Sunday, November 14, 2010

Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?

One of my dearest friends shared this excerpt with me from "Spoken From the Heart" by Laura Bush

"For some years now, the wedding invitations that had once crowded the mailbox had been replaced by shower invites and pink-or-blue-beribboned baby announcements. I bought onesies or rattles, wrapped them in yellow paper, and delivered them to friends. I had done it with a happy wistfulness, believing that someday my time, my baby, would come. George and I had hoped that I would be pregnant by the end of his congressional run. Then we hoped it would be by the time his own father announced his presidential run, then by the presidential primaries, the convention, the general election. But each milestone came and went. The calendar advanced, and there was no baby.

The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful some not. Still we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only “I’m sorry for your loss.” But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held? "

Source: Spoken From The Heart By Laura Bush

Thanks for sharing this with me Beth!

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Miscarriage vs. Unchosen

In a way, I used to be grateful I couldn't get pregnant. Because if I couldn't get pregnant, at least I would never have to endure the heartache of a miscarriage. Before we got Josh's results back, I lived in fear that I would find out I was pregnant, only to later miscarry. My periods are never regular, and even though I would remind myself of that, each time I would think "but what if its late this time because I really am pregnant?"

One such period was really late and then when it came it was so bad I was convinced I was miscarrying. It was so horrible. I won't share the details because they are kind of gross, but it seemed so real. One thing I need to learn is that my periods are never on time, never normal and most defiantly never the same.

That is why, in its own way, Josh's results were somewhat of a relief. I have never been pregnant which means I have never miscarried. I used to pray and thank God that I couldn't miscarry. I couldn't get pregnant, but at least I would never have to mourn the loss of a child through miscarriage.

Then I realized, I was an expectant mother and I lost a baby. I know its not the same as a miscarriage, but it feels like it to me. There was a baby that was going to become a part of our family. We had a name picked out and we were just starting to pick out nursery items when we lost our baby. So many hopes and dreams were finally coming true.

Its so hard to loose a baby. It hurts so much. After so many years of waiting we were finally living the joy of expectant parenthood. My husband told me daily that I was glowing and I knew he was right because he was glowing too. I learned that expecting a baby is the highest of high, head in the clouds, kind of happiness. And losing a baby is the lowest and deepest hurt of all hurts.

One of the hardest parts of a miscarriage is the silent mourning. No one seems to understand just how hard it is. They try to reason that there wasn't actually a baby so how can there be a loss. That is something which haunts me the most. I lost a baby! Couldn't some of the closest people in my life acknowledge my loss and how hard it was on me? Their feelings seem to be "just get pregnant again" or "just get back out there and try to adopt again."

It was so hard to mourn because I didn't have some thing physical to direct my grief towards, like a funeral and a monument like mourners have when they loose a loved one to death. But it was so real. I loved that little baby. I had no control to keep her in my life. And there is no way to replace that specific baby. If your husband dies, you don't just go out and marry the first man you meet so you can replace him. Even if you find another man, fall in love and get married, it doesn't replace the your first husband. It is the same when it comes to a miscarriage. You can't just have another baby, that doesn't replace the one you loss. You could have 10 babies, but they all still couldn't replace the loss of the one you lost. There is a hole that will never fully heal in my heart because of my loss.

Now each time I hear of a friend miscarrying, my heart cries out in anguish, because I know how real that loss is, how much it hurts, how devastating it feels. When I try to find the right words of comfort, I realize, there are no words that can be said to make this all better. But I still try because I have to. I have to let them know how I hate that it happened to them and how unfair it seems. I have to let them know I love them and care for them.

Miscarriages are real. And loosing a baby is so painful, so hard.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Waiting for the wind

A dear friend and I were emailing back and forth yesterday about National Adoption Month which of course led to talking about being unchosen. She also has felt the pain of loving a birth mom and her baby, only to have things change. Its a stinging pain. Its a pain that I am learning lessens with time, but still has its moments where it flames up and you feel like it might consume you. I've been focusing mostly on the good memories and rereading some beautiful emails that were my lifeline a year ago. But its so hard to stop the reminiscing there; its hard to remember just the good parts of a story that has a sad ending. But I digress.

In our conversing, my friend said something that I really liked and I wanted to post it so I don't forget it.

"Play it by day by day and see how you feel. You'll either get a 2nd wind to jump in again...or you'll feel the wind blowing you somewhere else. Either way, everything turns out all right in the end."

That is exactly how I feel right now. The wind isn't really blowing me towards adoption right now, but it also isn't really blowing me away from it either.