Tuesday, August 31, 2010

these quiet moments

My house is quiet.  Too quiet.  There is no crying babe, no chatty toddler, no...sound...at all...

My heart feels heavy and full of an emptiness that only a mother who has buried a child can understand.  My belly is empty from the loss of my sons, and feels cavernous tonight. 

I feel sad.  I miss my baby.  9 weeks ago I held his tiny body and begged God to let me keep him.  My soul aches with missing my children...  a deep ache, a belly ache.  I want to scream, to cry...to run...and not stop.  This quietness teases me, and cloaks me in itself. 

I try to fill up my days with phone calls, internet activities, meeting up with friends....to avoid the quiet that comes when I am alone.  I'm thankful that we decided to have Levi at the hospital rather than at home, as we had planned.  I think it would have made it unbearable to be here at all. 

I can hear Matt breathing deeply now.  I am not alone.  He too is feeling the sadness only a father who held his sons for only moments can know.  A father who has two dead boys...two tiny graves with the our last name on them...two....gone.

2 comments:

Alex said...

Aw Amanda. I'm sending you hugs and prayers. My heart aches right now for you.

christi @ grey umbrella said...

just found your blog. praying for you. words don't express my sorrow and yet your strength is apparent.