cover photo

Nope, not ready yet

I was supposed to get a tattoo tomorrow. Some of my sisters want to get one, and so we scheduled it so we could all get them together. I don’t currently have one, and I never thought I would get one, as “I don’t like anything that much that I might not like it in the future.” But you know what I will never not like? My family. My husband, my three sons, though only one is with us.

After I miscarried in March, I was a wreck. For weeks, all I could do is cry. One night, staying up late, I found some inspiration in some tattoos. There were two especially that I liked, and I knew that my sister K could draw it for me.

I sent her facebook messages all night as I refined my thoughts, as she blissfully dreamed.

Here was the first I felt drawn to:
flowing image

I loved the flowing lines, and especially the top left and bottom middle. Just simple lines, not especially detailed, but I felt drawn to it. That was going to represent Boobock and I. I also asked her to add DH to that as well.

I then found this one:
heart - foot

I mean, that exact one is kind of crude, but I liked the foot on the heart. I liked the idea, but wanted the style to be like the top one. I would want two of these, one for each baby I lost. And to definitely show that there were two of them, both of the hearts needed to be right feet.

Then, we needed to think of if I have another baby, another like the top, or if I miscarry again, another like the bottom. That would be hard, though. A design that would look good as is, or adding one or the other.

And…no angel wings. People don’t become angels when they die. They hopefully become saints, but never angels. Angels are separate beings created by God, not dead people.

I thought of adding a phrase to this as well. It turned out that the image was so powerful that it didn’t need a phrase, but I still love what we came up with:
May God hold you in His arms until we gather as family.

I sent her all this late into the night, and then she started drawing. She sent me different pictures on her phone, and eventually came up with exactly what I wanted:
cover photo

I love it. I look at that and see DH and I holding Boobock in our arms. We are surrounded by love. Our two sons we never met are forever a part of our family, though we never got to hold them. We have room for more, if God so chooses to bless us (and if my body can get with the program), but we know that even if we can get pregnant, there are no guarantees. In our arms or surrounded by them, I am still their mom. And we are still family.

And when the final picture came through from my sister, I felt peace. Designing this and dealing with all the symbolism really and truly helped me cope with our latest tragedy. After she cleaned up the lines a bit and framed it, she gave it to me. Looking at it has calmed me over the past 6 months when I needed it most.

And so, tomorrow is the day. My sister A asked me if I was going, and I said yes and asked her for a bit more information, as to where and what time. As I was driving home, I started thinking about the picture and how I was going to explain to the tattoo artist exactly what everything meant, the symbolism that was so perfectly rendered by K, and I got a heavy feeling in my chest. A nagging feeling about…something. I tried to shrug it off, but over the years, I have made big mistakes when I ignore that feeling, so I decided to explore it. The feeling I had was “are you sure you are done?”

No! No, I don’t want to be done! I need to continue to feel hope that we can have another child. I am not ready to give up. I am not ready. I got this overwhelming feeling that if I tattoo that permanently on my body, that we are done. Even though we designed it to allow additions. Even though ink in your skin does not mean anything other than you had someone inject ink into your skin. No. I can’t let those fatalistic thoughts creep into my head.

And as my eyes started brimming with tears, I had to call someone. And so, I called my sister J, who had put this whole tattoo party together. I felt so badly. She is only 18. She doesn’t need to get unloaded on by her 36 year old sister about things she hopefully will not ever have to contemplate. I started telling her how I was feeling, and how I was so sorry for her going through all the trouble to get us all appointments and all, and I was backing out. I really started crying then. I mean bawling. About the symbolism of it all and trying to explain what I was feeling, and oh, I just felt awful.

But after making the decision, I felt peace. Peace that not getting it now is the right decision. That there may be time still and to not lose hope. And I still have the picture, framed and signed and made with love, and that is good enough for now.

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