Yesterday, I went back to the pool. I went swimming, for the first time since the baby died (for more insight: The girl who stopped swimming). My mom came up and I used one of the guest passes I was given so I could have her come along. That might sound silly, that a 31-year-old woman needed her mom to restart this routine, but I needed help. I couldn’t do it on my own. Just having another person there made it less nerve-wracking. We used the indoor pool instead of the outdoor — I schemed it that way, thinking that because it was summer most families would be outside, and I was right! So it wasn’t very crowded, which meant I was less tense, and I got to swim and enjoy doing it.
One small step, right?
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And the wisdom to know the difference.
That’s the Serenity Prayer. It’s likely you’ve heard it somewhere, even if just on television. If you’re a part of an addiction anonymous group or you know someone who is, you’re probably very aware of it. I’m not sure when I first heard it, but when my mother finally embraced AA as a support she needed to get sober, I became very familiar.
I like the prayer; I can see how it is affirming, and reaffirming, and sometimes a desperate cry to the universe. And lately, I’ve been thinking about how applicable it can be towards anything in life. I feel like I can use it now. I’m really reaching to get some peace somehow. This prayer — it’s a plea. At least for me. A shout into the dark to please please send some peace, some serenity, my way.
Because I accept (most of the time) that I can’t change the loss of my baby. That won’t ever go away. I can try to be brave again, to have courage and take the chance to dare to change the future. The last part stills me though; because sometimes I feel like these things are intertwined, and it can be really difficult to find the wisdom to tell the difference.