Tuesday, November 3, 2009

this way

I think I am depressed.
I have zero motivation.
I am as BIG as a house.
Sleep is all I seem to do well...
and that is only with the help of my friend, Ambien.

I work. I come home. I laugh. I eat.
I sleep. I tell Mattie, 'I love you.' (repeat)

I'm not suicidal or anything -- I am just really ambivalent.
Just stuck...in this mood...this gray, fog-like feeling.
Easily upset. Crying even.

I'm reading, I'm writing, I'm praying... What...

Life is full of ups and downs, right?
My hope is in Him, right?
My husband loves me no matter what, right?
It's not my fault, right?

So, why do I feel so burdened by the death of our baby?
Why do I feel so singularly responsible?
Why does it continue to ache so badly?
Why do other people's babies make me cringe?

"Why me" is what my heart screams. My head quickly tries to answer.
But seriously... why me?!

**Also, people who are pregnant should stop complaining about things that would make my heart leap to be troubled by... I mean really, maternity clothes are adorable and so are big bellies swollen with the promise of new life... Be thankful... ugh.

From "The Shack" - seriously...have you read this book...Ah-mah-zing!!

This is EXACTLY what I feel...EXACTLY!!

"The Great Sadness had draped itself around Mack's shoulders like some invisible but almost tangibly heavy quilt. The weight of its presence dulled his eyes and stooped his shoulders. Even his efforts to shake it off were exhausting, as if his arms were sewn into its bleak folds of despair and he had somehow become part of it. He ate, worked, loved, dreamed and played in this garment of heaviness, weighed down as if he were wearing a leaden bathrobe -- trudging daily through the murky despondence that sucked the color out of everything. At times he could feel The Great Sadness slowly tightening around his chest and heart like the crushing coils of a constrictor, squeezing liquid from his eyes until he thought there no longer remained a reservoir."

1 comment:

Christy said...

I know how you are going to feel when you read this statement, because I was where you are. You are normal, and grieving like any other human would. And you are not alone. I remember feeling like my body was a betrayer. I hated myself, and hated my body. After my first miscarriage, I was angry. I was so angry with myself and angry with God. You don't know how badly it hurts to type that out, today. I know God is not and has never been out to spite me. I am ashamed for ever thinking as such. I knew it then, too. I just needed to blame someone. I needed to not feel like such a failure.

I remember blogging about my hurt and anger. Posts that I still can't bring myself to read today. Like you, I felt quite broken each time a friend or relative announced pregnancy. And after our last loss, it seemed like the whole nation of women were getting pregnant! Time heals. Typing that out is huge for me. This statement made me angry before. I hated for people to tell me this, because I had convinced myself to never heal. I was afraid that by doing so, my lost ones would become nothing more than a memory. I wanted them to feel more tangible than that, since I never had anything to hold. I needed something to make up for that. I wanted my love to be existent, and to be felt all the way to Heaven. I learned that I was wrong about healing. Time has healed. Not completely, but a great deal. I accept that I will never be healed, and that is okay. I have a mama's heart that aches for what could have been. But I was blessed! I was so completely blessed to carry my babies for the time that I carried them. I was blessed to hear heartbeats. I was blessed to be chosen to be their mother.

Use this experience to continue to grow in your relationship with Christ. Keep loving your precious Rowan. Learn how to love yourself again. Use this to minister to others. God makes everything new. You are a new person. Forever changed by one tiny baby, and the love of our Father.

Praying fervently for you.