Today was a day that I've been a little worried about for a while, but it actually wasn't too bad. First of all, there's a lady in my church who had her baby this week. I knew that she was due on Tuesday and I figured she would probably have the baby sometime this week, but I had forgotten about it. This morning though, there was a pink rose on the pulpit. They didn't know the sex of the baby and they hadn't announced the name choices to anybody, so it was exciting to hear that it was a girl and that her name is Jillian. Well, it was mostly exciting. Of course, it was also sad, because there should be a pink rose up there in a few weeks for Ada. Ada and Jillian would have grown up in church together and been good friends. So this morning, the rose caught me a little off guard. I was happy for my friend, but sad for myself. I teared up a little bit, but I was okay. We are doing the flowers in a few weeks in memory of Ada and her upcoming due date. It will be good to see her name in the bulletin.
The other thing today was that I went to my good friend's baby shower. I was the very first person to find out that she was pregnant, and it was only 4 or 5 days later that I found out that I was pregnant myself. I was with her this summer when she found out she's having a boy, and we work together so I see her almost every day. I know this surprises everybody (including her), but it really is not hard for me to be around her. When I see a pregnant stranger it makes me sad because all I see is their belly, but she's my friend and I knew her before she was pregnant, so to me she is a good friend who happens to be pregnant. Still, occasionally there are reminders. Today we had a small baby shower at a friend's house, and I decided to go. There were only 5 of us there and they all know about Ada, so I was fine. I actually don't think I was sad even for a moment at the shower - I honestly just enjoyed the time with my friends. I had prepared myself though...before I left I got out Ada's box, looked at her picture, held her blanket, and let myself cry. I knew that by doing that ahead of time I would be fine later. Is that weird? It's like I programmed "sad time" for myself. I know myself well though, and I knew if I didn't do that then I would not enjoy the shower or be capable of being happy for my friend. After all, I had always imagined that we would have a joint shower.
Emily (my friend who is pregnant) and I carpooled to the shower. On the way home she was telling me that she reads my blog and the other blogs I have links to and we were talking some about Ada. She told me that sometimes it seems like I am private about my grief. She said my posts on here sound like I've thought them out ahead of time (which is true) and (I'm paraphrasing here) that I don't express my sentiments. I've been thinking about that for a while, and I think she's right. I don't think I know how to express my feelings, really. I mean, how do you put into words the sorrow that you feel every time you think about your baby who died? I just really don't know how. I'm going to try though.
Warning: Ramblings and incoherent thoughts ahead!
I feel empty inside sometimes. My arms feel empty and they want a baby to hold. When I was first holding Ada, I told Hunter that he needed to hold her and that it felt so good to hold her. I wish I could hold her again. I feel like there is a part of me that's missing now. I am devastated that my hopes and dreams for Ada will never come true. I feel like I let my husband down, although thankfully he does not see it that way at all. I wonder how I got so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. I feel disbelief sometimes that I even had a daughter. Seriously, did I really have a baby? Was I really in labor for 32 hours? Did I really go to the funeral home and pick up my baby's ashes in a cardboard box? That seems so unreal. I am extremely thankful that I got to meet and hold my beautiful baby Ada. I feel like God is absent. I don't know how or what to pray. But then again, I have a sense of peace that I don't think I would feel if I didn't have faith in God. I am hopeful for more children, yet right now I can't imagine the excitement that I'm sure I will feel when I know I am pregnant again. I feel isolated sometimes and I just wish everybody knew what I have been though. I am mad that I was robbed of my life with Ada. I am terrified that this might happen again. I have no idea what to say when people who care about me ask how I'm doing today. I think about her every day. I hate the fact that her tiny little fingers will never close around mine with that sweet little baby reflex. Most of all, I just miss my daughter. Yet, I AM doing better. Life is getting easier. I am hopeful.
The other thing today was that I went to my good friend's baby shower. I was the very first person to find out that she was pregnant, and it was only 4 or 5 days later that I found out that I was pregnant myself. I was with her this summer when she found out she's having a boy, and we work together so I see her almost every day. I know this surprises everybody (including her), but it really is not hard for me to be around her. When I see a pregnant stranger it makes me sad because all I see is their belly, but she's my friend and I knew her before she was pregnant, so to me she is a good friend who happens to be pregnant. Still, occasionally there are reminders. Today we had a small baby shower at a friend's house, and I decided to go. There were only 5 of us there and they all know about Ada, so I was fine. I actually don't think I was sad even for a moment at the shower - I honestly just enjoyed the time with my friends. I had prepared myself though...before I left I got out Ada's box, looked at her picture, held her blanket, and let myself cry. I knew that by doing that ahead of time I would be fine later. Is that weird? It's like I programmed "sad time" for myself. I know myself well though, and I knew if I didn't do that then I would not enjoy the shower or be capable of being happy for my friend. After all, I had always imagined that we would have a joint shower.
Emily (my friend who is pregnant) and I carpooled to the shower. On the way home she was telling me that she reads my blog and the other blogs I have links to and we were talking some about Ada. She told me that sometimes it seems like I am private about my grief. She said my posts on here sound like I've thought them out ahead of time (which is true) and (I'm paraphrasing here) that I don't express my sentiments. I've been thinking about that for a while, and I think she's right. I don't think I know how to express my feelings, really. I mean, how do you put into words the sorrow that you feel every time you think about your baby who died? I just really don't know how. I'm going to try though.
Warning: Ramblings and incoherent thoughts ahead!
I feel empty inside sometimes. My arms feel empty and they want a baby to hold. When I was first holding Ada, I told Hunter that he needed to hold her and that it felt so good to hold her. I wish I could hold her again. I feel like there is a part of me that's missing now. I am devastated that my hopes and dreams for Ada will never come true. I feel like I let my husband down, although thankfully he does not see it that way at all. I wonder how I got so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. I feel disbelief sometimes that I even had a daughter. Seriously, did I really have a baby? Was I really in labor for 32 hours? Did I really go to the funeral home and pick up my baby's ashes in a cardboard box? That seems so unreal. I am extremely thankful that I got to meet and hold my beautiful baby Ada. I feel like God is absent. I don't know how or what to pray. But then again, I have a sense of peace that I don't think I would feel if I didn't have faith in God. I am hopeful for more children, yet right now I can't imagine the excitement that I'm sure I will feel when I know I am pregnant again. I feel isolated sometimes and I just wish everybody knew what I have been though. I am mad that I was robbed of my life with Ada. I am terrified that this might happen again. I have no idea what to say when people who care about me ask how I'm doing today. I think about her every day. I hate the fact that her tiny little fingers will never close around mine with that sweet little baby reflex. Most of all, I just miss my daughter. Yet, I AM doing better. Life is getting easier. I am hopeful.
3 comments:
I'm proud of you for going to the shower~I'm don't think I'm to that point yet. I pulled out some of Lily's clothes last night, and had a really good cry..I know you share the same pain at the dreams for your daughter that will never come to pass. All of this feels like a bad dream, and that I should be waking up soon to the great plans that I've made for my family, but we don't know all the puzzle pieces of the plans that God puts before us. Again I'm proud of you...
I totally understand everything you said, and I completely relate to not knowing how to answer when people ask how you are doing. Really, there are no words. Life goes on and seems normal and you stop crying all the time, but there's always that little pull inside of you that wants to respond by screaming "I want my baby girl back!" Thank goodness we know that we WILL see our girls again one day. Thank goodness for the hope we have in Jesus!
I'm very proud of you for going to the shower today. I don't think I could be that brave. I know what you mean about the empty arms. Mine feel that way quite a bit. Holding Tessa helps some, but I know I will forever be missing a part of my family.
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