Some people know that I am now 20 weeks pregnant...well, officially tomorrow. I want to use this space as an outlet for my pregnancy after loss journey. This has been quite the journey already and has felt like it's been going on a long time! The difficulty with having a loss so late in pregnancy is that once I graduate from the first trimester, I am not having a sigh of relief, like okay, the worst part is done. I am living in uncertainty. Logically I know a placental abruption is unlikely to happen again. Just the fact that there is a higher chance scares the crap out of me some days. I haven't had intense anxiety - nervous breakdowns or panic attacks - but sometimes my thoughts will circulate around the loss and the what if's...and that can feel a bit tormenting. I wish I could tell my emotions that this abruption never happened, and to enjoy this pregnancy to the fullest...but I have a feeling this pregnancy will be a journey.
It is nice to be halfway done. It's also nice to be in the second trimester. I am also looking forward having the third trimester be in the summer...some people may not like that, but I love summer and summer always seems to go by fast, so I plan on being outside and enjoying summer, staying as relaxed as I can. The abruption happened when I woke up in the morning. It was the first sensation I had when I woke up...my stomach hurt and it was a weird sensation. Then, as I got out of bed, the sensation became worse and worse. What if I get braxton hicks this pregnancy? Or what if I go into labor earlier than planned? Am I going to be a hot mess and think the worst possible scenario? I hope not...but I have no idea what to expect!
Planning for the baby to come and even thinking about putting the nursery back up is very triggering for me right now. I plan on putting the nursery up in July and having the baby shower after the baby comes. I just can't do it again. I can't have a baby shower with all my friends and then have my baby die one week later...it's just too much. I can't watch the crib being taken down or take the clothes off the hangers and fold them and put them back into the dresser. I'm not sure I could survive another loss like that. Of course I know I'd survive, but I just am not sure how deeply it would impact me the second time around. I know those around me say it won't...and I want to believe it with all of who I am...I want to believe everything is going to be okay, but deep down I am scared as all get out. There's a deep place inside of me that knows this child will live and everything is going to be okay. Then there's this other place where fear exists, and where I have a really difficult time attaching to hope. It's like most women who've been through this journey say, you have your good days and your bad days. Or, you have your good moments and not so good moments. You try not to think about it, you try to distract, but you also know completely distracting isn't good for you and the baby, so you rest, and you try to be at peace.
I find comfort in knowing God is in complete control. At the end of the day, He's got this. When I look at my life, the details are completely orchestrated. The way He's weaved people, jobs, open doors, opportunities, life lessons into my life...He knows what is going to happen and this entire life story of mine is in His hands. Of course I have free will and choice and I know bad things happen, but He's got me covered. Under the shadow of His wings. All the time.
What I'm noticing the most right now is my need for control, hence the title of the blog. I can feel this inward anxiety. It sits right in the middle of my chest, and it wants control over my life. The anxiety wants things to be just so, it wants things to be completely planned out. The obsessive thoughts are scared and searching for control and a sense of power over what happened. My plans and sense of control feel completely apart when Norah died. I lost this place in my life that gave me a feeling of control. The name for what happened is so fitting. A placental abruption. Completely abrupt. Sudden, unexpected, without warning, unanticipated, unforeseen, surprising, startling. That seems to fit the internal experience that I'm trying to bounce back from. I'm trying to compensate with control and having life planned out. It's this inward cycle of not having control and wanting it. It's a cycle that doesn't complete itself, or satisfy itself, or find relief. It could be a cycle that leads to even more anxiety and control. All I want is relief, trust, and hope. God's voice is what calms it the most quickly. Hearing Him tell me everything is going to be okay, seems to be like a dose of medicine for my soul and spirit.
I am reminded that I need to depend on Him through this, even if I'm still working on fully trusting Him once again. He holds my life in His hands, and everything, in the end, is going to be okay. He's walked me through other storms and tests of faith, He will be faithful to get me through this one as well. Trusting, letting go, giving up command, releasing, holding onto the good stuff, letting go of the bad stuff. Holding onto the promises, releasing the fear, lies, disappointments.
The heart will not grow cold. It will be warmed up again, through the new life and the summer rains, through the tears and the joy. The heart will grow deep and be deeply rooted. The heart will grow wide again and be expanded. The heart will grow soft again, ready for planting season. The heart will be released to dream again. The heart will let go of what it can't control and have opened eyes to see the promises. The promises. They are coming.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Monday, April 6, 2015
My Letter to Norah
Dear Child,
Although it's been a year without you, I have thought about you every single day. I remember your movements in my tummy, the cravings you gave me. I remember the way my body grew with you. I remember hearing your heartbeat many times and seeing you inside my tummy on the ultrasound. I remember when I found out you were a girl. I remember getting your name in a dream...and I remember thinking Norah Elizabeth was the most perfect girl's name. I remember making your registry for Target, but first your dad and I went to Babies R Us...that store overwhelmed me, so that's when we decided to go to Target.
You were my first. The first child I felt move. The first child that grew inside me. You will always be my first. You'll always have my heart, and I know I always carry yours.
I remember your red hair, your long, lean limbs, your perfect little nose and ears. I remember your ivory, soft skin...and did I mention your red hair?? You really surprised me with that one!
I wish you were one year old with me, here on earth. But you are in heaven, where one year is a thousand and one thousand is one year. I'm sure there's no clock in heaven, like there is on earth. I feel loved by you. I feel seen by you. I feel supported by you. You bring tears of joy and sadness to my eyes all at the same time.
I remember how you violently left this earth, snatched from my hands by our enemy. I remember being so damn mad at losing you.
My head has had the tendency to look down and be overwhelmed by my circumstances this last year, more so than before. Whenever I choose to be lifted higher and to see higher, my heart doesn't feel so heavy. Pray that I would be lifted higher, that I could be lifted up from my circumstances. Pray that I can see things from your perspective, in heaven, that my mind and heart wouldn't be so easily weighed down by the cares and burdens of this world. Pray that I would fly again, dream again, fully love again, fully hope again. Pray these walls get shaken down...gently is preferred. I know I cannot do this life on my own; I need to lean on my Beloved. Pray my spirit would be drawn higher, deeper, and to new levels of intimacy with my Maker.
I miss you. I wonder what our family would be like having you here with us. In some ways, you feel so real and tangible, and in other ways, you have felt like a phantom. I know you aren't one, but I cannot tangibly hold you and see you on this earth. I look forward to meeting you in heaven, where we can be together for eternity. I love you sweet child. You are my heart and I love you.
Love,
Mommy
Although it's been a year without you, I have thought about you every single day. I remember your movements in my tummy, the cravings you gave me. I remember the way my body grew with you. I remember hearing your heartbeat many times and seeing you inside my tummy on the ultrasound. I remember when I found out you were a girl. I remember getting your name in a dream...and I remember thinking Norah Elizabeth was the most perfect girl's name. I remember making your registry for Target, but first your dad and I went to Babies R Us...that store overwhelmed me, so that's when we decided to go to Target.
You were my first. The first child I felt move. The first child that grew inside me. You will always be my first. You'll always have my heart, and I know I always carry yours.
I remember your red hair, your long, lean limbs, your perfect little nose and ears. I remember your ivory, soft skin...and did I mention your red hair?? You really surprised me with that one!
I wish you were one year old with me, here on earth. But you are in heaven, where one year is a thousand and one thousand is one year. I'm sure there's no clock in heaven, like there is on earth. I feel loved by you. I feel seen by you. I feel supported by you. You bring tears of joy and sadness to my eyes all at the same time.
I remember how you violently left this earth, snatched from my hands by our enemy. I remember being so damn mad at losing you.
My head has had the tendency to look down and be overwhelmed by my circumstances this last year, more so than before. Whenever I choose to be lifted higher and to see higher, my heart doesn't feel so heavy. Pray that I would be lifted higher, that I could be lifted up from my circumstances. Pray that I can see things from your perspective, in heaven, that my mind and heart wouldn't be so easily weighed down by the cares and burdens of this world. Pray that I would fly again, dream again, fully love again, fully hope again. Pray these walls get shaken down...gently is preferred. I know I cannot do this life on my own; I need to lean on my Beloved. Pray my spirit would be drawn higher, deeper, and to new levels of intimacy with my Maker.
I miss you. I wonder what our family would be like having you here with us. In some ways, you feel so real and tangible, and in other ways, you have felt like a phantom. I know you aren't one, but I cannot tangibly hold you and see you on this earth. I look forward to meeting you in heaven, where we can be together for eternity. I love you sweet child. You are my heart and I love you.
Love,
Mommy
Saturday, April 4, 2015
Almost a Year
Today I am not sure what to do with myself, so I decided to write in the blog since it's been a while. I can't believe it's almost been one year since Norah was still born, died, and changed our lives changed forever. Jason and I both feel like it's been a long year. As I look back, the first few months were just physically and emotionally recovering from shock and trauma...and then as time passed, we were forced to move on with life. I never thought I'd be able to move on with life after this happened. I felt like I was put into a time capsule and I was not subject to time, schedules, work, responsibilities. Sometimes I would avoid life and want to curl up in a ball and grieve. Other times I wanted to get lost in work and be distracted by something other than my daughter dying inside of me.
In 2014, I lost my child, my closest friend, and business. My life, as I knew it, completely fell apart. I was completely thrown off the tracks of life and had no idea how to recover. The other night I asked Jason if I've changed since losing Norah, and he's noticed a wall I've put up...not towards him or others necessarily, but one towards God and hope and believing in good things happening. I wish that wall wasn't there. I wish I could will it away but everything inside of me is telling me to keep it there, to protect myself. I don't want to stay this way for the rest of my life; I want to be open and loving and trust like a child, but my whole world was torn from me...and I'm honestly still recovering.
A couple days ago someone who hasn't seen me in a while told me my eyes were more beautiful than when she saw me before, not in the physical sense, but in there being a light in my eyes. I was surprised. I would have guessed people see sadness and pain still, but those little comments remind me that God shines his beauty in my brokenness -- my broken world and shattered dreams. God still does conquer my wall of mistrust. He still conquers my wall of self-protection. I've started to feel that he's gotten impatient with me, like I need to come around this corner and not have it affect me spiritually. But, I have a feeling He's waiting for me and is patient during this time.
I still haven't painted since Norah died. The second to last set of paintings I did was for her nursery. There's a part of me that doesn't want to go there and awaken the deeper place, and there's a part of me that knows when I do, everything is going to be okay.
I took work off this Tuesday, April 7th to be with Jason and to celebrate/grieve Norah. It may be that I don't feel sad...I have no idea how I'll feel. I don't feel the wave of grief come like it did at Christmas. All I know is the waves are unpredictable, but they truly are less and less. I am still walking in life; I am not running. I am going at the pace that I can and doing the best that I can and I just need to keep reminding myself of that.
In 2014, I lost my child, my closest friend, and business. My life, as I knew it, completely fell apart. I was completely thrown off the tracks of life and had no idea how to recover. The other night I asked Jason if I've changed since losing Norah, and he's noticed a wall I've put up...not towards him or others necessarily, but one towards God and hope and believing in good things happening. I wish that wall wasn't there. I wish I could will it away but everything inside of me is telling me to keep it there, to protect myself. I don't want to stay this way for the rest of my life; I want to be open and loving and trust like a child, but my whole world was torn from me...and I'm honestly still recovering.
A couple days ago someone who hasn't seen me in a while told me my eyes were more beautiful than when she saw me before, not in the physical sense, but in there being a light in my eyes. I was surprised. I would have guessed people see sadness and pain still, but those little comments remind me that God shines his beauty in my brokenness -- my broken world and shattered dreams. God still does conquer my wall of mistrust. He still conquers my wall of self-protection. I've started to feel that he's gotten impatient with me, like I need to come around this corner and not have it affect me spiritually. But, I have a feeling He's waiting for me and is patient during this time.
I still haven't painted since Norah died. The second to last set of paintings I did was for her nursery. There's a part of me that doesn't want to go there and awaken the deeper place, and there's a part of me that knows when I do, everything is going to be okay.
I took work off this Tuesday, April 7th to be with Jason and to celebrate/grieve Norah. It may be that I don't feel sad...I have no idea how I'll feel. I don't feel the wave of grief come like it did at Christmas. All I know is the waves are unpredictable, but they truly are less and less. I am still walking in life; I am not running. I am going at the pace that I can and doing the best that I can and I just need to keep reminding myself of that.
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