An acquaintance of mine who recently lost a baby posted a very poignant sentence on Facebook a few weeks ago: "When will this ball of hurt go away?" If I were to post a reply, it would be this: "It doesn't."
It's weird. You'd think that having a healthy new baby in my arms every day would be the perfect antidote to losing our dear, wee other babes. But while my love for Jade is a balm that helps the old wounds heal, I have come to realize the hurt may not ever entirely disappear. And that's okay.
We lost our first babe two years ago in September, so that explains why I've spent a heck of a lot of time rocking Jade and sniffling lately. It's so bizarre though, how grief sneaks up and attacks when you least expect it. I can feel perfectly mellow, at peace with the world, enjoying a great day; then I'll happen to glance at a picture of my mother, or wander into the Blue Room (which was going to be Rose's nursery), or look under the old chestnut tree where I spent a lot of time sitting wishing I had a baby. And then it's all over for about half an hour: hello grief, goodbye mellow afternoon.
The good thing is that after I embrace my sadness a little, it melts away, leaving me no worse off than before. I could blame it on these pesky hormones but instead I tell myself that it's healthy and normal. I don't wish it away, no matter how intense the hurt gets. I think it's important to keep feeling, keep remembering and to keep acknowledging my grief. If it stays tucked away all the time, it's sure to come raging out in some wacko manifestation. So I'll continue to sit in the rocking chair with Jady on my shoulder and weather these little storms and take care of these little balls of hurt.
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5 comments:
I saw that and I didn't know what to say. You are right, the pain never truly goes away. It does get better, though.
I have three 'babies' and I still grieve for each and every baby that I lost.
The good news is that I don't cry anymore. Not often, anyway.
Kim,
I cannot and will not pretend to know what your ball of hurt feels like, but you certainly have found healthy ways of riding the achy waves that unexpectedly come your way.
I imagine one day (if it hasn't happened already) your posts will be read by someone who needs some guidance in how to handle their own personal pain.
You have such a lovely way of putting words on paper. :)
xxoo
This verse from the Bible was quoted today at the memorial service in St Paul's Cathedral, London, UK. It's in honour of our British military and civilian personnel who served in Iraq. I thought of your sadness and how this wee verse is appropriate to you, Kimber.
"Honourable age does not depend on length of days, nor is the number of years a true measure of life." Wisdom 4:8
I also heard recently that we should be thankful for the time we spent with those who have passed and by living our lives the way they would want, we're honouring their life. I think you fit the bill more than adequately - you seem such a lovely lassie! xx
Beautiful, Kimmy.
You are right. We have to acknowledge grief when we feel it. It's real and needs to be honoured. Then, we also need to smile and move on.
love ya xxx
It is sad that not all memories we have are happy ones. They are part of who and what we are. Memories give us an inner strength. They give us a quiet reserve that can be called upon time and again when we need it most. they make us stronger. Memories are the timekeepers of our souls marking each important person and event that has touched lives. Don't forget that it's not only the sad memories that make you cry. Even happy memories can cause tears too.
I am thinking of you Kim and will remember your hurt and pain in my prayers. God bless and take care.
Lois
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