Monday, August 31, 2015

When Quiet is the Norm

I talk a lot on here about how hard losing a baby is. And I am about to go deeper into that than I have before. So be forewarned that you might want to stop reading now.

Well today (Sunday), I had a really long conversation with John about how hard it still is.

And in the whole conversation where there were a lot of confessions made about how we both handled it and how much it still hurts- the thing that kept coming up was how alone I feel to this day in that loss.

Society expects us to stay quiet about it. There has been a huge movement in the last couple of years to offer support and to encourage people to open up but for the most part nobody wants to hear about it. Because to some people, that sweet baby I lost was never a baby. She was never a person who deserves any recognition of having existed.

But she was real. And she was mine. And part of me died the day I lost her.

No one will ever understand that except another mom who has experienced it too.

The blame game is a real thing that doesn't end even after 11 years. Not blame for other people but blame of myself and of God. Which is a struggle that I don't know if I will ever get past.

Everyone tells you to turn to God and lean on him and to trust him. But how to you fully trust someone who took away something so precious and so loved.

I've been told to move on by people who have no clue what it feels like. I have been called selfish and stupid for lashing out and blaming John at the time. All by someone who will hopefully never know that loss and that pain. Because they don't understand.

I know that there is always a dad out there that suffers the loss too. And I know that they hurt and they probably blame themselves. Because John did and still does. I don't know if it is the same. I can't answer that question.

I know that for me, my husband was playing golf when it happened and I sat in a cold ER room by myself for hours. I was alone in an ultrasound room with a stranger praying for a heartbeat. And while there was one- the other was silent. I did all of that alone. I laid in a bed by myself later that night, scared to move. I was alone. Because the one "person" who is never supposed to leave your side had abandoned me. I literally felt abandoned by God in the moment.

I am pretty open about that baby with other moms who have lost. But I never go deeper. I don't talk about how I felt abandoned and alone. I have actually never told John until today. I am like so many others who will sit there and keep it all in and grieve alone.

But by doing it alone, I have never really acknowledged all the feelings and fears that go with it. And now it is coming back to haunt me in ways I never thought possible.

I don't want sympathy and I certainly don't want anyone's comments that are going to tell me that I need to get over it or that I need to work on my relationship with God. I have been hearing that for 11 years. What I want from actually putting all this out there is for everyone to realize that a mom who loses a baby never gets over it. And to them that baby was as real as if she had held them in her arms. That loss goes deeper into her soul than you can imagine. So stop telling them to be quiet just because you don't want to listen to them. I don't think that you have to completely understand what they are going through to listen to them. Let them vent and let them grieve openly if they want to. Just stop asking all these moms to be quiet and keep it all to themselves.


  1. I love you More than words can describe at this moment.

  2. Just...yes. All of this. Love you so much, my friend. (((BIG hugs)))