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.


  1. It seems like that's how it works--one day we're in the fog and the next day, we realize it's lifted, or it's starting to lift, but somehow we're different and we know everything's going to be OK. No more complete despair. God is good to bring healing in the pain, and I'm so glad He has done just that in your heart.