Pretend Happiness

I've read similar thoughts all over the internet.

Act like you're happy and it will happen.
Fake it until you make it.

That's exactly what we're trying over here at the Wilson residence. While it's a hair easier than it was December 5, 6, 7, 8th... it's still the pits. It's still the pits that we're sad and will always be jaded by something that is supposed to be so natural and beautiful. We both admit that although we're smiling at others, laughing, and engaging like somewhat normal beings post tragedy, we're still broken inside. Our glasses are half empty. Some days I feel like they're pretty close to empty actually.

This isn't something a simple bandaid can fix or even another child can mend. We lost some of ourselves, our identities and what we perceived life to be about {joy, love, experience} on that very cold December day.

We lost the innocence that new parents have.
We lost the pureness of what would have been.
We lost the freshness of morning {as we'll always have a small dark cloud in our sky}.
We lost the beauty of childbirth {now riddled with guilt, concern, and trepidation}
We lost the newness {we've already experienced our first childbirth and it was tragic, disturbing, devastating}.
We lost our firstborn son.

But still we carry on. Smiling as though we aren't cautiously walking with one foot in front of the other, nervous of the hole we might fall in if we aren't careful. Laughing as though we're carefree. Carrying forward because there is simply no other option.

I'm smiling for a few reasons:

• I'm tired of others looking at me with those grief eyes. I hate them (the eyes, not the people).
• I know that if I do, my outlook will change, at least for brief moments.
• I'll attract happiness. Those who frown, complain, become frustrated tend to attract that behavior in others. I don't need another reason to frown and I don't need help feeling sad.
• The psychological fakeout. I believe I read somewhere about how smiling signals your brain to be happy. Fake or not, it's worth a shot.

We understand just as I posted here that though we have been dealt something unbearable, we must make the decision of how to handle the circumstances. Only the strong will survive and the meek will fail. For all that is whole and sane, and in honor of Andrew, we are pretending happiness.

Why isn't "pretending" quite like what it was as a child? Playing "house" or "school" seemed without hurt or suffering. No one died when you pretended to be a mom. Babies didn't die before they were born or die before reaching adulthood. Shoot. While playing house, no one ever died.

Though we're able to find some goodness in life, I'm not sure I totally believe my once favorite clothing line motto, "Life is Good"-- because sometimes it's just not. Perhaps I can scratch out my hat and pieces of clothing into "Life is Sometimes Good" instead of wearing a lie. And to be honest, my days have been better, but I don't know about good. As good as I'd be if my son were here, impossible. They will never be 100% good again. I'm hoping to increase the percentages as we carry forward, but it's been really tough to hit a passing score. Sometimes we just have to pretend.

And spoken from our favorite elephant from Horton Hears a Who, "A person's a person, no matter how small." {taken from a fellow BLM blog}

That little person I think of everyday and fake it just to make it is our little Andrew. No matter how small or how long he lived, he still holds a special place in our hearts.