The Road to Healing

May the Lord bless you and keep you;

may His face shine upon you and be gracious to you;

may He give you peace.

- Numbers 6:24-26



In mid-June, Max and I started looking for an opportunity to get away for a little while and take a "healing trip." We narrowed our search to the Pacific Northwest and all the stars aligned for Vancouver. With August holding the highest temperatures at home, we decided that would be a good time to escape the heat and get away before work got too busy.

Leading up to the trip, I was having a lot of inner-struggle. It started around my birthday in the beginning of August. I love to throw parties and have something to plan so every year I have done some kind of fun theme-based birthday. After last year's 30th celebration and learning I was pregnant a few months later, I swore off my own birthday parties and decided that effort would now go toward my littles from here on out. For my 31st birthday, I anticipated having a newborn and enjoying a quiet night at home with my little family and a glass of red wine. Well, life changed on us. About a week before I turned 31, I was sad. Really sad. We had just gotten through the milestone of his due date and the anger phase had hit, and it hit hard. I resented anyone who was pregnant or had a baby. That makes me a real peach, huh? I was sad, I was angry, I wanted distraction. I filled sad time with planning time and created a last minute celebration with a few friends. My husband planned a spa day for us and we had plans for the entire weekend to help distract. Throughout the whole weekend, I tried to enjoy it and live in the moment, but in the back of my mind, I had the constant thought of: I shouldn't be doing this right now. I should have a newborn. I shouldn't enjoy myself because I wouldn't be doing this if we hadn't lost Hudson. 

Fast forward two weeks. It's trip time. I love to travel with Max and explore new places with him. I was excited for the trip but also melancholy, knowing there was a reason we were going and that reason was because we don't have our son with us. The morning of, I was happy. I was excited. We got the airport and were waiting in the security line when the cries of an infant started bellowing. I look behind me and see a mother, trying to coddle and soothe her teeny tiny baby. She was talking to him out loud, telling him she's sorry, she knows he's hungry, it won't be long. Then I overhear her talking to the TSA agent about how she is there to pick up her other two kids flying in. She drove from Ft. Hood that morning to get them and meet them at the gate. The baby is crying louder and she starts to breastfeed him in line. Tears are just rolling down my face, I'm biting my lip as hard as I can to try to keep from crying. Max squeezes my hand and gets me through so I can be as far removed as possible.

I sat on the plane and stared out the window. In my head, I talked to him. I told him how much we love him and miss him. How we are trying to get through this life and if he could just give us a little sign, something to know that he's watching over us, I could really use that right now. I kept looking out the window for something. A cloud formation, a ray of light, a rainbow. Anything. I closed my window for a little bit to read. I opened the window again a little while later to see the Grand Tetons coming up out of the clouds and then Mount Rainer followed. In my mind, the song ain't no mountain high enough, nothing can keep me, keep me from you.

 

We landed and as we navigated through the line in customs, there are pregnant women and babies EVERYWHERE. Didn't matter what direction I looked in, there they were, staring me in the face for 35 minutes as we snaked through the line. A reminder that we didn't have our baby and I wasn't pregnant, tears streaming down my face again.

We got to our hotel around 1:30 pm and started to explore the city shortly thereafter. As we walked around, we were in an area of town that had souvenir shops and decided to look for some sussies so we went in shop after shop, looking for our traditional trip Christmas ornament and a t-shirt. After four stores, I thought we may need to go to a different area, these all have the same things and not what we are looking for. But then I looked up and saw a sign for Hudson House Trading Company. Instead of making me sad, it made my heart smile and that was my little boy saying - I'm here mommy, I'm with you. Sure enough, that was the only store with a selection of ornaments and Max found the shirt he wanted.

The next day we went to the top of a mountain. It was covered in a thick fog and you couldn't see any views above or below you. Every now and then, little beams would shine down through the thick fog and it warmed my heart. As if it were another little hello from our angel baby, playing peek-a-boo in the fog. 

Two days later, we went to Victoria. Before experiencing high tea at the famed Empress Hotel, we took this picture and I got goose bumps. Maybe it's just in my head, or the need to look for a sign in everything, but I noticed the rainbow beam of light in the picture that looks like it is shooting out of my belly and up to the left.

 Later, we were enjoying a leisurely afternoon, walking the streets and listening to a great little band playing in a park space. I look up to see a building that read Hudson's Bay. It was a little hug to the heart, like he was saying here I am!

The trip allowed us the opportunity to reflect on our wants and dreams. It was a chance for us to touch base with one another's hearts. This loss has made us realize that we have more love to give than we could have imagined. When I was pregnant with Hudson, I wanted two children, maybe three. During my pregnancy I had a number of people tell me that their biggest regret in life was not having more children. This loss has given both of us the heart to have as many babies as possible. I told Max I want more, he said how about four, or five? We talked about adopting another dog at some point. We discussed future travels and dreams of experiences there. We decided to learn German next year so we can practice with my Grandfather while we still can, then French the year after. Together. One night a week we would make a German or French meal and we are only allowed to speak to each other in that language for the night. We discussed our careers and where we now see ourselves going. It was a check point on our road map of healing.

The whole trip we said "yes" to everything. Any experience we wanted to try, we did it. Any food that maybe looked a little odd, I didn't have any "allergies" to this time. I can't say that I'm necessarily afraid of heights, I'm more afraid of bad things happening and heights can reinforce that. I welcomed them. We did suspension bridges, mountain hikes, seaplanes (that terrified me actually), and rode bikes all over (that's kind of a big deal for me, I haven't touched a non-stationary bike since junior high and let's just say remembering how to turn was lost on me). We walked everywhere, we didn't hurry, we went at our own pace throughout the day. We were carefree, we were the "us" we were a year ago when traveling together through Spain, the "us" that didn't know devastation and pain.

Little Hudson, you have no idea how loved you are and how much of an impact you made on us. We are hurting yet healing and it will continue to take time. We enjoyed this "family trip" with traces of you sprinkled throughout as a reminder that you are always with us.