In some ways, it is also like a door-to-door solicitor. I sit and wait quietly pretending I'm not home. Just when I think I've managed to avoid it, it rings the bell until I answer. I don't want to let it in, but it seems I have no choice.
Grief exists in this world just like sin, death, anger, arrogance, and all of the other bad things around. In this life, there is no freedom from these things. Everyone we know will be impacted in some way eventually. The only true freedom will be in heaven one day. Thankfully, God does give us a reprieve from time to time. A chance to experience love, joy, peace, and beauty.
Still, I do not want to visit with grief. I want to pretend it never knocked on my door. It's been at my door too many times already. When I let it come in to visit, I cry. I get angry. I feel the emptiness in my womb.
People will tell you they understand. Meaning to be supportive, they'll say things like "it's for the best", or "most of those babies lost had something wrong and it was a greater mercy". I find out next week if something was "wrong" with my baby. I suspect not. The last one I lost was perfect.
Then there are the people that don't even acknowledge that you've gone through this terrible loss. Whether out of embarrassment because they don't know what to say, or thinking that bringing it up will only make it worse. The ignoring is worse. Where I work, around the same time I lost my baby, another person found out that she was going to have one. I hugged her and told her truthfully that I was happy for her. Yet, from some of the people that I've known for 11 years, not one thing has been said. I don't think they are trying to be mean, but I wonder if they realize how hurtful it is that they pretended it never happened.
While people can empathize with me, unless they've experienced this type of loss, they don't know. They don't understand that as my body changes back - slowly - I weep because I'll never see the benefit of the changes. As my belly flattens back out (well at least shrinks down some), I feel so much emptiness inside. They won't understand that I feel like I've failed in some way because I couldn't nurture and protect this precious life inside. During the recovery of the D&E, I am reminded daily of what I've lost. When I finally think I've finished the recovery process, my body decides that it's not quite over.
One day, everyone will experience the dichotomy of a loving God that allows us to endure this life complete with grief, joy, loss, and love.. Maybe, they will allow Him to grant us His grace as He walks through it with us - probably dragging and carrying us along.
I don't know why this happened. If I try to answer it, I will make myself crazy. The closest I can come right now is the song "Press On". I just try to let grief come in and visit. I know eventually it will leave and I won't have to entertain it again for a while. When it finally goes, I'll see that God did show me mercy and love during this time. That in all likelihood, there are drag marks in the proverbial sand where He was with me.
1 comment:
There's a reason they have to teach an entire course to nurses on how to handle women who've miscarried: because most people have no clue how to handle it or what to say. You're right, people really are clueless and are afraid of saying something. It's unfortunate, because your feelings of "please talk about it, acknowledge it happened," are a near universal refrain with mothers who have lost. No one really does get until they've been there, you're right. I'm so sorry about the people making the horrid "well-meaning" comments that are unfortunately all too typical as well. I'm so sorry you're getting the brunt end of that crap, I hoped so much it wouldn't happen to you, but there it is. Just know that I love you and I'm so sorry this happened to you, and I will say it until I'm blue in the face if I have to: YOU DID NOT CAUSE THIS. You didn't. This isn't your fault. Not even one little teeny tiny bit. I can't make it hurt less, but I can and will listen or just be there, whatever you want or need. There is no time limit on grief.
Post a Comment