I have helped plan & been to 5 baby showers since last Wednesday. Five.
Of course, four of those were at one time! :)
I really, really, really want to have another baby. We have been trying since Noah was about 18 months old (he will be 3 in July) ..but I haven't been back on fertility meds, etc.... I just really, really, really wanted it to happen naturally.
It feels like a metal baseball bat to the stomach every month that I'm not pregnant, every time someone else tell me they ARE pregnant...and every time I stop to realize that my body just can't/won't/doesn't do what it's meant to do... Why do you think that is?
And, while we are on the topic - why do people find it necessary to say things like "isn't it time you had another?" "you're not getting any younger." "noah needs a play mate, don't you want another baby?" What --- you don't know me --- this is what I really want to scream...but I politely smile & nod.
And, in the last week I meet a woman who told me that she went the entire pregnancy not knowing she was preggo...went to ER with stomach cramping & back pain -- left with a baby. Oy vey!!
**My friends who are pregnant - I love you & this is nothing against you or your "condition" heehee -- I am just stuck in my feelings today & wanted to share a
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
holding on to let go
Tomorrow I will bury my son.
My son Levi was born on Monday, June 28, 2010. His little heart beat strong for a long time after he came to us. I watched him draw in 3 or 4 small gasps of air, and I felt his tiny hand reach out for mine. It hurt to give birth. Though he was small, the pressure and pain was immense. I asked for no medications as I longed to have a physical feeling of my time with Levi. I started having mild contractions around noon on Monday, and just before midnight (11:46 to be exact) we met our son.
He is beautiful. Everything about him is just perfect. He is a tiny replica of his daddy. Absolutely the most adorable baby I've ever seen.
Tomorrow I will bury my son. His tiny body will lie next to his big brother Rowan, at the cemetery not too far from our home. It is no small thing to have buried my two boys in less than a year's time. Only 10 short months separate their beginning and ending.
I lay down, but rest eludes me. I close my eyes, but still they seem to produce tears. My heart is spent from sadness, and my body aches from the wailing. I am tired, too tired to carry this load. Too tired to cry out to Jesus, too tired to let my husband uphold me, just too tired.
Joel 2:25-26
And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten...And ye shall eat in plenty, and be satisfied, and praise the name of the LORD your God, that hath dealt wondrously with you: and my people shall never be ashamed.
Psalm 119:116-117
Sustain me according to your promise, and I will live; do not let my hopes be dashed. Uphold me, and I will be delivered.
The death of a baby is like a stone cast into the stillness of a quiet pool; the concentric ripples of despair sweep out in all directions, affecting many, many people.
--De Frain, 1991
My son Levi was born on Monday, June 28, 2010. His little heart beat strong for a long time after he came to us. I watched him draw in 3 or 4 small gasps of air, and I felt his tiny hand reach out for mine. It hurt to give birth. Though he was small, the pressure and pain was immense. I asked for no medications as I longed to have a physical feeling of my time with Levi. I started having mild contractions around noon on Monday, and just before midnight (11:46 to be exact) we met our son.
He is beautiful. Everything about him is just perfect. He is a tiny replica of his daddy. Absolutely the most adorable baby I've ever seen.
Tomorrow I will bury my son. His tiny body will lie next to his big brother Rowan, at the cemetery not too far from our home. It is no small thing to have buried my two boys in less than a year's time. Only 10 short months separate their beginning and ending.
I lay down, but rest eludes me. I close my eyes, but still they seem to produce tears. My heart is spent from sadness, and my body aches from the wailing. I am tired, too tired to carry this load. Too tired to cry out to Jesus, too tired to let my husband uphold me, just too tired.
Joel 2:25-26
And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten...And ye shall eat in plenty, and be satisfied, and praise the name of the LORD your God, that hath dealt wondrously with you: and my people shall never be ashamed.
Psalm 119:116-117
Sustain me according to your promise, and I will live; do not let my hopes be dashed. Uphold me, and I will be delivered.
The death of a baby is like a stone cast into the stillness of a quiet pool; the concentric ripples of despair sweep out in all directions, affecting many, many people.
--De Frain, 1991
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...
"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!!
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...
"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."
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
There is a room I dare not go...
it is full of silly lions, and zebras ...
all the things that I prepared for you
there’s a crib that lies empty
and a swing standing silently
diapers, creams, lotions and powder
blankets, shoes, tiny hangers and clothes
the pain is immense when I pass through this room
my heart is torn open again and again
so I rush past the door so that I don’t think about it
rush out the front door so I don’t think about it
rush to bed so I don’t think about it
rush...because the pain is too big
Everyday is a production, a play, and I’m just an actress
doing her best to smile and stand up straight
Oh God... Help me because I cannot help myself.
From a Jordin Sparks song :
made me think of how I’ve been feeling this week -
all the things that I prepared for you
there’s a crib that lies empty
and a swing standing silently
diapers, creams, lotions and powder
blankets, shoes, tiny hangers and clothes
the pain is immense when I pass through this room
my heart is torn open again and again
so I rush past the door so that I don’t think about it
rush out the front door so I don’t think about it
rush to bed so I don’t think about it
rush...because the pain is too big
Everyday is a production, a play, and I’m just an actress
doing her best to smile and stand up straight
Oh God... Help me because I cannot help myself.
From a Jordin Sparks song :
made me think of how I’ve been feeling this week -
If I should die before I wake
it's 'cause you took my breath away
Losing you is like living in a world with no air
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air
Can't live, can't breathe with no air
It's how I feel whenever you ain't there
But somehow I'm still alive inside
You took my breath, but I survived
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air
Can't live, can't breathe with no air
It's how I feel whenever you ain't there
Monday, September 21, 2009
breakdown
I really miss Rowan today. Mondays are really difficult for me, as they mark one more week that he is gone... Today is week 5. When I say it, or write it, that time frame seems so small. But when I feel it...it is a HUGE span of days, hours, minutes...
I realized today as I drove home from work (and began sobbing uncontrollably) that it isn't the days I'm struggling to get through...it is the moments. I don't know if that is a step forward or backward, or maybe just sideways... I don't know why I feel like I need to be moving forward..or anywhere for that matter...
Another friend announced the 'good news' of her pregnancy this week. yay for babies for everyone else but me... I keep deleting people on FB when they start writing about their babies that are coming, or posting ultrasound pictures. I'm awful, I must admit. I wonder how many women looked at my ultrasound pictures and wept for their lost little babes? I hope it was none.
I've been reading tons of books, and surprisingly, not many of them make me feel better. It's weird how even people who have lived through this type of heartache still can't seem to reach each other...
I am puzzled that in our world of so many scientific phenomenons, we can't change this 'spontaneous abortion' epidemic... Did you know that less than $10 million dollars each year is spent on research for women who have experienced the loss of a child. Or were you aware that most, if not all, insurance companies and doctors/hospitals require a woman to suffer 2-3 'late losses' before they will approve of testing for things that if treated could save her the heartache?! Late loss is just another way to say 20+ weeks. Are they saying that before 20 weeks there is no reason to test, because there is not really a 'human' baby growing in the womb or because it is just a 'clump of cells'??
Take a look at my precious baby, and tell me he isn't big enough, or perfect enough to be ENOUGH for a test to tell me why... We lost Rowan during the time when the majority of women who have elective abortions do so. 12-14 weeks.
This is a lot of jumbled information, but I'm flustered now. I will come back to this... Please join me in praying for doctors who perform abortions, people who support abortions, those who have to live with the guilt/shame of having an abortion. Please also pray for me.
I realized today as I drove home from work (and began sobbing uncontrollably) that it isn't the days I'm struggling to get through...it is the moments. I don't know if that is a step forward or backward, or maybe just sideways... I don't know why I feel like I need to be moving forward..or anywhere for that matter...
Another friend announced the 'good news' of her pregnancy this week. yay for babies for everyone else but me... I keep deleting people on FB when they start writing about their babies that are coming, or posting ultrasound pictures. I'm awful, I must admit. I wonder how many women looked at my ultrasound pictures and wept for their lost little babes? I hope it was none.
I've been reading tons of books, and surprisingly, not many of them make me feel better. It's weird how even people who have lived through this type of heartache still can't seem to reach each other...
I am puzzled that in our world of so many scientific phenomenons, we can't change this 'spontaneous abortion' epidemic... Did you know that less than $10 million dollars each year is spent on research for women who have experienced the loss of a child. Or were you aware that most, if not all, insurance companies and doctors/hospitals require a woman to suffer 2-3 'late losses' before they will approve of testing for things that if treated could save her the heartache?! Late loss is just another way to say 20+ weeks. Are they saying that before 20 weeks there is no reason to test, because there is not really a 'human' baby growing in the womb or because it is just a 'clump of cells'??
Take a look at my precious baby, and tell me he isn't big enough, or perfect enough to be ENOUGH for a test to tell me why... We lost Rowan during the time when the majority of women who have elective abortions do so. 12-14 weeks.
This is a lot of jumbled information, but I'm flustered now. I will come back to this... Please join me in praying for doctors who perform abortions, people who support abortions, those who have to live with the guilt/shame of having an abortion. Please also pray for me.
Monday, August 31, 2009
don't ask me how I am doing....
This is just a warning for any of my real friends reading this. And, by all means ask, but only if you feel strong enough for the truth.
And the truth is, I’m awful. I don't know if I could be feeling anything other than awful. It has been two weeks...just today... And, I have the rest of my life to process the loss of our sweet Rowan.
Of course, I don't sit around all day thinking about slitting my wrists or in a pool of my own tears...although sometimes I do, the tears part that is... Mostly at night, in those moments after I've prayed, and kissed Mattie good night... I can hear him breathing deeply beside me...and I know how much we are both aching...and I lose it over and over again...
But, a lot of the time, if you were to spy on our little home, you’d see a madly in love couple, learning to go about their daily lives. We cook, we eat, we play with Falcor, we listen to music that speaks words we cannot seem to find...and we just love each other...
But, there is just no way I can put on a happy face, or keep up appearances for everyone. And, I've decided that if you are brave enough to ask me how I am, I’m going to tell the truth. The problem with this, is that when I tell a lot of people how I am, they run ...and they run fast. It feels as if people are just waiting for me to feel “better” or "okay" so they don’t feel so uncomfortable speaking to me. Well, I'm not comfortable...in fact this is the complete opposite of comfortable for me...but I don't have the strength, nor do I feel it's my job, to make sure everyone around me/us is comfortable.
Speaking to me, being around me, is not hard. What I am living right now, that is hard...giving birth to my baby, when he was already gone from this world...that was hard... Yeah, and I have to live with this the rest of my life. You want to know how I am...I haven't slept in days... Every time I close my eyes I see the image of my sweet Rowan, in my hands, warm...lifeless...perfect...in my hands....
I don't mean this to sound any way other than what I've stated. If I make you uncomfortable, please avoid me for now... But, for those of you who love me...who know me... I will not pretend that life is back to normal, or even okay. I am so far from that marker...and I have no idea when I'll get there...
God has been so good to us. Giving us family and friends who love us, and who love our sweet angel baby. We pray for His continued guidance and mercy in these days, weeks, years... He is all that is keeping us going...He alone will bring us peace. Please continue to pray with us, and for us... We do need you all...and we love you.
I'm sorry if this seems harsh... My heart was burdened...and in this place I can say whatever I want...
And the truth is, I’m awful. I don't know if I could be feeling anything other than awful. It has been two weeks...just today... And, I have the rest of my life to process the loss of our sweet Rowan.
Of course, I don't sit around all day thinking about slitting my wrists or in a pool of my own tears...although sometimes I do, the tears part that is... Mostly at night, in those moments after I've prayed, and kissed Mattie good night... I can hear him breathing deeply beside me...and I know how much we are both aching...and I lose it over and over again...
But, a lot of the time, if you were to spy on our little home, you’d see a madly in love couple, learning to go about their daily lives. We cook, we eat, we play with Falcor, we listen to music that speaks words we cannot seem to find...and we just love each other...
But, there is just no way I can put on a happy face, or keep up appearances for everyone. And, I've decided that if you are brave enough to ask me how I am, I’m going to tell the truth. The problem with this, is that when I tell a lot of people how I am, they run ...and they run fast. It feels as if people are just waiting for me to feel “better” or "okay" so they don’t feel so uncomfortable speaking to me. Well, I'm not comfortable...in fact this is the complete opposite of comfortable for me...but I don't have the strength, nor do I feel it's my job, to make sure everyone around me/us is comfortable.
Speaking to me, being around me, is not hard. What I am living right now, that is hard...giving birth to my baby, when he was already gone from this world...that was hard... Yeah, and I have to live with this the rest of my life. You want to know how I am...I haven't slept in days... Every time I close my eyes I see the image of my sweet Rowan, in my hands, warm...lifeless...perfect...in my hands....
I don't mean this to sound any way other than what I've stated. If I make you uncomfortable, please avoid me for now... But, for those of you who love me...who know me... I will not pretend that life is back to normal, or even okay. I am so far from that marker...and I have no idea when I'll get there...
God has been so good to us. Giving us family and friends who love us, and who love our sweet angel baby. We pray for His continued guidance and mercy in these days, weeks, years... He is all that is keeping us going...He alone will bring us peace. Please continue to pray with us, and for us... We do need you all...and we love you.
I'm sorry if this seems harsh... My heart was burdened...and in this place I can say whatever I want...
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