Thursday, September 3, 2015

When the Waves Come Crashing In

Saturday marked the one month point from when we found out we had lost our baby.  I keep wanting to write more, to share what I'm feeling, but I've been hesitant.  I'm hesitant, because I've gotten remarks from people that make me think they think I should have moved on by now.  That I should just be able to forget and get over it.  I guess since they've gotten over the initial sadness, they think I should have, too. Or perhaps I'm reading into people or assuming things, but that's what it seems like.   I've tried to be gracious toward people who make insensitive comments, but it's hard.

Most people are truly unaware of the way their words come across. And I get it.  Prior to this experience, I know I have said all the wrong things, too.

All I really want is for you to say I'm sorry.

Maybe to hug me if we're close and not even say anything, because your actions communicate that you still care.  That you're still remembering us in our time of grief.

To tell me that you're still praying, because I need it so much more than you know.

To ask me how I'm doing and be okay with me telling you.

I don't need you to try to fix my problem or psychoanalyze me.

And please, please don't tell me there can always be another baby because I'm still young enough and there's still more time.  You don't know that.  You don't know God's plan.  You don't know how terrifying the thought of being of being pregnant again might be.

And when you say that, it seems that you're implying that this new baby will replace the old baby.  And, frankly, that just makes me mad.  A baby couldn't replace my three Earth-born children, so why in the world would it replace the one in Heaven?

You can be certain that our Heaven baby is one of our children.  That we had already become a family of 6 in our minds. We had planned for where the baby would sleep, where the car seat would go, what we would name him or her.  So many hopes and dreams were held in my heart for this baby,  just like the hopes and dreams I have for the other three.

Every time one of the kids does something new, it's just a reminder that we'll never get to see our Heaven baby do that thing...or anything.

And part of me knows I should be grateful to have a baby who is completely safe from the pain, the hurt, the chaos of this sick world, but my heart aches to have my baby in my arms.

I ache.

Some days are better than others,  for sure.

A friend of mine who's dealing with the same grief described it to me well.  She said that some days she's okay.  She knows what might set her off, but things are manageable.  Other days the grief comes in like a giant wave that you didn't see coming, and it knocks you down before you even know it.

Today is that day for me.

Some days I ride the waves, some days I'm under water.

Don't worry about anything; instead pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done.  If you do this, you will experience God's peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand.  His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.
-Philippians 4:6-7

Praying for peace!


  1. I lost my 1st child 30 years ago....and to be very honest I still have days where I am flooded with emotion. You take all the time you need. I am praying for you.
    Psalm 34:17-18 “When the righteous cry for help, the LORD hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”

  2. Thank you so much! So thankful to all those covering me in prayer. So sorry for your loss, as well. So much to look forward to in Heaven!