Today your arms are empty. And they shouldn’t be. You should be smelling stinky diapers, scrubbing stained bibs, bragging about baby’s growth. You see pregnancy announcements, and complaining moms. You should be one.
should. deserve. wish.
Your eyes fill with tears, as you mourn what should be.
Your arms ache when you see those babies. but the words don’t come.
Oh mama, my heart aches with you when you read those articles about children being hurt because people are selfish.
As you survey your life, as you think over the should, and wishes of your heart, and list your good qualities on the “I deserve” card.. I am right there with you.
Dear mom, we are one and the same. Our journey to this destination may each be slightly different. Some have never had the privilege of a pregnancy that ends in a healthy baby. Some know why they can’t, some don’t.
We have all heard the word “but” followed by a crazy statement that makes your eyes roll. We have all extended grace, and smiled through the pain, knowing this pain is unique and their hearts are in a good place.
I’m sorry. On this day, Infant & Pregnancy Loss Awareness Day, I see you. I see you standing there. I see the silent tears, the emotions you hide. I see the pain you tuck away for the safety of your “spot”. I don’t know your spot, but I have one too. It’s a place we go, mentally or physically or both, to release the pain we feel. There is no time limit, this grief and pain never goes away, yet those outside this group cannot seem to grasp that. And there’s this invisible cut off date, where we realize our pain and grief isn’t welcome where we are present. So we put on these masks, we keep our emotions in check until we get to our spot.
I visit my spot less lately. I’ve been happy. I am choosing joy. But there are some hard dates coming up, and I know my spot is there, ready for me.
Today say that baby’s name. Do something for him or her. If it’s an unnamed baby, a pregnancy lost to soon, do something for that baby too.
Liam. This is for Liam and the other babies I lost too soon.
This is for all you mamas and daddies who lost a baby before you got to meet him or her. For the moms who hear the comments, feel the pain, and feel “stuck”.
I see you. I care for you.
I should have..
My days are quiet. While my oldest is at school, it’s me and Callan. I am very rarely not caught up with laundry anymore, unless I intentionally let it go for a day or two. I do the grocery shopping, I clean the kitchen. I am looking for a job even.
My days are quiet and routine. I sleep all night. Last night I was in bed by 9:30. And I am grateful for the life we have, but I can’t help but wish it were different sometimes.
BUT in all things, HE IS GOOD.
And yes, it’s very hard for me to say that. It was hard to believe it. I remember singing that song one Sunday and looking at my pastor, in tears, unable to even say the words. He is good? How so? I believed, I prayed, I trusted. He is good?
I am here. I am sharing. I am wanting you to know, you aren’t alone in your invisible cloak of grief. I see it.
I never ask this, but I am today. If you know ANYONE on your friends list who has suffered this, share it.
If you’re reading this and you have suffered a loss, I am here for you. I care for you. I feel your pain. And after I am done typing this, I cannot promise to have anything awesome or perfect to say. But I can nod as you share and say, “I get it”.
“The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” Psalms 18:2
May your spot, your place of safety include Him.
Love and hugs with a definite forecast of tears today,