“You give and take away
You give and take away
[May] My heart… choose to say
Lord, Blessed be your name”
Today I was sitting at work, and I heard a thump and a squawk and a flutter of wings. Apparently, a bird had flown into the window. As I watched him wobbly fly away to a nearby tree, my thoughts sympathized with him. I know how you feel, birdie. I hope he’s going to be okay.
This post is really hard to write. I have started it several times, taking different approaches. I can’t figure out what to say that captures what I’m feeling without being too raw. Explains what’s been going on without being too detailed. People don’t understand why I would want to make this public, but I find writing is therapeutic.
I sat down and wrote a letter yesterday.
My dear Baby,
This will perhaps be the only letter I write to you. I thought I would be writing many, but I was wrong. You were with us for only a few weeks. We were so excited about your anticipated arrival next winter! I wanted to tell everyone! But I’m glad we waited, as it makes now so much easier.
You’re in Heaven now, Baby. Not here on earth with us which makes both of us very sad. For a little while you were part of me! Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I could sense you were there. Every time I felt nauseous I knew you were there! Then I stopped feeling nauseous. Then I started feeling bad. Then, before I knew it, you were gone. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt so helpless, knowing that you were no longer with us. Knowing that you would not be joining our family. Knowing that I would never find out what sort of person you were. What color hair would you have had? What color eyes? What color skin? Were you a little boy or girl?
I want you to know that you were loved, little one. We knew you were sent by God. We don’t know why He decided to take you from us before we got a chance to love you on this side of the womb. We had spent the last few weeks dreaming about you, of how our life was going to change. Your daddy laughed at me as I talked in length of how I wanted to decorate your room (with cute little sheep, to reflect your last name). I laughed at your daddy when he yet again suggested “River” as a great name. Would you have liked being named “River”?
I’m sorry if I did anything to cause you to leave us so early. The doctor says I didn’t, but I still feel responsible. I wanted you here, and anything I did was out of ignorance. My heart is heavy with the knowledge that you’re gone. Someday the pain will be gone and I’ll be able to move on. But right now, I’m mourning for you, Baby, and the loss of a life we never had with you.
Your mommy, Ashley
You might be wondering how to respond or react or encourage. I thought I’d jot down a few things that have come to mind. I hope this curtails any unintentionally hurtful comments as my wounded spirit is especially emotional these days.
* It’s okay for me to be sad. You don’t need to try and put a positive spin on it to make me feel better. That actually makes me feel worse. I know things like “Well at least you know you get get pregnant!” and “You have lots more years to try again” are said with good intentions, but they hurt.
* Sometimes I want to talk about it, and sometimes I don’t. If you call me and I chatter on about unrelated things then don’t take it personally. Sometimes it’s just nice to not think about it for a while.
* This biggest one: in the future, DON’T ASK ME IF I’M PREGNANT. I want to be able to complain about a headache or about being tired without being scared of people reminding me of what I don’t have (sorry for all my friends to whom I’ve done that!). I’d really just rather never be asked that question. I promise, I will tell people when I want to announce any future pregnancy, and not before.
Thank you to all my friends. And thank you especially to Paul, who has been 100% supportive and has done everything perfectly for me, even driving me late at night to get a comfort Frosty. I love you, Paul!
Psalm 30:5 “…weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”