It doesn’t hurt like a fresh wound. It’s bothersome like a scab.
It was a fresh wound on Monday. It was real. And I cried. But now it’s more like a scab.
It gets brushed. Like when I slid into bed last Wednesday night and remembered how I had rested my hand upon my abdomen endearingly the night before.
Sometimes I sit and pick it. Like when I write these posts.
For the most part, it’s just there and I only notice it if I look for it.
I feel watched over, prayed for, lifted up, and a little sad.
But mostly, distracted.
When I called my mom to tell her, she gasped and explained to me how this had happened to her as well, before my older brother was born. She said she coped by burying herself in her work.
It’s really easy to bury myself in my work. In fact, my work climbs up on my lap and buries me voluntarily. My work cries and whines and laughs and giggles and plays and cuddles.
I love my work. And I feel grateful.
It’s been a week, and I feel normal. I feel ready to move on.
I feel confident in God’s plan for my life.
I found great comfort in Lexi after my miscarriage. It was encouraging to have those little lips there to kiss, and arms to hug you. A constant reminder that you’re loved, and capable of having babies.
I am glad you can talk about it. I’m sure that is helping a lot.
I Loke you.
I am so sorry for your loss! I feel for you! What a horrible experience to have to lose your child! Your sweet baby. My heart aches for you!
I will be praying and thinking about you that you will have a peace and that in God’s perfect timing have another sweet baby!
In Jesus’ name!
Love,
Miss Amanda
I am sorry for your loss. I know how it feels. If God allows the baby I’m carrying now to be born, he will be our fifth living child and my children on earth will finally outnumber my children in Heaven.
As a midwife, I know both the joy and the heartbreak of childbirth. As a mother, I long to hold and love and rear all of my children. As a Christian, I am blessed to know that the God of all comfort watches carefully over every detail of my life and I can trust Him to do that which will bring the most glory to Himself and will conform me most closely to the image of His Son, my Savior.
Grace and peace to you,
Dana
Glad you can find some comfort in your little blessings! God is good, no matter our curcumstances.
For me, the grief comes and goes.
I remember right after I was throught the physical-ness of it all, I felt at peace. I was relieved that the worst was over and that I could move on.
But here I am two months later and it’s been on my mind more lately. Even blogged about it last night.
We too debated the homebirth thing. Maybe God will use this extra time to soften my DH’s heart towards the concept.
Beth, you are amazing. Maybe you’ll have moments or stretches of time when it’s more difficult, but I think you are a gorgeous and lovely mother for finding that love goes on and on and on.
I am so sorry for your loss. We went through a miscarriage in November. I agree with one of the other posters; the grief comes and goes. The baby’s due date this past June was hard. And even now I find myself crying off and on when I think about how we would have a newborn right now. A baby brother or sister for our daughter.
I do take comfort in our daughter’s arms around my neck, her kisses, her love.
Keep talking about it. It does help. We’re listening. 🙂
I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your experience as someone who has gone through a stillbirth I know that the grief comes and goes. I pray that the Comforter will fill you with His great love.
((hugs))
My heart continues to go out to you as I read about your loss. I lost our first baby right at the end of the first trimester 19 yrs. ago. Went on to have 3 beautiful blessings. Then 2 yrs. ago we had a failed adoption, which felt much like a miscarriage. We all cried over the loss of that baby.
Take care and rest in our Father’s arms.
Lisa Q
lifewiththequeens.blogspot.com
I just found your blog…I love the way you describe it as a scab..I had a D&C for my first pregnancy 2 weeks ago tomorrow. Some days are ok, some days are pure hell, like today actually.
I haven’t been able to really be around people other than mine or my husbands parents yet. I hate not having control of my emotions.
The words you use are beautiful. I am so sorry for your loss.
It has been said by someone more famous than me that essay-writing is the art of scab-picking.
It feels good to get the thing off: to quit with the small tearing pains of the tiny lifts at the edges. Somehow it even feels cleaner. A little. But it is also open and raw again.
So weigh both sides when you start to pick. There is an unnatural sense of freedom when the crust is yanked away, but it necessitates a time of protection and cleanliness to prevent contamination.
It’s inevitable you’ll keep picking (and probably tearing), so I pray you do it with wisdom and in the right environment to protect your wound from infection.
Peace to you.