10/14/10

Forgive me, Meghan Hoyos Scoresby.

Meghan Hoyos just posted this under a "Comment" section. I'm taking creative license and moving it into a post of its own because it's good writing, interesting, heartbreaking, and honest.

I'm really grateful for what you have all said. Shannon, I read "A Lantern in Her Hand" when I was young (like 6th grade), and I loved it. I don't remember anything about it except that it was about a good mother, and that's all I ever wanted to be. Sounds pretty ridiculous that that's what I wanted in middle school, doesn't it? I know you are going through a tough transition right now, and you are one of those women Jami talked about. You'll find a way to make life brighter and more interesting than ever before. It will take time, I guess. I'm learning that everyone has challenges that all sort of even out eventually.

Sister Morgan, thanks for sharing your thoughts on patience. It seems Heavenly Father knows just what we think we can't live without, and he lets us learn patience by having us live without it anyway. I really had to force myself to say "lets" instead of "makes." Really he's making us though. It's not in my control to be a mom or not to be. It's all in His. I don't understand Him. I trust Him more than ever after all this, but it's partly out of desperation. If I don't trust him, I'm giving up. And I won't ever give up. Sometimes I feel so stupid. Why do I have to care so much about being a mom. Could I have hidden it and pretended to be completely fascinated by painting or something that wouldn't ache so much when it was taken away? Obviously you can't hide that from Heavenly Father. Sometimes I wish I could have. I know He knows what is best and when the time is right. I know he knows what we need to learn and how. This is the first time I've ever asked "why me" in my life. (I used to pride myself on never doing that. Ha.) I guess everyone has to do that sometime, just to learn to accept tough stuff. Some weeks it's easy and I am as trusting as a baby. Some weeks, like this one, it's harder. I had a dream the other night. I haven't told anyone about this but Jason, who I really couldn't help but tell since he wouldn't accept my sobbing "nothing" for an answer--even at 4:30 in the morning. You'd think he'd be glad to go back to sleep. I had my baby girl in my dream; it was wonderful. It wasn't even a great baby dream, but the problem was it was a dream. I woke up. I tried to go back to sleep, but I felt so empty handed. I don't know where my babies are. That's what I sobbed to Jason. It sounds funny, maybe. It's not. Where are these children I'm supposed to watch over? Why am I empty?


That's it. My fingers stopped moving, so I guess I'm done. I just had to type it all out. I read what you said again, Sister Morgan. Thanks.

Jami, if you got this far, I really wanted to tell you how happy I am that you are feeling better about being a mom. You have great insights about not letting yourself disappear, which must be harder than it looks. I'm sitting in my dark apartment (sun went down while I read), and I feel as if it's just us four in a room and I just spilled my guts. Thanks for listening.

6 comments:

meghan & jason said...

Hmm. If I were gonna post it on here, I would have cleaned it up.

Shani said...

I love you, Meghan. Thanks for sharing.

meghan & jason said...

Thanks for never failing to comment on my infrequent (and inadvertent) posts. It means a lot to me.

Shani said...

Likewise. :-)

Jami said...

I liked our four person talk on Sister Morgan's moonlit bed.

I'm glad you didn't "clean it up," Meghan, because it is honest, raw, and real. Thanks for sharing. Ha, I guess Sister Morgan had a hand in that one ;)

Sky said...

Ditto to Jami. the line "I don't know where my babies are" is wrenchingly honest and real. Dear dear Meghan, we crave honesty with a passion. Thank you.