SickThursday, November 17, 2011
I am sick.
I am sick that instead of looking for dresses and favors for my Bea’s first birthday, I am looking for just one more perfect item to commemorate loss. I only have dozens of items with her name on them- but I need more (maybe I'm afraid I'll forget?)
I am sick of seeing stories in the news about people harming their children, knowing that I would never have done that to my Bea.
I am just sick of all of it. The whole “baby loss” thing.
I am sick of seeing people making money off of bereaved parent’s desperation.
I am sick of this community thing- like we are a tribe apart…. Different than all the other moms. We have some type of leprosy.
I am sick of searching for answers.
I am sick of having each and every day go by, and being torn between the place that I am in, and the place I want to be.
I am sick of the life that I have- and of grief over not just Bea, but the life I lost… not once, not twice, not three times, but four times- once at 9 weeks, when they told me I was miscarrying. Once at 16 weeks, when they diagnosed her with T13. Once at 26 weeks, when it was confirmed that she had LBWC, and once on December 13th, when she stayed with us for such a short time.
I am sick because I don’t eat well, or sleep well. I just don’t live well any more.
I am sick of breathing, sometimes.
I miss it, that other life. That was two springs ago. I didn't know anything about this sickness. I didn't know anything about this creeping ugliness in my soul. I didn't know anything about death and strength and life lived too shortly.
Birth defects were something you read about in the news. And babies didn't die from them- they just had a more difficult time.
We live in America- this just doesn't happen here. And it certainly doesn't happen to me. I mind my p's and q's.
I am sick with wanting. With waiting. I am sick with this year. This day. This hour.
And I realize that this is no longer my home. I don't belong here.
I used to think that people who couldn't wait for Heaven were crazy- I thought it would be s struggle for me to let go of my earthly life.
No, I walk with one foot in Heaven, and another on earth.
I'm sick of death and broken dreams and broken hearts.
I'm sick of the photographs of my daughter, who is dead. Not because I don't want to see her, but because I want to see HER. All of her photos will always be old. Old photos of a dead baby. I don't want that.
I am sick of this fallen place. This opening where darkness rears it's ugly head, and defeats me.... over and over again.
My outsides are plastic, while my insides are all commotion. Everything moves in me, and the smallest things pierce me, and I just want to let it all go.
This is where I am trying to be today:
"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."
It's not going so well.