Friday, December 21, 2012

Broken Hearted

There are so many young girls, really, who pray every month "oh please let my period come, please" who have no idea how much they may want the opposite one day. To be given the blessing of holding the beautiful mixture of two people, in their waiting arms: safe, healthy, and crying. Every month I prayed for a child, but not just a baby--a baby I get to carry for 10 months and hold alive in my arms when it is all through.

I have one living angel. I chase him all day, laughing down our hallways. Wipe his nose, feed him his favorite vegetables, bribe him to eat his meat with katsup, hold him when he falls, read him Brown Bear until I barely need to look at the pages, and rock him to sleep. But I also now have four angel babies who I never got to hold, or see, or touch, or feel stir within me.

I hold on so tightly to hope every time but this one feels particularly harsh. We had a heartbeat, a flickering peanut on the screen. Which meant only a 5% chance of loss. I breathed a little easier as my pants fit tighter and tighter. But now I feel like I should have known.

The nausea ran into loss of appetite, but I thought "maybe this baby is just different". My symptoms became less severe. My hormones were still high, I was still debilitatingly exhausted. I still could feel my growing belly. But at some point she left me, so soon after we'd seen her life beating before us. I know I "couldn't" have known; but I also know I ignored my unease and just prayed feverishly that, for once, maybe God was just giving me an easier path.

I don't think God knows how to do that. Not for me at least. My path is always seeming to be filled with these events that cause my soul to be broken. Rehealing, but with all these fissures unsealed. It makes me wonder, every time, what kind of God could do this to us? My mom didn't believe in a God, she said, who caused loss or who would intentionally take away those we loved. But it's hard to see that in these times. When I have to go have my baby removed, tested, and analyzed because they can't seem to live within me.

I feel SO broken. It's all I feel. Like my body is in a thousand, broken, irreparable pieces. I know I'll begin again. But I hold all these lives I've lost within me every day. They make my soul ache so acutely.

I have a stack of beautiful Christmas cards I can never mail because they announced a life who will never join us, a big brother who never may get to be one. It feels like hundreds of people knew, people I don't even know or care about, because two family members who have no concept of our losses and nerves can't seem to understand that when we say "it's very early, please don't tell anyone until after our 12 week appointment" they think we are just being overly cautious and ignore our wishes. And now I have an inbox full of pity and "we understands" when I know they don't and I'm irrationally furious they knew in the first place. I know the fury is the pain of all this, but it seems so rational now to just hide within this anger if it makes my pain bearable even for a second.

Watching my incredible husband let himself break down when he doesn't think I'm watching. Is the worst of all. He lost her too. His baby. Our family. But he's so strong for me. So strong that I feel a tightness in my chest thinking that I get to spend my life with him. That I could never lose him; that I just want to burry myself in his arms every day, every moment, forever. This first gift I was given: my partner. Who has always and will ever be, the only person who lets me be the weak one. He makes me so safe. I hate that this keeps breaking him too. For him as well, this baby is the worst of them all to lose. Like that five percent will haunt us forever, our hope gone, the ache feeling our family isn't complete tempered with not knowing if we can chance going through this again. Our marriage can always withstand it, but can our hearts? Can we as loving parents, continue to look at our son and wonder "is he all we are to be blessed with? He is so much of all the good things on this earth, should we just be satisfied? And grateful?"

I can't seem to answer any of it right now. I wish I could hold her. It's 4:00 in the morning and even the sleeping pill they gave me so I can make it through tonight and to the hospital tomorrow afternoon isn't working. I'm here, holding the latest of my swollen bellies because tomorrow I'll be barren again. I'll re-pack my maternity clothes knowing I can't bear to see them. I'll hold Lloyd tight as I cry.

He just kept signing "hurt" today watching me moan, tears run down my face in sheets, howl with pain in the doctors office. Yes bubba, Momma is hurt. On the inside. But you heal her. You still make me laugh through all this and you remind us why. But yes, momma "hurt". Kiss it better. Rock me to sleep. You've always had my heart in your hands. My sweet sweet angel, the words I've murmured to you every morning since you were born. My sweet angel. Hold tight to this innocence, I pray you no hurt. If that is all I accomplish in this life is to spare you the pain I have so endured, my success will be measured in your beautiful life.


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