Long Car RIdes

For some unknown reason to me, long car rides bring out this really intense sense of myself. And today I think I am going to be brave. In the spirit of admitting some of the truth and profound things I think about... comes this post.

I came to appreciate during our car ride home last night that my marriage might be the biggest miracle in my life. And I hope it always is. It definitely has flaws. Trust me, we have flaws. Some which we proudly own and some which we ever so defiantly project on each other. But yesterday in the car ride yesterday we learned something about each other that had never occurred to us - well I did anyway.

I believe that surviving someone changes a person. It changed me. No doubt. But until last night it never crossed my mind that lots of things have changed me. I have this kind of ugly tendency to relate everything to Zach's death. Have a conversation with me and I'll say something like "it was the year Zach died" or "it was the winter before he died." It is a simple fact. His death is this big bold black line on my timetable. Like AD and BC - I have Zach's death. There was before and there was after and I seldom think of my life as being connected. Seriously. In my mind, my life before he died was completely different than my life after he died. And while that is true, it really can't be. I am still Jantina. I still react and think like the Jantina I have always been. Losing him changed me, yes, but losing him did not "change" me as much as it deepened my capacity to love and hurt.

The death of my son awoke a deep passion inside of me to reach out. If I hurt this bad on my own... how are other coping? Why are we not talking about it? I write on this blog because I have a deep longing to relate to you. And I haven't figured out how to do it in every day conversations. And to be honest, I am not sure I really want to. I might cry and then what would people think? And nothing is more frustrating that having a conversation and telling someone, well, we have a son who passed away. The look that crosses a strangers face. Ugh. And the awkward conversation that follows as I try to make them feel okay because I lost my son. Yep - blogging is much much safer!

Back to my original admission... my marriage. This past week Matt and I have agreed without so many words that we need to stop ignoring the elephant in our marriage and start talking. We have had some great conversations this week. Conversations that have reminded me that sometimes we truly are our own enemies. We have bravely disucessed our frustrations and fears. We have probably, by God's grace, saved our marriage this week simply by recommitting to it in the first place. By having conversations which are hard to have.

And our conversations are not verbal attackings or long intimate tearfilled sessions. But they are simple truths and insights into our hearts. He can separate his thoughts and feelings to some extent from Zach's death - not completely and this is not to say that he isn't emotional about losing his son too. He does not always relate time around that event. I do. I almost always do. So we tend to step on each other simply because in my mind I have split my life into before Zach died and after Zach died. And depending which BZ or AZ I am in... depends on the offense that I take. Which brings me back to our car ride.

Last night I told Matt in the car that I feel like we need to really commit to courtship. That I need him to not only want but to also take an active role in learning the new me. That sometimes it feels like because we survived the same event that we should automatically be closer but I find the opposite to be true. I find that I more quickly withdraw now. I find myself feeling isolated more. I feel like we have to learn each other in a completely new way.

And as we spoke we spent time talking about statistics and divorces specifically related to losing a child. We were wondering how many people give up the fight out of guilt or blame. Matt is convinced that had he been home and Zach passed away on his watch that I would indefinitely have blamed him. I am convinced of something quite opposite. I think that a mother, by way of default, will always blame herself. We found that one of the biggest burdens we need to be more honest about with each other is the depth at which we BOTH feel responsible for our children's life and death.2
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I know - and this is a subject for another novel - I know the events surrounding Zach's death. I know them better than any person who was there. I know very little could have been done differently. I know it was the fight of our life for us, for the doctors, for him. But at the end of an emotional day, a part of me always feels responsible. I always feel like I failed him. I am his caretaker and he died - I always feel like I let him down. I very seldom blame a doctor, or Matt, or anyone else. I often tuck that guilt into a corner of my heart and pretend like it isn't there. Which is exactly what my enemy wants me to do... another post, promise.

And we kept talking and pondering the things that we were discussing. Now that I think of it I am a little surprised that Halleah has not looked at me and said "Mommy, Zach died." If you know her... she does this matter of fact head tilt and says things like "Roxy, no-no barking." I can close my eyes and see the day coming where she will look at me and tell me "Mommy, Zach died."

But as we were talking I learned something. Zach's death changed us but what we were not talking about is what first changed us. Having a son. Zach, our firstborn, changed the dynamic of our family. Two became three when we gave birth to him. I am not saying that we have been unhappily married. Quite the opposite. I can look back at the past five years of my life and know that undoubtedly I would not be who I am or have survived this journey without him. Together we have tackled births, deaths, temper tantrums, rental houses, dogs... well, the jury is out on the dogs yet.

I learned in our car ride last night that the reason I feel disconnected is because I am doing that to myself. I am only looking at the smaller picture and completely ignoring the bigger picture. I am a different person now than I was five years ago. But who isn't? Yes, Zach's death changed me. It changed us. It changed people who know us. But it also changed nothing. I still believe in my marriage. I still love my husband. I still have good days and bad days. I still get offended. I still offend.

I learned that it is time for me. It is time for me to let my guard down. It is time for me to start trusting others again. I think in the past three years I have reacted out of defense to every thing that has happened or not happened. I need to stop blaming Zach's death for changing my life and be honest about the changes that have happened in my life. His life changed us before his death did. My marriage changed me before my son did.

And we ended our conversations last night reflecting on how we would give almost anything to go back to that place of ignorance. That place where we could undoubtedly believe that things always work out for the best. And then we decided, maybe not. Maybe this place isn't so bad. This place where we proceed with caution and take things a little to serious. Maybe instead of pretending like we are't those people, maybe we need to do that for each other more often...

And I learned that we still know each other. We have a desire for more children. We have a desire to show our children the world. We both want the best for each other no matter what that is. He wants to see me succeed as much as I want to see him succeed. In that long car ride, I learned that everything and absolutely nothing has changed...

Matt - I hope you know how much I love you and how much our conversations have meant to me this week. Love you much!