. As a team. It will be hard. It will be horrible. But, we will make it through because we are stronger together. When we were planning the wedding, I had a heck of a time figuring out what song I wanted to play when I walked down the aisle. I knew I wanted something different - and I wanted a song with words. I wanted words that echoed my feelings of love and adoration for my husband. I thought of Foo Fighters' "Miracle", Ingrid Michaelson's "The Way I am", and many others. I finally settled on "All You Need is Love" from the Across the Universe soundtrack, which was the perfect choice. For some reason, though, before that final decision was made, my heart kept migrating toward Michael Buble's "Hold On". If you have never heard this song, you must. You can do that here Isn't it a beautiful song? When I was wedding planning, I loved the message and the melody, it embodied everything about the two of us, but I held back because it had a sense of melancholy in it. It seemed like the couple in the song had undergone some tragedy and were clinging together in the storm. Since a wedding is not really the time and place for such a song, I shelved it, but it has always spoken to me. It has always held a special place in my heart. There is no way I could have known then what I know now. There is no way I could have ever imagined that one day we would be that couple facing the impossible. But, it is a testament to our relationship that even then, I knew that we COULD. While I am grateful to all the friends and family who have been here for me during this painful time, the one person I know I could not make it without is Mike. He is my rock. I am his home. We cling to and shelter each other during this monsoon. One day, the skies will clear and the seas will calm. But, until then, we hold on.
Didn't they always say we were the lucky ones. I guess that we were once, babe, we were once, but luck will leave you cursed, it is a faithless friend, and in the end, when life has got you down, you've got someone here that you can wrap your arms around.
So hold on to me tight, hold on to me tonight. We are stronger here together, than we could ever be alone. So hold on to me, don't you ever let me go.
There's a thousand ways for things to fall apart, but it's no ones fault, no it's not my fault. Maybe all the plans we made might not work out, but I have no doubt, even though it's hard to see. I've got faith in us, and I believe in you and me.
So hold on to me tight. Hold on, I promise it will be alright. Cuz it's you and me together, and baby all we've got is time. So hold on to me, hold on to me tonight.
There's so many dreams that we have given up. Take a look at all we've got, and with this kind of love, and what we've got here is enough.
So hold on to me tight. Hold on, I promise it will be alright. Cause we are stronger here together, than we could ever be alone. Just hold on to me, don't you ever let me go. Hold on to me, it's gonna be alright. Hold on to me tonight.
