Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Waking up and walking out of the fog

Three months.
For three months I have walked around in a fog.
I've been tired to the core.
I have gone to bed at the end of the day and though "I don't remember what we did today....at all."
I have felt a deep brokenness that no amount of time can heal.
I have felt an emptiness that no amount of stuff could fill.
I have grieved over the loss of my child harder than any other loss I have ever experienced and I have lost a lot in 24 years.

I felt like winter would never end.
I felt like the sun would never shine again.
I cried for days on end.
I would fall asleep with a wet spot on  my pillow from my tears and wake up wishing the weight in my chest would go away.

I felt like my world was crashing in around me.
I felt like I was suffocating in my own life.
I called it a successful day when we all got out of pjs.
I couldn't even begin to think about trying to keep up with the house.
Most days I simply wanted to stay in bed.

I was confused how people who had lost babies before could be so callous and cliche.
Yet, friends who had never experienced that loss didn't feel the need to say anything and simply embraced me.

I became "that blogger", you know, the ones who write about miscarriages and baby loss.
I wasn't sure what to expect when I hit publish on the post about the life we almost had.
A lot of days I didn't want to keep writing.
I seriously considered walking away from my blog entirely.
But then something happened that I never expected.
I began to get messages from other baby loss moms full of love and support.
And then I received a message from someone who needed to know she wasn't alone.
So because of all of you I kept going.

I will never just "get over" having lost a baby.
A part of my family is missing.
I will never go a single day without thinking of my sweet girl.
I will always wonder what it would be like to have her in the mix.
I will always wonder.

But I realized a few things recently.
I don't have to just get over it and move on with life.
I do have to keep moving forward.

Moving forward doesn't mean moving on 
and it certainly doesn't mean forgetting.

I will carry my girl with me everywhere, every single day, for the rest of my life.
I will never forget her.

But something happened recently.
I feel like I woke up.
The sun was shining.
The fog was gone.
It doesn't hurt quite as much.
I don't feel quite as raw and broken.
I'm still grieving. I still hurt.
But I don't feel like I'm suffocating.

Time hasn't healed my broken heart, God has.
Stuff hasn't filled the emptiness I've felt deep inside, Jesus has.

I'm not saying that this has been easy or that all of a sudden I feel normal again.
I know I will have days that are really difficult.
I have several friends who are all due when I should have been.
It will be very bittersweet to hold their babies.
I don't know what the future holds for me or my family
but I feel like I'm beginning to live again.

The sun is shining.
Winter has ended.
Spring is here and summer is coming.

Monday, June 2, 2014

The question without answers.

It's amazing how much changes in the course of four years.
Four years ago today I was 10 days overdue with my first child.
I went through the disappointment of false labor and then a failed induction.
I came home the second time after having been on pitocin for 8 hours and decided to go help out at a youth event at our church because I didn't want to do nothing while waiting.
At the time eating a spicy chicken wing sub and playing 4 square with a bunch of teens sounded like a lot more fun.

Four years ago today I was unable to sleep because I knew the next day I was going in for my second induction and he would be born within 24 hours after the start of the induction.
I would finally be holding my sweet little boy.

He's grown into such a sweet, caring, loving, and affectionate boy.
He is so intuitive and observant.
He's quick to run and check on other's if he thinks they could be hurt.
He's one to sit and snuggle while watching a movie.
He loves to make you laugh and hugs and kisses are always on tap.

The day our world changed he never left my side.
I didn't know what to tell him about what was going on so I simply told him mommy didn't feel good and that I had to rest a lot.
I spent the day laying on the couch and he spent the day snuggled up close to me.
He was quick to get up and help his younger brother just so I didn't have to get up.
I'll never forget the way he told me "Momma, I'll feed brother dinner tonight so you can go lay back down."

When I finally began to start physically feeling better he would ask me often if I was ok.
He would ask me if I needed to lay down.
And he began asking me how my heart felt.
He knew I was sad deep inside but that I wasn't sick anymore.

Then about a month ago he started talking about what he wants for his life.
He told me that he wants to get married and be a daddy.
And then he started talking about "his little girl."
He started telling me things that he wants to do with her and things she'll like.

But then he surprised me one day by saying that I should have a little girl.

The first time he said something about me having a baby I just quickly changed the subject.
I just couldn't even imagine another baby. I didn't wan to replace the one we lost.
He has continued to bring up having a little sister and the way he would protect her and teach her cool things.

Ever since losing our daughter I have wrestled with how to talk to my oldest son about it.
Tomorrow is his fourth birthday but today he grew up.

We sat together in our favorite chair to read a couple of books when he asked me the question.

him: "Mommy? Is there a baby in your tummy?"
I looked over at him to see his eyes looking at my stomach with eyes that pleaded for a yes. Before I could answer he reached down and touched my stomach as if hoping to feel something.
me: "No buddy, there is not a baby in my tummy."
His eyes looked confused, still looking at my stomach, and he pulled his hand away.
him: "Oh. I thought there was."
How do I answer this? How do I talk to him about his baby sitter that he'll never meet or hold this side of heaven? 
me: "There was a baby in there, but not anymore sweetie."
him: "I know mommy. There were two babies in there. First there was me and then there was brother. But I thought maybe there was a baby in your tummy now."
He looked at me with a sad smile. I could tell he was confused. Unsure how to ask the question. I looked back at him wanting to answer his questions only I realized these were questions without answers.
me: "Why did you ask if there was a baby in my tummy?"
him: "I just thought there was so I just wanted to know."
He then climbed off my lap and left the room.

I watched him as he walked away.
His physical demeanor different than when the conversation had started.
His heart was sad and he didn't know why.

The rest of the night has been spent with him close to my side.
He asked me how my heart was feeling. I told him my heart was sad.
He told me his heart is sad too. He asked me if I missed daddy because he misses him too.
Extra hugs and kisses.
Bedtime was a little bit later.

My son turns four tomorrow but he grew up a little bit more today.