If there was a rewind button on life, I'd like to hit it about now. And go back to change everything. On the 23rd we found out that my friend Cheri lost her battle with cancer and went home to be with the Lord. She lived her life with such grace, and lived her last days still putting God and others before herself. She has a grace that I do not have. Sitting in her service today was hard, not because of her being gone. As hard as it is to say goodbye, harder still is looking at my own life. My faith has been shaken. Really since we lost Kaily it hasn't been the same.
I wish I could say I trust Him no matter what comes, but when it comes to bearing children, I cannot. It is too painful and too deep a desire; so much a part of me that it's almost me myself. To separate the desire to bear children and to love and nurture them would be to deny who I am at my core. Yet this is what He requires of me? It is too hard to swallow. I don't have the strength to do it. So I am at a stand-still. I want to love Him no matter what, to live my life as Cheri did (and as Job) and say, "the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord!" I want to be that person who can say the Lord is good regardless of what circumstances come. And I know the Lord suffered as well...
But when that taking away is a child ripped from the womb, the truth becomes a sword. How can we run to God for comfort when He is the only one that has control over whether a soul lives or dies? How can I pray to Him when I fear Him? Can I say "blessed be the name of the Lord" when I'm sick as a dog and miscarrying; when my friend has dies of cancer; when everyone in the house is puking while I'm still trying to recover and I am having a mental breakdown because I cannot handle one more thing; when I miss Christmas celebrations altogether because I'm too sick to be coherent? Evidently I can't say it. As much as I want to be, I am not that person. I just don't know how to be.
Maybe the pain is too fresh. Maybe tomorrow will bring with it fresh hope.
But month after month of not being pregnant followed by the dread of assuming that positive pregnancy test equals dead baby? My hope is wavering somewhere in the distance. I only wish I could hold it in my hand again.
Showing posts with label Miscarriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miscarriage. Show all posts
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Update
To top yesterday off I got the stomach flu and had to go in to get rehydrated. They confirmed that it was a miscarriage, as my hcg was only 10. Still feeling physically awful today and dreading months of ttc again.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Merry Christmas
Christmas is a downer for me this year. Dorothy is sick. And last week we found out we were pregnant again, only to start bleeding this morning. Just don't know how I feel about going through ttc again.
Monday, April 02, 2007
How things change
This time last year I had just started my blog. I was laying on the couch hoping and praying that I would hold my baby at the end of this trial instead of saying goodbye to another child. And here we are today. I get to hold and cuddle my baby when she's sick... something I only dreamed about our first baby. Knowing that she needs me and wants me is a wonderful feeling. Knowing that David and I will (hopefully) be the ones she runs to in joy or trouble is a comfort.
I think of that remembering the day I lost Kaily. When I was sitting there and all of a sudden she started coming down. Besides David, I couldn't think of anyone to call but my mom. And now I am that person for someone else. I wonder what lies in my daughter's future and hope that loss doesn't touch her like it has me. But in my heart I know... loss is a part of everyone's life. We are all touched by it sooner or later.
There is a part of me that will never be the same as it was before Kaily. I don't think that's all a bad thing. But there are parts of me I want back. In reality they're not coming back. It's like there's a new me that I have to learn about. And having Dorothy here doesn't take that away. I find myself in a bind when asked if Dorothy is my first. I say yes, but inside I mean no. Because I knew my first daughter even if nobody else did.
I still think of her every day. Not appreciating my living daughter any less, but in wishing I knew her in the same way I know Dorothy. Someday I hope I will.
I think of that remembering the day I lost Kaily. When I was sitting there and all of a sudden she started coming down. Besides David, I couldn't think of anyone to call but my mom. And now I am that person for someone else. I wonder what lies in my daughter's future and hope that loss doesn't touch her like it has me. But in my heart I know... loss is a part of everyone's life. We are all touched by it sooner or later.
There is a part of me that will never be the same as it was before Kaily. I don't think that's all a bad thing. But there are parts of me I want back. In reality they're not coming back. It's like there's a new me that I have to learn about. And having Dorothy here doesn't take that away. I find myself in a bind when asked if Dorothy is my first. I say yes, but inside I mean no. Because I knew my first daughter even if nobody else did.
I still think of her every day. Not appreciating my living daughter any less, but in wishing I knew her in the same way I know Dorothy. Someday I hope I will.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Bloggity Blog
I'm not feeling very bloggity today.
Some of the things I want to write about are difficult: the grief of loss; the feeling that true healing will never really come; the feeling in the pit of your stomach when you hear a friend or family member say, "guess what?!" and you know what's coming next. Not because you don't want happiness for your loved one. Or anyone else for that matter. Nobody would wish something as horrible as losing a baby on someone else. Ever.
But that pit-of-the-stomach feeling? To be honest, I still get that sometimes. And I have my sweet baby. But not my first one. Not a day goes by that I don't think of what she would look like. Would she have been chubby like Dorothy? Would she have looked less like me and more like David? Would there not be the feeling of dread instead of excitement at a pregnancy announcement even though I have a baby in my arms now if I hadn't lost her? I knew she couldn't be replaced. So, why am I so surprised that I still have the same feelings popping to the surface?
I remember all too well the first weeks after Kaily was born. The regret over not THINKING enough to ask to see and hold her. The nights that would drag on. Waking up only to remember, 'that's right. I'm not pregnant any more.' Crying so hard, but still feeling like no tears would ever be enough. Screaming at the top of my lungs when nobody was around just to feel like I was doing something with it all. At the time I felt like nobody could understand it. And to tell you the truth, sometimes I still feel that way. Because we all have our own journey even if similar things happen to some of us. We'll NEVER know just exactly how the other person feels.
In talking with someone from church last week, I was floored. I tried not to show my reaction on the outside, but I don't know how successful I was. We were talking about that difficult time last year and how she was praying for me. She proceeded to talk about all the single older ladies that never even got the chance to even try to get pregnant and how at least I had that chance. Not to minimize my pain or anything. I get that. I really do. There is a lot of grief in never having a partner in this life. In going to bed alone every night. In losing the hope of having children. I am blessed and thankful that I'm not in that situation. But there is a dark, dark grief in losing a child that changes a person. I really think that kind of grief is different than losing the idea of having a child (call me naive if you want to). Maybe I am totally off in left field with this one.
Some people it changes for the better. Hopefully, I am one of those people. But there are parts of me that are still envious of people that can just get pregnant and have fun planning and getting things ready. People who can plan their family without thinking how they'll care for their child when they have to lay in bed for 5 months. People who don't have to think of getting their tubes tied after their first or second child because of how taxing a pregnancy could become, especially the thought that there is no guarantee that the next one would go as well as the previous one.
Those people don't have to freak out in their minds about their insurance premiums going up and having to switch insurances because an extra $50 a week isn't in the budget. They would find another Dr. and move on with it. The first thing that went through my mind was "What if I get pregnant?? Who is going to be my doctor? Will they take the same good care of me as Dr. F? Will I lose another child?" Truthfully, I don't even want to get pregnant again if I can't have Dr. F. But how badly I want to be pregnant again, to have another child. I wanted 6 kids before all of this. That dream died hard and fast.
So, can't I at least have one more???
I can't lose another baby.
That's why I'm making diapers......
Some of the things I want to write about are difficult: the grief of loss; the feeling that true healing will never really come; the feeling in the pit of your stomach when you hear a friend or family member say, "guess what?!" and you know what's coming next. Not because you don't want happiness for your loved one. Or anyone else for that matter. Nobody would wish something as horrible as losing a baby on someone else. Ever.
But that pit-of-the-stomach feeling? To be honest, I still get that sometimes. And I have my sweet baby. But not my first one. Not a day goes by that I don't think of what she would look like. Would she have been chubby like Dorothy? Would she have looked less like me and more like David? Would there not be the feeling of dread instead of excitement at a pregnancy announcement even though I have a baby in my arms now if I hadn't lost her? I knew she couldn't be replaced. So, why am I so surprised that I still have the same feelings popping to the surface?
I remember all too well the first weeks after Kaily was born. The regret over not THINKING enough to ask to see and hold her. The nights that would drag on. Waking up only to remember, 'that's right. I'm not pregnant any more.' Crying so hard, but still feeling like no tears would ever be enough. Screaming at the top of my lungs when nobody was around just to feel like I was doing something with it all. At the time I felt like nobody could understand it. And to tell you the truth, sometimes I still feel that way. Because we all have our own journey even if similar things happen to some of us. We'll NEVER know just exactly how the other person feels.
In talking with someone from church last week, I was floored. I tried not to show my reaction on the outside, but I don't know how successful I was. We were talking about that difficult time last year and how she was praying for me. She proceeded to talk about all the single older ladies that never even got the chance to even try to get pregnant and how at least I had that chance. Not to minimize my pain or anything. I get that. I really do. There is a lot of grief in never having a partner in this life. In going to bed alone every night. In losing the hope of having children. I am blessed and thankful that I'm not in that situation. But there is a dark, dark grief in losing a child that changes a person. I really think that kind of grief is different than losing the idea of having a child (call me naive if you want to). Maybe I am totally off in left field with this one.
Some people it changes for the better. Hopefully, I am one of those people. But there are parts of me that are still envious of people that can just get pregnant and have fun planning and getting things ready. People who can plan their family without thinking how they'll care for their child when they have to lay in bed for 5 months. People who don't have to think of getting their tubes tied after their first or second child because of how taxing a pregnancy could become, especially the thought that there is no guarantee that the next one would go as well as the previous one.
Those people don't have to freak out in their minds about their insurance premiums going up and having to switch insurances because an extra $50 a week isn't in the budget. They would find another Dr. and move on with it. The first thing that went through my mind was "What if I get pregnant?? Who is going to be my doctor? Will they take the same good care of me as Dr. F? Will I lose another child?" Truthfully, I don't even want to get pregnant again if I can't have Dr. F. But how badly I want to be pregnant again, to have another child. I wanted 6 kids before all of this. That dream died hard and fast.
So, can't I at least have one more???
I can't lose another baby.
That's why I'm making diapers......
Monday, July 10, 2006
Update, Update.....
It has been a few days since I made an entry, so this could be a long entry, depending on how lazy I am feeling. I'll start with the facts from our appointment on Thursday. Everything was still looking stable, so I was approved for 3 outings for the week (decided on sitting up during church, registering at Babies R Us and going out to lunch today). Dr. F also said to start gradually increasing my "up time" at home. At first this means more sitting mainly, but I have been getting my own breakfast and lunch since it doesn't take a lot of effort. And guess what??? An official date has been set for my cerclage removal! Tuesday, August 22 at 9 AM. I will be 37w3d at that point, so a bit farther along than I was thinking, but of course the longer she can stay in my womb, the better off she will be. So in 6 weeks I will be like a normal preggo waiting for labor to happen. He said if it looked like I was in labor before that or if my water broke, naturally they would remove it earlier, but that is the plan for right now. It feels amazingly good to have an official end in sight, as well as feeling unreal.
So my first outing was going to Babies R Us with David's sister. I was excited to get out and have my first outing that involved more than just sitting there. After taking a double dose of my contraction medication I was pretty confident that it would go well. And it did. For the first hour or so. We got there and got me all signed up and armed with the "gun" to pick all the cute stuff I could think of. Before setting off on my adventure, I mentioned to the customer service lady that I had been on bedrest for a little over 4 months. She said to really pace myself because they had women pass out and/or go into labor in the store, and being on bedrest I would be more at risk for that. I told her I would take it easy, and to be honest I thought I did. We meandered around the store, and I was careful to walk slowly and enjoy my time. I never got to finish the registry because after an hour I had to stop. All of a sudden I was going to pass out! The room started to go dark and I couldn't hear a thing because my ears were humming. I thought I would puke all over the floor. As soon as I found a chair I sat down and a few minutes later I was "fine" but I was done. I still felt off for the rest of the night, and I was so worried that I had done something to hurt the baby. Obviously I didn't realize how much my body has been affected by the bedrest for months on end! From now on I think I will use a wheelchair for outings like that and work on getting back in shape after the delivery. And I think I will finish my registry online! I did register for some cute things, so it wasn't a total flop.
Yesterday we headed to my parents' house to eat and my brother and his family were over. Since it was so hot my dad got out the sprinkler for the girls, so we got quite a few pictures of my nieces playing in the water. Here's one:
I also got a good picture of David's sister with Simon:
It was nice to actually sit up in church yesterday, though the heat was a bit too much for me to take. The message was on God's supremacy in creating each of us. It was mentioned that He numbers each day for each person. I think I still have a difficult time wrapping my mind around that because of babies that don't make it. I know that each person dies at some point and some just die sooner than others, but I, along with a lot of people, put babies and children in this other category. The "untouchable" category. Why create a person who only lives in the womb? I also know that I (obviously NOT being God) don't understand much of anything. I probably don't even have the right to ask "why" but yet I do because somehow it helps me, just as it helps me to eventually stop the asking because I know I will never find the answer here. Some things are just not going to make sense.
One of the songs that we sang yesterday (rather, everyone else sang and I listened to) was the song that we sang in church on Father's Day last year, just days after losing Kaily...
He Knows My Name (I Have A Maker)
Tommy Walker
Verse 1:
I have a Maker
He formed my heart
Before even time began
My life was in his hands
Chorus:
He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
and He hears me when I call
Verse 2:
I have a Father
He calls me His own
He'll never leave me
No matter where I go
It was so hard for me to hear those words when our baby was no longer with us. If this song was true, her life had been in His hands and He had taken her from us. Not often did I think of where I believe she was taken TO. Not often did I think of how amazing her life must be now compared to what it would have been here. But what of us? What of our family? I don't struggle as much today with the fact that she is gone, and I think mainly because I see her death as the reason that Dorothy is with us. If Kaily had not died first, Dorothy would have because my body would have done the same thing to her. But what of situations where it seems so senseless? What of cord accidents and placental abruption and things of that nature? I can search for answers and ask every question under the sun but still come up with nothing. So I am faced with a challenge in my faith. Do I keep believing or not? Do I trust that God does know my every thought and have each life in His hands, no matter how short (or long)? For me the answer is: I have to. That's my choice. And hopefully the peace will come when I need it, and keep me believing even when I don't know how.
He knows my name...
So my first outing was going to Babies R Us with David's sister. I was excited to get out and have my first outing that involved more than just sitting there. After taking a double dose of my contraction medication I was pretty confident that it would go well. And it did. For the first hour or so. We got there and got me all signed up and armed with the "gun" to pick all the cute stuff I could think of. Before setting off on my adventure, I mentioned to the customer service lady that I had been on bedrest for a little over 4 months. She said to really pace myself because they had women pass out and/or go into labor in the store, and being on bedrest I would be more at risk for that. I told her I would take it easy, and to be honest I thought I did. We meandered around the store, and I was careful to walk slowly and enjoy my time. I never got to finish the registry because after an hour I had to stop. All of a sudden I was going to pass out! The room started to go dark and I couldn't hear a thing because my ears were humming. I thought I would puke all over the floor. As soon as I found a chair I sat down and a few minutes later I was "fine" but I was done. I still felt off for the rest of the night, and I was so worried that I had done something to hurt the baby. Obviously I didn't realize how much my body has been affected by the bedrest for months on end! From now on I think I will use a wheelchair for outings like that and work on getting back in shape after the delivery. And I think I will finish my registry online! I did register for some cute things, so it wasn't a total flop.
Yesterday we headed to my parents' house to eat and my brother and his family were over. Since it was so hot my dad got out the sprinkler for the girls, so we got quite a few pictures of my nieces playing in the water. Here's one:
I also got a good picture of David's sister with Simon:
It was nice to actually sit up in church yesterday, though the heat was a bit too much for me to take. The message was on God's supremacy in creating each of us. It was mentioned that He numbers each day for each person. I think I still have a difficult time wrapping my mind around that because of babies that don't make it. I know that each person dies at some point and some just die sooner than others, but I, along with a lot of people, put babies and children in this other category. The "untouchable" category. Why create a person who only lives in the womb? I also know that I (obviously NOT being God) don't understand much of anything. I probably don't even have the right to ask "why" but yet I do because somehow it helps me, just as it helps me to eventually stop the asking because I know I will never find the answer here. Some things are just not going to make sense.
One of the songs that we sang yesterday (rather, everyone else sang and I listened to) was the song that we sang in church on Father's Day last year, just days after losing Kaily...
He Knows My Name (I Have A Maker)
Tommy Walker
Verse 1:
I have a Maker
He formed my heart
Before even time began
My life was in his hands
Chorus:
He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
and He hears me when I call
Verse 2:
I have a Father
He calls me His own
He'll never leave me
No matter where I go
It was so hard for me to hear those words when our baby was no longer with us. If this song was true, her life had been in His hands and He had taken her from us. Not often did I think of where I believe she was taken TO. Not often did I think of how amazing her life must be now compared to what it would have been here. But what of us? What of our family? I don't struggle as much today with the fact that she is gone, and I think mainly because I see her death as the reason that Dorothy is with us. If Kaily had not died first, Dorothy would have because my body would have done the same thing to her. But what of situations where it seems so senseless? What of cord accidents and placental abruption and things of that nature? I can search for answers and ask every question under the sun but still come up with nothing. So I am faced with a challenge in my faith. Do I keep believing or not? Do I trust that God does know my every thought and have each life in His hands, no matter how short (or long)? For me the answer is: I have to. That's my choice. And hopefully the peace will come when I need it, and keep me believing even when I don't know how.
He knows my name...
Monday, May 15, 2006
Write or Wrong?
I used to write. A lot. Almost every day I had my pen out writing in my journal, a notebook, even a scrap of paper. But I lost my passion when I lost my baby; it just slipped away from me along with a handful of other things I loved to do. Things that even in my lowest times I still enjoyed. I don't think it's the fact that I don't enjoy them any more because inside myself I know that I do. Maybe I am lazy. Maybe the passions will return to me stronger than before. What I do know is I am a different person than I was prior to all of this; and I find myself wanting to write again, but I don't know where to start. Or what to say. Or even why. It could have to do with my fear of being judged for what goes on in my mind. I remember going through many dark times and writing was my way to get it out. It was almost like therapy. Then I burned (in a bonfire) pages of writing consisting of journal entries, poetry, stories and letters. Sometimes I am thankful that I got rid of it because of the awful place that I was in, but there are times that I wish I still had it; not to wallow in that place, but to remember and be thankful.
At least I am not here any more:
Loneliness
The way you see the world...
jaded hearts.
Ice melting away, falling freedom.
Gaze into your insecurities.
Give up your ideals of self and opinion.
Differences.
Deep, gaping canyons, they swallow you,
and humanity turns away,
a swirling mass with no emotion.
Thoughts.
Cold being.
Heartbeat concealed.
You are the machine created by...
your isolation.
Me, 1999
Maybe I am more here:
I'd Like to know the Truth
Would you tell me if it is possible?
Even if there is a place
where water rises and meets air,
where you cross the bridge from doing to being,
where a man makes the connection
between what he knows
and what he is.
I'd like to think that such a place exists.
Is it true that a man can fool his own mind
into believing what his heart has always known as the truth?
Is it true?
Even if I'd like to know...
would you tell me the truth?
Or is truth the thing you hid from others
because you feel the danger in
letting another man know you for what you really are?
I know that fear all too well.
It is so real to me that I know it has to be real to you.
Now it is clear to me.
I must stop holding the hand of fear.
To let go!
For such a small step, why does it feel so huge?
One finger at a time I break free
from the cage that has held me captive
all of my breathing days
and all of my sleepless nights.
I will look back for no man,
for truth has set me free.
Me, 2000
At any rate, there are so many thoughts swirling around in my head that maybe the reason I have been so silent is because I don't have a clue what will come out when I finally do start to write it out. The thing that is hard for me to swallow is the fact that I still don't know what to say even though I have been in similar shoes to another person. So many people out there have a "list" of things to say to people who are going through one tragic thing or another, mainly seemingly useless platitudes. God help me, I do not want to be one of those people. There are so few things one can say to a person without further hurting them or discounting the process that they are going through and the pain that they are dealing with. I have dealt with many comments that were more damaging than helpful, and had to learn to brush a lot of them off rather than try to explain why they were not helpful or encouraging. I sometimes still deal with a lot of these comments in the back of my mind. Even though my faith in God has helped me through a lot of things, many of the hurtful things that have been said to me came from the mouths of people that thought they were telling me what God would want them to say. It actually had the opposite effect than they were intending, I think, because most of them left me at a standstill in the grief process or feeling like I did not have the faith I used to have. In reality I do not have the faith I used to have, but I think in the long run, it will be better. At least I hope to not be someone like Lola talked about in her entry today. It just broke my heart to know that she was looking for something and actually putting herself out there to ask the difficult questions and found that nobody could answer them. May I be the kind of person that, because of my grief, can give some hope where none seems to be found, even though I don't have all the answers.
At least I am not here any more:
Loneliness
The way you see the world...
jaded hearts.
Ice melting away, falling freedom.
Gaze into your insecurities.
Give up your ideals of self and opinion.
Differences.
Deep, gaping canyons, they swallow you,
and humanity turns away,
a swirling mass with no emotion.
Thoughts.
Cold being.
Heartbeat concealed.
You are the machine created by...
your isolation.
Me, 1999
Maybe I am more here:
I'd Like to know the Truth
Would you tell me if it is possible?
Even if there is a place
where water rises and meets air,
where you cross the bridge from doing to being,
where a man makes the connection
between what he knows
and what he is.
I'd like to think that such a place exists.
Is it true that a man can fool his own mind
into believing what his heart has always known as the truth?
Is it true?
Even if I'd like to know...
would you tell me the truth?
Or is truth the thing you hid from others
because you feel the danger in
letting another man know you for what you really are?
I know that fear all too well.
It is so real to me that I know it has to be real to you.
Now it is clear to me.
I must stop holding the hand of fear.
To let go!
For such a small step, why does it feel so huge?
One finger at a time I break free
from the cage that has held me captive
all of my breathing days
and all of my sleepless nights.
I will look back for no man,
for truth has set me free.
Me, 2000
At any rate, there are so many thoughts swirling around in my head that maybe the reason I have been so silent is because I don't have a clue what will come out when I finally do start to write it out. The thing that is hard for me to swallow is the fact that I still don't know what to say even though I have been in similar shoes to another person. So many people out there have a "list" of things to say to people who are going through one tragic thing or another, mainly seemingly useless platitudes. God help me, I do not want to be one of those people. There are so few things one can say to a person without further hurting them or discounting the process that they are going through and the pain that they are dealing with. I have dealt with many comments that were more damaging than helpful, and had to learn to brush a lot of them off rather than try to explain why they were not helpful or encouraging. I sometimes still deal with a lot of these comments in the back of my mind. Even though my faith in God has helped me through a lot of things, many of the hurtful things that have been said to me came from the mouths of people that thought they were telling me what God would want them to say. It actually had the opposite effect than they were intending, I think, because most of them left me at a standstill in the grief process or feeling like I did not have the faith I used to have. In reality I do not have the faith I used to have, but I think in the long run, it will be better. At least I hope to not be someone like Lola talked about in her entry today. It just broke my heart to know that she was looking for something and actually putting herself out there to ask the difficult questions and found that nobody could answer them. May I be the kind of person that, because of my grief, can give some hope where none seems to be found, even though I don't have all the answers.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Mother's Day
This year I don't know how to approach Mother's Day. Of course we are going to do something with or for our mothers, but how do you celebrate Mother's Day when your first child is in Heaven, the other one is still in your womb and the future is still uncertain? Last Mother's Day I was still pregnant and blissfully ignorant. That is the awful thing about Incompetent Cervix, it strikes so suddenly and most women have to go through losing a child before it is diagnosed. Amy and Sarah are blessed that it was caught before they had to experience that kind of loss, thank God they are both enjoying their sons today! Happy Mother's day to both of you! Melissa and KMW both had to experience what it is to lose your first child (in KMW's case, twins), and I would be surprised if they are not feeling the same way about Mother's Day that I am.
Is it right to celebrate being a mother when your child is not living? How do we memorialize our children and acknowledge the fact that we are, in fact, mothers when society does not recognize that we are? And it is a mixed bag of emotions as well because Mother's Day is not a happy day for those who have lost their children. I think we can still celebrate the fact that a child was created within us and I believe we will see those children someday. So even though it is a sad and confusing time, Melissa and KMW, I wish you peace on Mother's Day and an assurance that you are mothers even if others are too uncomfortable with the subject to bring it up. For me, it hurts more when it is brushed aside or when I hear comments like, "oh, you'll understand this or that when you are a mom." The truth is, I am. Two children have lived and grown in my body, two children have been loved by me more than I thought I could love, and regardless of whether I see them on earth, nothing can change the fact that I am their mother.
baby belly at 22w4d 5/10/06
There has been a discussion about the whole Mother's Day thing on the IC support board as many women are mourning the fact that not only have they lost their children, but people in their lives flat out refuse to acknowledge that they are mothers. One woman had a family member say to her that this year she could finally celebrate Mother's Day because she was actually a mother. This poor woman had two stillbirths prior to her first living child and nobody was even willing to admit that she was a mother until she was holding a living child. There is story after story like this, and it makes me so angry. I have not had this experience (for the most part) and for that I am thankful. One of the women on the support board posted this poem.
What Makes A Mother
Written by Jennifer Wasik
In memory of Zachery Wasik.
I thought of you and closed my eyes
And prayed to God today
I asked "What makes a Mother?"
And I know I heard Him say.
"A Mother has a baby"
This we know is true
"But God can you be a Mother,
When your baby's not with you?"
"Yes, you can," He replied
With confidence in His voice
"I give many women babies,
When they leave is not their choice.
Some I send for a lifetime,
And others for the day.
And some I send to feel your womb,
But there's no need to stay."
"I just don't understand this God
I want my baby to be here."
He took a deep breath and cleared His throat,
And then I saw the tear.
"I wish I could show you,
What your child is doing today.
If you could see your child's smile,
With all the other children and say...
'We go to Earth to learn our lessons,
Of love and life and fear.
My Mommy loved me oh so much,
I got to come strait here.
I feel so lucky to have a Mom,
Who had so much love for me.
I learned my lessons very quickly,
My Mommy set me free.
I miss my Mommy oh so much,
But I visit her every day.
When she goes to sleep,
On her pillow's where I lay.
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,
And whisper in her ear.
Mommy don't be sad today,
I'm your baby and I'm here.'
"So you see my dear sweet ones,
your children are okay.
Your babies are born here in My home,
And this is where they'll stay.
They'll wait for you with Me,
Until your lesson's through.
And on the day that you come home
they'll be at the gates for you.
So now you see what makes a Mother,
It's the feeling in your heart
it's the love you had so much of
Right from the very start
Though some on earth may not realize,
you are a Mother.
Until their time is done.
They'll be up here with Me one day
and know that you are the best one!"
There are countless others that I could mention here who have lost one or multiple children at various stages in pregnancy or after birth. There is no way I could list them all here, but I wish and pray the same for all of you....
So to all of you women out there who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth, or the loss of a child later in childhood, know that I am thinking of you on Mother's Day. I know that even if you have other children with you, you will never forget the little ones who touched you for that brief time.
To all of you who have your children in your arms, enjoy your gift and always hold them close.
Happy Mother's Day.
Is it right to celebrate being a mother when your child is not living? How do we memorialize our children and acknowledge the fact that we are, in fact, mothers when society does not recognize that we are? And it is a mixed bag of emotions as well because Mother's Day is not a happy day for those who have lost their children. I think we can still celebrate the fact that a child was created within us and I believe we will see those children someday. So even though it is a sad and confusing time, Melissa and KMW, I wish you peace on Mother's Day and an assurance that you are mothers even if others are too uncomfortable with the subject to bring it up. For me, it hurts more when it is brushed aside or when I hear comments like, "oh, you'll understand this or that when you are a mom." The truth is, I am. Two children have lived and grown in my body, two children have been loved by me more than I thought I could love, and regardless of whether I see them on earth, nothing can change the fact that I am their mother.
baby belly at 22w4d 5/10/06
There has been a discussion about the whole Mother's Day thing on the IC support board as many women are mourning the fact that not only have they lost their children, but people in their lives flat out refuse to acknowledge that they are mothers. One woman had a family member say to her that this year she could finally celebrate Mother's Day because she was actually a mother. This poor woman had two stillbirths prior to her first living child and nobody was even willing to admit that she was a mother until she was holding a living child. There is story after story like this, and it makes me so angry. I have not had this experience (for the most part) and for that I am thankful. One of the women on the support board posted this poem.
What Makes A Mother
Written by Jennifer Wasik
In memory of Zachery Wasik.
I thought of you and closed my eyes
And prayed to God today
I asked "What makes a Mother?"
And I know I heard Him say.
"A Mother has a baby"
This we know is true
"But God can you be a Mother,
When your baby's not with you?"
"Yes, you can," He replied
With confidence in His voice
"I give many women babies,
When they leave is not their choice.
Some I send for a lifetime,
And others for the day.
And some I send to feel your womb,
But there's no need to stay."
"I just don't understand this God
I want my baby to be here."
He took a deep breath and cleared His throat,
And then I saw the tear.
"I wish I could show you,
What your child is doing today.
If you could see your child's smile,
With all the other children and say...
'We go to Earth to learn our lessons,
Of love and life and fear.
My Mommy loved me oh so much,
I got to come strait here.
I feel so lucky to have a Mom,
Who had so much love for me.
I learned my lessons very quickly,
My Mommy set me free.
I miss my Mommy oh so much,
But I visit her every day.
When she goes to sleep,
On her pillow's where I lay.
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,
And whisper in her ear.
Mommy don't be sad today,
I'm your baby and I'm here.'
"So you see my dear sweet ones,
your children are okay.
Your babies are born here in My home,
And this is where they'll stay.
They'll wait for you with Me,
Until your lesson's through.
And on the day that you come home
they'll be at the gates for you.
So now you see what makes a Mother,
It's the feeling in your heart
it's the love you had so much of
Right from the very start
Though some on earth may not realize,
you are a Mother.
Until their time is done.
They'll be up here with Me one day
and know that you are the best one!"
There are countless others that I could mention here who have lost one or multiple children at various stages in pregnancy or after birth. There is no way I could list them all here, but I wish and pray the same for all of you....
So to all of you women out there who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth, or the loss of a child later in childhood, know that I am thinking of you on Mother's Day. I know that even if you have other children with you, you will never forget the little ones who touched you for that brief time.
To all of you who have your children in your arms, enjoy your gift and always hold them close.
Happy Mother's Day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)