Tuesday, December 23, 2008

{...why won't the world revolve around me...}

When other's dream trees grow all over the streets.

My thoughts have been racing. If two freight trains carrying McKenna's thoughts are traveling towards each other at 117 miles per hour, how insane is McKenna going to be after they collide?

Riddle me that, suckers.

A very dear friend of mine is dealing with the pain and devastation of a miscarriage. Her first pregnancy resulted in a molar pregnancy. She dealt with chemo, came through stronger than ever, waited the requested time and found out she was pregnant a few weeks ago. Now she is in the elusive, 'Multiple Loss Club.' My heart is breaking for her and what I know she must be feeling. While all situations are different, I can empathize with her. I've had 3 miscarriages at differing stages of gestation. From 7 weeks to almost 20. It rips your heart into pieces and dashes your future hopes. It's a reminder that your body has betrayed you and you are wracked with guilt and constant, 'what ifs.'

You realize that life will never be the same again.

I wish I could tell her the pain will go away completely, but the truth is it won't. Time doesn't completely heal all wounds. It only reduces the stab to a dull ache. I honestly think that pain that I have felt through my experiences will not completely diminish until the end of my mortal life. When I am able to have a better understanding of why I have been dealt the hand I was, and when I am able to hold my little girl in my arms. The gaping hole that was created by our temporary separation will finally be gone.

Nothing can fill that place in your heart where your child belongs. Whether it be at 7 weeks or 20 weeks, 3 months or 23 years, plans have been made, hopes have begun to climb, and you already love the developing child. To lose that is one of the most painful and lonesome experiences one can endure. The loss of a child, no matter the age, will hurt in its own way.

I remember a couple weeks after Josh and I went through the hellish experience of losing Addalyn, I was having a talk with my Dad. He can empathize as I have an older brother who passed away some time ago. He promised me there was nothing I could have done, that the Spirit had expressed that to him. He also told me that it was going to hurt, no matter the situation. I had been feeling to guilty because it seemed so not trivial. We didn't know her, we hadn't met her alive, it was like a blip on our time line of life.

It felt like an EARTHQUAKE to me.

Dad gave me the following advice, 'Get up, make your bed, and shower. Every day.'

That made a huge difference in my healing and ability to cope. Some days I would just end up falling back into my made bed, but I had accomplished something.

We all feel pain. I consider it to be one of the things that links us together. No matter what the situation, I think we have all felt some sort of devastation, heart breaking pain. It makes us more able to help each other. To buoy each other.

To mourn with those who mourn.

Never in my life has that simple phrase meant more to me than it does now. I have been blessed with family and friends as well as strangers who have done just that. Mourned and struggled with me as I try to find my way through this mess I seem to be in. Sent emails depicting their experiences . Telling me to keep my chin up and forge on. In turn, I have been more able to love and mourn and struggle with others.

If anything, it makes me feel like all I have experienced isn't in vain.

For now that's enough.

6 comments:

lauren said...

i love you girl. and i mourn with you. sometimes when i am in the depths of grief or despair, the only solace i find is the knowledge that i have that Christ suffered all of our sickness and all of our pain. only He truly knows our sorrows, and it is only through him that we can truly be comforted. and usually that comfort comes in the form of amazing friends, as you have been to me.

and j, i am so sorry for your loss. you have been an amazing strength and support to my sweet kenna, and it breaks my heart that you have to experience such pain. i will keep you in my prayers for sure.

Anonymous said...

thank you thank you thank you thank you.
I can't tell you what a support you have been.
Lauren, thank you for your kind words and your prayers.

Kenna, you amaze me more and more everyday. I am in awe of you more than I can express.

The Jensens said...

I agree with both of the above comments. I also agree 100% with your blog. It is hard no matter what. And some people will say oh its ok you will get pregnant again, and while I did the pain of my first miscarriage is still there and it will never go away. That is my child that I won't see until we are reunited. I love your Dad's advise, because some days that is the only thing you can do-

The Wendler Family said...

I'm glad you can be there for your friend right now. Someday it will all be better, but who knows when. Until then, I'm glad you can be there for each other. Life gives everyone crap in one form or another. I'm just thankful that the Lord blesses us with friends and family, like you said, to help us deal with it all.

Kristin said...

I miscarried at 8 weeks. It wasn't very long, but I had heard the heartbeat and I still have the printout of the sonogram. I tried so hard to hang on to that little baby and the night I lost it was the hardest of my life - physically and emotionally. I couldn't really feel comfortable in public for a week after that - not sure why. It was such a raw, personal experience. Someday maybe I'll blog about it.

The only positive side is that I think it gives me a glimpse into what another woman goes through when she has a miscarriage. I'm glad you can be there for your friend.

Lisa said...

Beautiful post. Well said, as always.

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