Thursday, June 14, 2012

It Comes In Waves

Everything is fine again! Life is so lovely, summer is just stretching her legs, and the sun has been smiling.

New friends are being made, new hearts being discovered, and new joy showing itself to me.
I’ve been reconnecting to old friends, discovering the richness of being known, and discovering the beauty of receiving.

God is good and life is beautiful.

And so I thought I was done grieving.

I found out I’m not.

It hit me tonight in the quiet – when I could no longer hide in the noise.

I usually relish my quiet space. I plan my time alone to the fullest with the things I want to do to recharge my soul, spiritually and practically.

But in the past two days of complete quiet after work, with Adam gone at networking meetings and not a single sound in the house except the buzz of the refrigerator and the hum of the air conditioning, I’ve had a complete lack of desire for anything.

Folding one basket of laundry is so difficult that I can’t deal with the other overflowing basket. I put it back against the wall. I pull into the gym parking lot and can’t make myself walk inside. I even go to one of my favorite Starbucks in Laguna Beach and I just want to leave. I really just want to be home and sit.

And finally, after two days of resisting the quiet with attempted chores and lots of iPhone app surfing and lots of attempted life planning, I finally went to the corner spot of the couch and just sat there.

And then it came.

The second wave of grief for the baby I lost 3 weeks ago. The baby I buried with Adam outside the window where I type these words. The baby I was able to see and hold at only six and a half weeks.

A baby who had a visible brain and spinal cord. A baby whose arms were budding and whose eyes were visible.

A baby who, for a little while, I had given life to. And a baby who was taken home even earlier than it’s sibling two and half years ago.

And so I sit here, for the second time in three years, grieving how two unplanned joys have turned into two of the biggest heartaches I’ve ever known.

And as I sit here, I'm hoping that this isn’t all I will ever know of motherhood.

1 comment:

  1. This made me cry especially since I had a miscarriage not too long ago. Thank you for your vulnerability and strength to even sit and grieve something like that. So many women just try and busy there way out of the hurt including myself when it comes to something of that magnitude. God is a rewarded of those that believe and honor Him, don't lose hope :) love you and miss you hope your doing well - Kt