MySpace Blog

I posted this blog on MySpace today. I also made a slideshow for families in our church who have lost children through miscarriage, stillbirth, infant death and/or abortion for Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness month. It was shown on a Sunday morning during the week of October 15th. I posted it here on MISS in early October, but did not have permission from each family at the time, so the post was removed. I wanted to post it again now that I have obtained consent from each of the families in the slideshow. I hope it touches you in some way. It was very healing to me and to the families in our church who otherwise would not have their precious children remembered. Here is the slideshow:



And here is my blog:

Sunday, November 09, 2008
"November again ... "
Current mood: sad

November is here again and nothing is as I expected it would be. As I approach Abby's 2nd birthday, I thought for sure my sadness would be replaced or at least lessened by the expectation of another child. That by now God would have filled my empty arms. Yet, here I am still longing for Abby, for the baby I miscarried in June, and the baby that has not yet come to fill our hearts with joy again. How does one heal from such a loss without the hope or promise of another child? When does the longing for a hope unfulfilled end? Proverbs 13:12 says, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." My heart is sick from all the praying, hoping, wishing, wanting, waiting and wondering if it will ever happen or if I will have to live with this empty place in my heart for the rest of my life. I am sad and I want to feel the full joy of life and love and laughter again like once before this happened to me. Every picture is a before and after -- "Oh, that was before we lost Abby, when we were truly happy and we had a life full of hope and dreams ahead of us." "Oh, look at that one, that was after Abby died. You can see the sadness in our eyes and that longing to feel whole again." It has been nearly two years and while much healing has occurred, the pain is still deep. In their book, "Warfare by Honor," Qaumaniq and Suuqiina wrote, "Two years later support deteriorates. After a great trauma, there is a heroic phase during which friends and neighbors rise to the occasion. As time pass(es), however, many (adopt) a different, popular credo for dealing with (the trauma): Time to move on. Put it behind us. Get over it. We cannot get over grief, we cannot go around it and we cannot dig our way under it. We must go through it. When we refuse to allow others to naturally (and it is a natural process) grieve, we rob them and can even disable them. Grief is not a sign of spiritual or emotional weakness. It is a sign that we are human beings and that we are but flesh. It is also the ultimate form of honor, in that our grief shows how valuable the person that has died was and is to us." I understand that grief is a process. I never realized how difficult and complicated it can become and how long it can take until I experienced it for myself. And, as Qaumaniq and Suuqiina also wrote in their book, "the deeper the loss and the more significant the person was to us, the deeper the grief we will experience." Somehow early on in this process I convinced myself that I would only grieve for awhile and then it would be all better. That somehow the pain would just disappear for good. I now realize that it is a part of me just as she is a part of me. It is something I will carry until the day I see her again. It is the cross that I must bear. The cross of suffering. "Even though Jesus was God's son, he learned obedience from the things he suffered." (Hebrews 5:7-8). Jesus himself was familiar with grief and suffering. Isaiah 53:3 says, "He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and familiar with grief." I truly believe there is nothing more important to God than to care for those in grief. James 1:27 says, "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." I am not an orphan or a widow. There is no name for what I am. I am the mother of a child who died. I must go through my life with the memories we never made and the reminders that are and always will be there of a child who is missing from our family. If there is only one thing I can do with my grief, it is to help others to understand that to be truly compassionate and help the hurting, we must "mourn with those who mourn" (Romans 12:15) and "comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God." (2 Corinthians 1:4). Love is the key. There are very few who have been able to walk through the valley of the shadow of death with me and for each of them, I am so grateful. For those who have found it too painful, long, difficult or just plain hard to watch me go through this, I forgive you. But if we are to be like Jesus, we must walk side by side, hand in hand with those who grieve. I heard at church today that compassion is sympathy in action. I want my compassion, my sympathy and my empathy to be shown in my actions and not just my words and pray that with God's help, Abby's death can be used for good. That God will use this heart-wrenching experience to teach others how to help the hurting, but more importantly, that He will use my life and Abby's to touch the hearts and lives of others experiencing the loss of a child. I want to give others the love that I often longed my friends and family could give me as I grieved. I know they all did their best to be there for me. Perhaps I was asking for the impossible. But I do know we are called to love above all else. For "if I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." (1 Corinthians 13:1-3, 13). And to love someone in grief is a high calling. I love you Abby and I'll miss you forever!!!

Why does everyone get a rainbow but me?

This is one of those times I am glad I have two boards where I can post. I just needed to get this out. Two of my favorite ladies on BBC and I were expecting news this week. One is having her rainbow baby as I type this and the other got her BFP today. I just wanted to have my good news and celebrate with them, too, but instead, while they are experiencing joy, I am once again feeling left behind. I didn't post anything about my feelings on the other board because I am truly happy for them and don't want to diminish their special moment in any way, but I feel so jealous and left out. I can't understand why God won't give me my rainbow? Why??? Since I joined the other board, I have watched 29 women get pregnant and "graduate" (give birth) in the last 21 months. Several of their babies are already over a year old and many of them have "moved on" with life!!! And I am just sitting here feeling so left behind and wondering if I'll ever have another baby to raise!! Why does everyone get a rainbow but me??? I am just so sad and disappointed ...

Grief

I hate this low place. Hate it. Hate that others don't understand it. Hate that I have to go through it. Every morning I wake up wondering what I'm going to do to avoid the deep pain in my heart. How to get around it and not feel it. I hate that even my faith can't make it better. It is what it is. Pain. Grief. Sorrow. And it feels like it's never going to end ...

Missing the way it was ...

I am just missing the way my life was before this journey started. I miss the friends I've lost. Not who they are now, but who they were before my life was turned upside down. I miss the casual conversations and lighthearted days we used to spend together. I miss being able to talk about unimportant things without thinking they were stupid, unimportant things. I miss myself, the me that existed before I became the mother of a child who died. The one who was just happy with what I had and didn't need anything more. The one who didn't have to struggle so hard to connect with the rest of the world. I miss being a normal person with normal problems. I miss having best friends who understand everything about me and accept me just the way I am. I miss the simplicity of my life, the sheer joy of just being a mom and a wife. I miss the freedom from this heavy weight on my shoulders, this cross I have to bear and the way that it affects every part of who I am. I just miss my life the way it was before all this happened to me.

Stupid Comments Already

I just had a miscarriage last week after ttc again for 16 months, a surgery and 8 months of fertility treatments. It brings all my grief over losing Abby to the surface. And the stupid comments are flying already, most of them from family members. I just had to vent some of them out. I'm trying hard this time not to let people's words hurt me, but I can't help it. I guess that's what happens when you wear your feelings on your sleeve ...

"I am so sick of death ... your babies are dying and our business is dying" (what!?!?)
"Well at least you know you can get pregnant ..." (yeah, well I could have stayed pregnant, too!)
"Pain is pain ..." (a family member referring to the other one whose business is dying)
"Maybe Abby needed a brother or sister in Heaven?" (what!?!?)
"Well, when my Aunt lost her daughter ..." (you can tell where this one went)
"I'm tired, too. I had to get up at 5:30 this morning to exercise" (after I said I had been up since 4:30am the day of my miscarriage)

Those are just a few of the things that have been said to me in less than a week. I just wish people would learn that the ONLY thing to say is, "I'm so sorry. I hurt with you and I'm here for you." You would think after going through 19 months of grieving with us after losing Abby they would get it. I guess not.

On the other hand, many people HAVE said the right thing and I need to acknowledge that as well.

"I can't believe this is happening -- it is beyond words"
"I am so sad and sorry. I don't understand"
"I don't understand either, but who am I to know God's will?" (after someone else said, "It just wasn't God's will")
"I am hurting with you and loving you"
"There are no words to tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am"
"This is a thousand times worse than a thousand CD 1's"
"I am so angry for you ..."

And guess who said these? My ladies Bible study and friends from MISS and BabyCenter who have lost a child and are ttc again. I guess they have all learned something. I am so grateful that there are some people who know what to say. And I know that even those who said the wrong thing really do love me. They just don't know what to say. But that doesn't make it hurt less. I really wish they would just learn something from all of this.

Anyway, thank you for letting me vent! I really just needed to get that out.

We've Lost Another One

My hcg numbers came back low on Friday and I began to miscarry on Monday night. Monday afternoon I had a "feeling" something was wrong. Late Monday night I began spotting and at about 4am Tuesday, I began having a full flow. I've been bleeding and cramping ever since.

My heart hurts most for my 4yo son, Benjamin. He just asked me during lunch on Tuesday (I was already miscarrying) "Mommy, can we put the baby swing back up for the baby when it comes?" Last night we talked with him about it and asked how he felt. He said he was mad, "you know like hitting" and later asked, "Am I a big brother?" It really broke my heart. I think I am almost more sad for him than I am for me. It took some time for him to process the news about Abby, but of course he was much younger then. This time he seems to understand, but I think it will still take some time for him to process.

Anyway, thanks for all of your congratulations and warm wishes when I announced my BFP last week. We are very sad and disappointed that this one won't be coming home after so many months of treatments. It obviously wasn't part of God's plan, but we are still trusting God.

Another Loss

I found out that I was pregnant again on June 18th after 16 months of trying to conceive including 2 surgeries and 8 cycles of fertility treatments (artificial insemination) only to miscarry today. I was so angry, especially at people. It seems at times like these everyone says the wrong thing. I can't understand why people can't just stop at "I'm so sorry ..." There is always a "but ..." at the end. Everyone seems to think it's their job to explain why this happened. Are they really arrogant enough to think they know? Can a human being know the mind of God? Aren't we just guessing when we try to figure out why things happen? And it's worse when other people look at your life from the outside in and decide that THEY know why it happened when you are just sitting there stunned.

I realized something this time that I didn't realize before. When I am feeling this angry, the only thing I can do is isolate myself from the outside world. It's for my protection as well as theirs. I know my skin is thin right now and any wrong move could end a friendship. It's a dangerous time for me to share my heart. The only place and person I can share it with is the Lord. Only He can really understand and love me the way I need to be loved. I can't trust people or myself right now. My radar is skewed. I am only going to hear things through a broken filter. I realize that this time. My grief destroyed three friendships. I will not allow it to destroy more. I know that the friendships were destroyed by more than just my grief, but I understand that my reaction was not in proportion to their words. I was wounded beyond repair and being hurt by those I love was insult to injury. I am trying, oh how I am trying not to hold the words of those I love against them. It is so hard ...

Benjamin named the baby. He was so angry when I told him that this baby died, too. I asked how he felt and he just said he was angry ... "you know, like hitting!" Then he curled his little fist up and shook it in the air. Bless his precious heart. I just want him to be a big brother on earth. He told his Nana that the baby in mommy's tummy died, "but I am still a big brother!" Talk about confusing. I am most broken-hearted for him. He deserves a sibling to grow up with. God knows someday he'll need someone to share the burden of his mom and dad, lol. But more than that, I want him to experience the joys and frustrations of having a sibling. Mine are my best friends. I don't know what I would do without them. I want that for him. But I also understand that if he never has that, then it was not the Lord's plan for him. God knows what Benjamin needs better than I do.

As for friends, well, I don't really have any. I realize that now. No one can be the kind of friend I really need. All disappoint. All wound. All are forgiven. There is nothing I can do to make them change or be what I want or need them to be. I am starting -- yet just starting -- to accept that. It has been hard, but I am trying to see that they love me, as flawed as they are at showing it. Most of my anger is toward my mother-in-law right now. She said something that really wounded me the day I began to miscarry. It's going to take some time to forgive. But again, I am trying.

That's all for now.