A very special lady who lost her first baby at 8 months has become someone I look up to. Introduced online, he posts and blogs are so beautifully positive yet honest.
After a busy day, I finally sat down to do a bit of work on my laptop and opened a window for fb to return a few messages. The picture that popped up took my breath away.
The picture was of her newest child squatting on the ground touching the picture of his sister on her headstone. These 2 beautiful children look so much alike and about the same age. The moment was so sharply beautiful and I'm blessed to witness it.
What extremes. To stand at your first child's grave with your youngest at the same age as when she was buried. What strength in faith it must have taken to snap that picture.
After a few moments smiling in awe, my reality knocked the wind out of me. That sweet moment of life after loss I may never experienced.
I have several moms that are such beautiful examples of thriving after a loss. Every single one has a "rainbow". A rainbow is a living baby born after a loss. While I can only imagine the anxiety of subsequent pregnancies, my jealousy of every single cherub face is starting to take a toll.
How do I end a chapter of my life with such tragedy? Will I ever heal the way so many others seem to with the help of those rainbows? There's an ache of empty a arms that is often written about. There is no way to understand that ache without living the nightmare of losing a child.
It's almost comical in a very dark humor sort of way. When you are 40 and have lost a baby, you never have to worry about people asking you if you plan to have more kids. Nobody dares to encourage such an idea. The most hurtful comment I have endured was that I should look at this as a chance at a fresh start. Ouch. Would that be said to a woman in her 20s? Doubtful. She would hear she can always try again. Every time I hear a young mom complain about that comment, I always think how they don't understand how blessed they are to have choices.
Tomorrow I will once again face another day without tiny feet to kiss. Teenagers will come and go and my husband will leave for work. I will be home mostly alone catching up on work and maybe even a bit of sewing. My heart will ache with every beat. My arms with continue to throb in actual physical pain from being empty. My mind will follow along the unending conversation with my son that began when we shared a body. On the outside I will be a woman gallantly surviving and thriving after the death of my child. My soul knows better.
Some dreams you just can't simply walk away from. They haunt you every moment of your existence. Please don't suggest I enjoy the children we already have, or suggest I begin to look forward to our future grandchildren. Those are givens that take absolutely no effort.
Whatever God has planned for us, I pray every day for the peace of heart to accept. We are starting to make serious plans to relocate in a few years. Plans are a huge step for us. Just a few months ago we considered the same but decided it wasn't time. We would have been running away. To see a future is comforting. I'd like a quick peak into who we will be sharing our time on earth with, but for now we just have to leap and see what happens. Open doors and open hearts will always be available to any soul God finds fit for our path.
As always, I pray for all of you to feel the love of my sweet boy and #doitforcj.
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