I say horrible. . . but there is something to be said for not being alone. When i feel alone i start to wonder why. Why is not good to think about. I know the physical reason. But the why is so mind boggling. If only I had noticed decreased movement. What was i doing when he died.. where was i, where was our miracle?
But when i start to wallow in my self pity I look at all the other women who have gone through labor knowing at the end they will not be holding their child. I can't believe they have done something to deserve this.. so why do i put that on myself?
So i try to focus on my memories of the nearly 39 weeks of my son. It is getting hard because we are getting close to a year that he was conceived. Which normally isn't such an important date ( and kind of tmi), but i dont want to diminish any second of his short life. The last movement i really remember is when i took my brothers hand and put it on my belly. Francis was moving so much then. I long to ask him when that was because i just can't place that exact moment in between 8 hour car rides and funerals. He was real and someone else felt him, had a moment. Which was special to me because i'm not especially close to my brother any more.
So i guess right now i dont know where i am. Every day is different. Some go so fast that it is a blessing i dont get a chance to think.
The kids play angel baby with their dolls. And i often hear them talk about getting to heaven to take Francis' wings so we can have him back. What do you do? Just let them play. They need to work through this too.
I was watching a stupid TV show ( I'm ashamed to admit i watch every week) and there was a stillbirth. Of course I cried and my son came up to me and said, " Mommy it is okay. Francis is in heaven now and we can see him in the sky. He is looking down on us you know. Jesus will give us another baby someday, so it is okay."
It is unbelievable how the kids are a comfort. That they are given the words that will help you. I'm sorry that they have to understand this loss, I wish i could protect them from it. But there are days when i wonder how the women who lost their first born even get out of bed.
But they do, and so will I. We will ride the waves of grief for the rest of our lives. And until Jesus makes good on Gabriel's promise we will hold on a little tighter and hopefully all we will have to deal with this summer is watching the garden grow.
