Budding Confidence

I did something yesterday that I've been desiring to do and also dreading for some time now. I cleaned the closet in Julia's room. In the past eleven months since Julia died, I've only had courage to go in that room a few times. But as we're preparing for another baby to come, my "nesting" instincts kicked in and I really wanted to start to organize.

The hardest part for me was cleaning out the diaper bag. It reminded me how suddenly our lives stopped. There were a couple t-shirts of mine in there and clothes that Julia had worn that week. Diaper wipes that now dried up and a swim diaper that we could've used for her final swim in Grandpa and PoPo's pool.

But there was also something that surprised me as I cleaned: a growing feeling of confidence. It felt so natural for me to shuffle baby clothes and toys around. I did that every month of Julia's life, as she was always growing and changing. As I threw out expired Tylenol and diaper creams, it was like my muscle memory came back and I thought, I know how to do this. I know how to be a mom.

Doctors often tell me to "trust my gut" when it comes to being attentive to the baby's well-being. I hate that phrase. The confidence in my intuition was obliterated when my daughter died with no warning. There's a part of me that says "it's going to be okay" and another part of me that says "nothing will ever be okay" and those parts war with each other often.

I'm trying to help those parts of me be friends again. What has helped the most to grow my confidence is recognizing my vulnerability. Neither my paranoia nor my sense of calm saved, or could save, my daughter. And yet, vigilance and serenity both have wisdom to offer me. When I recognize the beauty of wisdom within myself, while detaching myself from the need to be a savior or to control that which is not in my control, I can start to trust myself again.

It's going to be a long road ahead, but I'm grateful for these glimpses of confidence. It is a sign to me of Jesus's healing.