Saturday, July 17, 2010

a gloomy day

Dark, gray clouds hang overhead and the thunder roars. It claps and startles me as the lightning strikes. The day is gloomy. Yes, I'm thankful for the rain. I'm thankful that the earth is being rejuvenated and the beautiful greens are returning once again. The grass is no longer stiff and brown, but luscious and lovely. I do enjoy sleeping through thunderstorms and hearing the rain pound on the roof and outside my windows. But, the storm seems to represent something more than that these days. The gloominess of the day is reflecting the gloominess in my heart. I'm hurting. Because I miss Lily. But, it's more than that today. I'm hurting for so many hurting people. For the mom who just lost her third baby. I try not to let myself think of her pain too much because I don't want to get so sad, when I'm just trying to get by. 
But, today, for a few minutes, I think the Lord allowed me to feel the pain she's in. My heart was aching, heavy, and broken. Tears streamed down my face. I don't understand it. And I have no words to try to explain why this happened. My heart aches for the mom who lost her baby last year, and now lost her brother this week. Why? Death is such a sad, unforgiving, continual, final thing. It can never be changed. Her brother can never go back to before the car accident..and maybe leave the house a few moments earlier to avoid what happened altogether. I can never go back to before my baby was born and replay the events that led up to her death. I will forever wonder if there's something I could have done?...something different my doctor could have done? Something I should have known...
And sometimes I get these crazy thoughts like I want to say to whatever woman I see with a healthy baby, "You have no idea how blessed you are! You better not take it for granted!" And for some reason, whenever I see a woman with a baby or young child, I get bitter and resentful and automatically assume the mother doesn't fully appreciate her child. I know it's ridiculous and of course I would never really say anything so crazy, but that's what I think. And then today I thought while looking around at so many moms and babies, maybe that woman lost her baby years ago and that's her rainbow baby. Maybe she takes every moment with that child as a sacred gift. 


And when I see pregnant women, I just want to say, "Don't take any moment for granted! You never know how this is going to end!" And that sounds so mean, but it's almost like I want to prepare them for heartbreak. But, I would never tell them something that would scare them out of their blissful pregnancy. And maybe it's not only because I want to save them from being shocked at the hospital when they go home with empty arms...Just because I say something wouldn't change anything anyways. It would just make them afraid. And I don't want that. But, maybe I just want them to know that I don't have my baby! Maybe I want them to feel sorry for me. Maybe I want them to know how much it hurts. But, I would never wish that on someone. So, tell me why do I think all these crazy things?! 


And then I wondered, while watching pregnant woman after pregnant woman pass me by...how many women that lost their babies looked at me and thought the same thing when I was pregnant? How many women were envious of the life that grew inside me? How many women wanted to tell me not to be surprised if when it was all said and done, I ended up with nothing but a saggy stomach. How many women saw the blissful smile on my face and had to hold back the tears? And this brings to mind a story that one of the ladies in my infant loss support group told me about. She was sitting outside at a restaurant as a pregnant woman was with a group of people, just laughing and having fun. And they were taking photos and had no idea who was behind them. A woman whose world just shattered on a day in mid-January when her twin sons were taken from her. They had no idea that maybe they shouldn't be so blissfully unaware. And she mentioned that when they got those photos back, there she'll be...in the background, crying and broken. And they'll have no idea why. They'll have no idea just how much she was hurting. And they'll have no idea that she was hurting because she saw them taking pictures.
So, today I'm hurting. I'm sorry for your pain. Know that I'm feeling it along with you and if there's anything I can do to help carry your burden, I humbly ask you to tell me. For now, I will ask the Lord to give me some of your pain, to lighten your load, to shed some of the tears on your heavy heart...


"Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." ~Galatians 6:2


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This post left me:

5 comments:

  1. i can so relate to all of this:

    -needing others to know what i have lost
    -wanting to warn other pregnant women of what might happen
    -wondering and doubting whether i could have done anything differently that would have saved my son
    -wondering what kind of grief other people are carrying around now that i carry such a burden myself

    thinking of you and lily....

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  2. I'm hurting with you today, and not just for me but all of us on this journey. Sending you hugs and lifting you up.

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  3. It just occurred to me for the first time that even if we COULD and DID tell those women who are blissfully naive that it might not end well, not ONE of them will believe that it really COULD happen to them. They will just cast off that fear thinking, "not to ME though..."

    I remember going out to dinner with a group of friends when I was about 5 or 6 months pregnant. My friends brought a woman along who I didn't know, but heard had suffered a full term stillborn baby. Being blissfully naive, I thought "that won't happen to me... I mean it COULD I guess, but you know, it won't... especially since like.. I just MET her. I mean, how common can stillbirths be? I probably just knocked my odds down just by MEETING someone who had it happen to them..."

    I cannot imagine NOW how that poor woman must have felt having me at dinner with her, her loss probably so fresh too. And there I was, bubbly and glowing and bragging and swooning over my soon to be new bundle of joy. :\ I NEVER thought it would be me next.

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  4. I think we would all like to be back in the place where we can be carefree and happy about pregnancy and know nothing of loss. We really don't know where people have been and that's one of the reasons why I was able to move past the hurt of seeing pregnancies and babies. Perhaps they had been in my shoes not long ago.

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  5. My dear sweet, sweet pea. I know it is hard for you when you see babies and mothers. I've seen it in your face. May God give you comfort for always. Trust in Him, as I know you are so desperately trying to do. We are unable to understand His will, but we must MUST find the faith to do so, as we are both learning. I am so proud of you as you've relied on God in your most difficult time. It will not go unseen.

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