Starting to Hurt More

It's getting harder now. I knew it would because I know that grief involves experiencing the full magnitude of the loss a little at a time. I've barely begun that process. I'm starting to remember my anticipation of this baby and how life would change. I'm starting to feel the primal connection I had to this child.

Months into my grief over my first loss I felt empty. My arms almost hurt from the emptiness. I realized that the baby I lost could not be replaced with anyone or anything else including another baby. I was experiencing something that parents have described after having a second child: your heart grows a new place just for that child. I didn't know how I could ever be whole again when the place in my heart reserved for this baby was empty. I needed to be a mommy to my baby and I couldn't. I was made to nurture and protect my children and not being able to feels so unnatural. I had come to a place of hopelessness, but this is where God met me to teach me something new. He's the best parent there is!

Meredith had just started Kindergarten. This was especially difficult for me while grieving my miscarriage because her baby traits were disappearing rapidly. She was growing up so fast and now it would go even faster. I wanted her to be dependent on me a little longer. Of course I know it's in her best interests to become increasingly independent, so I encourage her and praise her efforts to be a big girl. God showed me some parallels to Meredith and the baby I lost. With Meredith, I get to love her and enjoy every stage, but it was always intended that I let her go a little at a time. I hope she'll be an important part of my life for the rest of my life, but my role as her mother is gradually getting smaller to suit her needs. My baby stopped needing me long before I was ready to stop being needed. With Meredith, the withdrawal is very gradual; with my baby it was all too sudden. Just like I hope to enjoy an adult relationship with Meredith someday when I am wanted but no longer needed, I know I will have a fulfilling relationship with both of my babies someday.

A final piece of the puzzle came when God showed me I didn't need to feel anxious or guilty about not being able to nurture and protect my baby because He had taken over that role for me. Words from Selah's "I Will Carry You" spoke to me. The song is about a baby who was not expected to live after birth. (You can read their story in the book I Will Carry You.) I will highlight the verses that spoke to me most during the time I was struggling:

There were photographs I wanted to take

Things I wanted to show you

Sing sweet lullabies

Wipe your teary eyes

Who could love you like this?

People say that I am brave but I'm not
Truth is I`m barely hanging on
But there`s a greater story
Written long before me
Because He loves you like this

So I will carry you
While your heart beats here
Long beyond the empty cradle
Through the coming years
I will carry you
All my life
And I will praise the one who`s chosen me
To carry you

Such a short time
Such a long road
All this madness
But I know
That the silence
Has brought me to His voice
And He says:

I`ve shown her photographs of time beginning
Walked her through the parted seas
Angel lullabies 
No more teary eyes
Who could love her like this?

I will carry you
While your heart beats here
Long beyond the empty cradle
Through the coming years
I will carry you
All your life
And I will praise the one who`s chosen me
To carry you

I know my third child is in the best hands too. Having that conviction from my first loss has made this one easier so far. Knowing all this helps most of the time, but sometimes I still feel empty. My parenting instincts are still there and they haven't gotten the message to stand down. It still feels like a nightmare whenever reality hits that I won't see my baby in this life. I mourn for all the stages I will miss. I grieve because I won't even know my baby's gender in this life, much less everything that makes him/her unique. But I get to visit my pain and then leave it behind again because I do not grieve like those who have no hope. I know my story has a happy ending.