Sometimes silence in a situation can be more painful than any choice sentences. Silence creates questions as your heart begs for communication. Your eyes watch just to hear those two words.
” I’m sorry. “
Those two words can change a persons heart. As we say them or receive them barriers are broken down between two hurting people as they speak.
Often miscarriages are overlooked. Whether they are 7 weeks along, like mine , or 38 weeks along. People don’t know how to handle them. What to say that can bring comfort. And some just really don’t care.
I’ve had to get past expecting people to say what’s on my heart for them to say to me. I’ve had to lay down my needs to be loved and cared for in the name of , you guessed it.
Silence.
There are many many things women suffer through silently in this world, but I can promise you that the loss of a child before he takes his first breath earth side is one of them. I can promise you many of them cry themselves to sleep, their arms aching for the child they will never hold here.
I’ve been asked several times if we wil try again for another child. The answer in this season is no.
But can I rephrase that question ?
” Do you want another baby, Rachel?”
Yes. Undoubtedly . Whole heartedly YES. I will ALWAYS want another baby. I will ALWAYS miss the kicks in the middle of the night . I will ALWAYS miss giving birth and hearing my babies cry for the first time. I will always miss late night feedings and first diaper changes and the newness of it all. I will always miss the first time they open their eyes and your whole life changes , again.
But will I birth another? Probably not. But that doesn’t mean I won’t always desire another. Even when I’m 78 and still drinking wine and blogging, I’ll want another baby head to sniff. Another tiny hand to admire in my wrinkled one.
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I had been going through the motions . Grieving some, but we all know life doesn’t stop. I couldn’t go away to Switzerland until I was stable . I had to make myself get out of bed, and still do.
We had a party to attend a couple weeks ago. All of our children received balloons , and we all know that ends up badly. Someone pops one. Someone looses one and someone bites one, then Momma has a heart attack.
Our eldest Asher had two balloons , one on each hand. He walked up to me while I was having a brief moment of what I like to call ” sitting” with one leg on the bench of a table , the other planted on the floor in case I need to run after a toddler headed for bird poop.
” Momma, what do I do with this other balloon?”
The words just came out of my mouth like I was a lunatic.
” Give it to your brother .”
” WHAT MOM? Who!!!?”
” Oh sorry buddy I meant to say your sister. “
” a yeah cuz I don’t have a brother.”
” right.”
Reality slapped me in the face and tears flooded my sunglasses covered eyes. You do have a brother son. You just don’t know it yet. But he knows you. He’s like you. He has your features and your smile. Your freckles and cheeks.
It was in that moment that I knew. I would always look for Jude . Always want to include him in our family events. The pain of loosing him would fade, but the intense love for the son I never met face to face will not.
I watched Asher scurry up to an open field area at that park. I watched him release the other balloon. As if he knew deep down that would make me happy. So happy I giggled and squealed like a child. Like him, who found great pleasure in releasing the balloon .
“Where did the balloon go Bud?”
” Into heaven Momma. It went fast.”
Sure did. Just like your brother.
I prayed in that moment that Jude would see the balloon I wanted him so desperately to hold. I wanted him to bop his brothers head and wrestle him to the ground to get it back. He was playing with far more fun things than balloons that day, but how I wished he was with me. With us.
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If you are reading this blog and you have a friend or loved one that has lost a baby, my one bit of advice to you is this:
Say something. Say you’re sorry. They don’t need a speech or even a silent prayer. They need to hear two words from you. For heavens sake.
I’m sorry.
