It always surprises me the way grief can creep up on me. I do not pretend to suffer heartache, anymore than anyone else. I believe that what is big to you, is worthy of your grief; even if it might not be as big to someone else. It's a little unnerving, how it surfaces quite clearly, from time to time. I'm very private with my grief and I probably didn't give it the attention it needed in the first place. That makes me wonder if that is why it continues to rear it's sad little head at the most inopportune moments. Somewhat like a toddler, demanding to be heard.... and dealt with!
Here is part of where my journey with grief, began...
I have never, and hope to never again feel that devastating heartbreak. I was 17 1/2 weeks along with the first baby, I lost. My doctor couldn't hear my baby's heartbeat, so he sent me for a routine sonogram. He told me not to worry, assured me and sent me on my way. I will never forget lying in the dark, trying to read the technicians face, as she scanned my tummy over and over. I silently prayed and searched the screen for any sign of movement. I knew in my heart it wasn't good. She left me alone to get another technician. When they told me that my baby was deceased, I was very calm. I willed myself not to cry, just nod at everything they said. Someone called my husband and my doctor. My doctor, asked them to have me wait for him. He arrived before my husband. He hugged me and told me that he was sorry. I showed no emotion, even after my husband arrived. I remember walking through the waiting area and the grey haired auxillary ladies were smiling at me. I remember the shirt and jeans I was wearing. That cute red shirt showed off my tiny bump, it was so cute. I threw it away when I got home. We got into the jeep and my husband put his hand on my hand. That's when it came... the sobs that take every ounce of breath and energy from your body.
That was a Friday afternoon. I don't remember anything about that evening. My doctor called to check on me Saturday morning and ask if I had made a decision. I don't think I really comprehended the decision I had to make. I don't think I comprehended everything he told me. I felt numb.
The following week my baby left my body. I didn't realize that the day was October 15th, 2004.... the national day of pregnancy and infant loss. My doctor said he prayed about me and what would happen that day. That meant so much to my heart. I remember how ordinary it was to eat lunch. I wanted a chicken salad sandwich from the gift shop. The ladies in the shop, make it fresh everyday. It seemed that life was just going on around me. That made me angry. My world had just changed, it would never be the same... but, I ate my yummy sandwich. When I was released, I went home and went to bed. I remember friends visiting and bringing treats. I remember looking at that stupid hospital bracelet. The last time I had one of those on, I had a baby in my arms. My body betrayed me too. I still FELT pregnant, my breasts were full and tender, for weeks after.
The darkness set in.
I felt like a failure. I must have done something wrong. My first pregnancy was perfect and easy. I was embarrassed by the pity, that I felt from others. I was overwhelmed by the love, care and concern. I was bruised by the words of the well meaning. I was angry at the ones who didn't see the scar. Couldn't they see the gaping hole? I was irritated by the ones who trivialized my loss... saying I could try again, and it was good that I already had a child. I was hurt by the ones who didn't say anything. I was angry from the lack of medical answers. Why did this happen? I was so sad, that life just continued to go on. Many days, I was on the shower floor, unable to leave the bathroom. I was the zombie mom with the fake smile....the mad and sad wife.
Six years, with 3 more losses. Each one... took part of me with them.
My arms still ache for the weight of their small bodies. I long to smell the sweetness of their breath. I hunger for the smell of their soft heads. I dream about the day I will meet them.
They were part of my body, part of my heart. They left a scar... it's not visible, but it will never be healed. So, I guess, like any wound... it's going to hurt... reminding you, that it still needs tending and attention. Those wounds don't have to define us, but they are part of our story, and who we have become.
I'm going to celebrate the grief... (even when it sneaks up on me, on a good day!) The reminder of something lost. And, also that I have a memory of something big and precious; that etched a mark on my heart. Each time my heart hurts, it reminds me of love and loss... that I will feel and remember....always.
Grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves,
ebbing and flowing.
Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes
it is overwhelming.
All we can do is learn to swim.
Vicki Harrison
