I'm not sure how to start this post, nor if I even should. Sometimes feelings and events that are hidden and should stay there and sometimes they should be brought back into the light. I'm not sure if this one should be brought to light, but something inside me says it's time. This will be a hard one to write. It's been hard enough deciding to and then finding the opportunity to do so when proper emotions may flow without question or reign.
Why do I have to reign in my emotions? Because I come from a stock of women who don't indulge in such things. Let's be honest, every woman on this earth has something she has to deal with. Some dark torment, whether self-inflicted or not, that she has to stare down every single moment she's breathing. So why should I bemoan an act of our sovereign God that I had no control over? Because I'm human and I feel pain too.
Recently a group of friends and family spanning several states took part in a remembrance day for a little girl that was stillborn. The remembrance day was her first birthday. This little girl's parents had prepared everything for her. Their hearts and their lives exploded with anticipation and love while they prayed over her. There is never enough time when you have to let go of someone. They still feel her, hear her, love her.
While remembering her, I also remembered my niece who was stillborn as well, then an uncle, a brother, and so the train of thought went. It went on until I thought of mine. No, this one wasn't stillborn. This one was a miscarriage, but what difference does the terminology make? Apparently it's quite a big difference. You see, where I come from, no one is given time grieve a miscarriage. In this case size does matter. A stillborn child or a child that dies after birth is given more weight. Families are given more time to grieve. Yes, there is a time limit on grief. (sarcasm there) The older the child, the worse your grief must be, right? My apologies for being grumpy, but in my defense, I have held this in for sixteen years.
You can stop now if you like. Most people don't like this kind of subject. It makes them squirm a little. They don't know what to say or how to act and sometimes they say some S-T-U-P-I-D stuff. I could have a whole different post filled with the ignorant things people said to me. Which is precisely the reason I was quick to cover my emotions, not to let anyone see. I'm embarrassed to say I even lied at times, telling people I was mistaken. I even hid my emotions from the one person I shouldn't have. He was hurting too. I just didn't want him to hurt anymore. So many years of trying only to disappoint him over and over. After watching this couple I'm pretty sure it was a mistake. But a real woman, "Puts on her big girl panties and deals with it." I did, still do.
It took me a while to get used to this idea of openly grieving a child that has never taken an earthly breath. I have learned quite a bit from this couple. They speak their little girl's name openly. This has caught me off guard so many times. Their situation is different. They felt their baby move, I never did. But we waited for so long to see that other line on the stick. I called grandparents, siblings, and cousins. I started buying clothes and hunting down a crib. By the time I made it in for my first doctors appointment the ending had already begun.
My father-in-law was terminally ill and it would have meant so much to him. I know this because he told me every single day. I would laugh and tell him it wasn't for lack of effort. It's pretty bizarre getting fertility tips from your husband's dad. My mother-in-law wisely waited to tell him. As far as he ever knew there was no baby or what I named him. I knew what gender my other two children would be long before any ultrasound told me. It was the same for the little life that left so early; not even old enough to feel the quickening. I wonder what things he would have enjoyed? Fixing things like his brother or books like his sister, or both? I know he would have made a handsome, intelligent, wide-eyed young man. He would have had many great adventures with his big brother and his little sister. As I lit a candle for her, into the emptiness that surrounded me, I finally spoke his name.
Grief has no time or size limits but life must continue, so let Love speak louder than the silence.
6/14/2014
