Aftershock by Heather Ledeboer

By Heather Ledeboer | Category: Pursuing God, Sawyer's Story, The Journey of Motherhood

As many of you know, we live in a very small town with a population tipping the scales somewhere in the upper 700’s.  Oddly enough, we also have a theme park about 10 minutes away–the biggest in the Northwest.  Moving from Southern California, we were pretty excited to have something "Disneylandish" near us (the kids were excited about that too;).  This summer we have visited on numerous occasions.  One of these visits was just two days before we received the news that Sawyer had died.  It was a hot, sunny Saturday and as we walked from ride to ride I repeatedly had to explain to Hunter why I was not able to go on the rides with him.  We treated ourself to an ice cream cone. Hunter was served a time-out (his particular crime now excapes me) and cried because he had to wait to take his next bite of Huckleberry Delight.  It was also on this day that I began to notice that I hadn’t felt much (if any) movement from my baby.

You might wonder why, if I wasn’t feeling movement, I didn’t go to have it checked out right away.  I now wonder this too but as I have mentioned in a previous post, I am optimistic by nature and figured Sawyer was just getting cramped in his little space at the end of my pregnancy with less room to move.  He had also been less active in general from our first two children and, finally, I thought perhaps he had just shifted with his limbs facing toward my spine where perhaps I wouldn’t feel as much kicking.  I WAS having contractions here and there and this "movement" also threw off my radar.  Anyway. . . returning to this theme park always brings back some memories for me. . .

During our most recent visit (Tuesday) we planned to ride the new roller coaster that just opened.  It is named Aftershock.  As the website explains, "This 191 foot tall beast is really two thrills in one, because not only does it take you forwards through a cobra roll and inverted loop at over 65 mph, but backwards as well!  Once you board, the cars will slowly move backwards up the starting tower until you’re staring straight at the ground at nearly 190 feet in the air. Then gravity will take over and pull you 177 feet straight down as you reach speeds of 65 miles per hour! You’ll twist and turn though mind-blowing loops and rolls until you reach the second tower. This time, you’ll be looking at the sky as the coaster pulls you upward at a 90 degree angle, only to release and send you barreling through the whole thing backwards!"  To view a video of it, click here.

 

Trent and I stood in line for this massive metal beast for at least 30-40 min (our kids were in another part of the park with friends–we were going to take turns and later let them ride it while we watched their kids).  We had finally made it far enough through the line to be in the "official" winding-line-waiting area when we were informed that the ride had been temporally shut down for maintenance.  Some of the safety bars were stuck (in the down position) and they were going to work on fixing it and it was up to us if we were going to wait.  Sadly looking behind us at all the progress we had made moving up in the line, we bowed out and walked away, only to see the coaster start back up again not 5 minutes later . . .

As you may have noticed, I have not posted much in the way of "personal" thoughts lately.  Simply put, I have had very little to say or at least, no proper words to help me articulate.  As I once told a friend, writing is for me, therapeutic.  However, in many ways it is also my tribute to the story of my son Sawyer and the story that is being woven by God through my pain.  I don’t feel content to simply draft a blog post stating how I am feeling.  Instead I want to wait until I am inspired to expand on those feelings in a way that is slightly more poignant in order to feel I am giving due justice to the situation at hand.  Thinking back over this roller coaster experience and how I have been feeling lately has, I believe, allowed me to perhaps find a way to illustrate "how I am doing" as of late.

When I wake up in the morning I generally arise with optimism and hope for a good day.  I am "in line".  It amazes how often the movement of the line is halted.

-Someone asks my son if he has any brothers or sisters (halt)
-Someone emails me remembering that I was due in May and unknowingly offers their congratulations (halt)
-Someone sees me at the store and asks how my baby is (halt)

Some days the line simply never seems to move. 

Other days, progress is made and I am actually able to reach the front of the line and sit down to enjoy a ride.  What a great day: enjoyable moments with my family, beautiful scenery, lovely friendships, fun connections though work. . . even the thoughts of Sawyer are more pleasant than painful and welcomed to mingle among the other pleasantries of the day.  For those of you who watched the video through the link above, this is the first half of the ride.

Then there are the days where all seems to be crusing along at a pleasant pace when, suddenly, everything is thrown into reverse–the second half of the ride.

-I see a photo of a baby born days away from my due date and can’t believe how big Sawyer would be if he were alive when my memory of him is only that of a small 4 lb. newborn.
-I watch Hunter and Ashlyn lovingly interact with a older baby and think about the brother they can’t enjoy.
-I see Ashlyn grow frustratingly angry at a younger child taking her toy and think that she was supposed to learn additional lessons about sharing with Sawyer.
-I talk to a friend nearing the end of her pregnancy and feel jealous that she will soon hold a living baby while I hold a memory, sad that we won’t be able to share "baby stories" and frustrated that my joy for her is clouded by my mixed emotions of extreme pain.

It is this part of the ride that I hate the most.  It throws me backward, reeling, turning, twisting and recounting.  I get swept up in the unexpected suddenness of the reverse motion and can’t see where I am going. 

Unlike "Aftershock", my ride stops at different places each time allowing me to exit. 

-Sometimes it is in a teary prayer.
-Sometimes it is in an encouraging email.
-Sometimes it is a good night sleep.
-Sometimes it is a phone call with a friend.
-Sometimes it is in a Bible passage.

And unlike a theme park, I don’t return home at the end of the day.  I simply exit my seat, circle around and find my place back at the end of the line, awaiting my next ride.  Ultimately this is the most difficult part for me.  It is the moment where I remember that for the first time in my life I am living through something that (in this lifetime) does not fall under the "this too shall pass" category.

"For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. . . A time to cry and a time to laugh.  A time to grieve and a time to dance."  Ecclesiastes 3:1 and 4

Posted Thursday, July 31, 2008