Every Breath I Take
It hurts so much this week. I have felt as though I cannot breathe completely all this week. I feel wrapped up, overwhelmed, surrounded, suffocated.
Our counselor gave me a grief cd to listen to. The songs on it wrench my heart, even as they heal it. But the terrible thing is, I'm torn between my grief over losing Henry (whose "real" due date comes up June 23rd) and thinking so much about my grandpa as I listen to the cd. Do you want to know something terrible in my mind? On January 26th, 2005, we buried my grandpa. On January 27, 2006, we found out that Henry was incompatible with life. A year and a day.
Do you know what I keep thinking? Dammit! "I was supposed to find out good news that week, good news that would offset the memories of grandpa dying and his funeral." Instead, I find out that my BABY is INCOMPATIBLE WITH LIFE! Why? Can someone answer me that? Please? Why?
Every breath hurts this week. Every single one. WIth every breath, I want to scream. With every breath, I want to hit something. With every breath, I feel helpless. And so I hug the Hethan a lot. And I push others away.
I told a friend that I felt distant today. This friend told me, like any good friend should, to eat ice cream. :) Yes, well. I did this evening. And I'm still crying now. Why?
Isn't it supposed to get better, as time passes? And yes, I am functioning a heck of a lot better. But I think, a lot of the time, that it's an act. My brain is just de sensitized to the reality these days. My heart still feels raw a lot of the time. So tell me, when does it get better? I need a schedule for my grief. I need a schedule for healing.
I need a schedule for breathing. I want to do it when it doesn't hurt so much.
posted by Jenette @ 8:43 PM
4 comments
4 Comments:
just a thought from someone who knows nothing about the personal loss of a child...
i did however watch my mom go through it when i was 14. there seems to be nothing you can say or do to ease the pain...
anyway, the way i have always tried to think about it is this: (and i know it may sound horribly naive...or silly, but i'm going to share it with you anyway, i can't remember if i already told you this, but if i have you would be one of about 2 i have told)
every time i hear of someone losing a baby now, i think that God decided that that special little baby was just too perfect and wonderful to let be hurt on this fallen world. He already had to watch what happened to His own Son, and sometimes i think that he just can't bear to watch His special ones be hurt again. i know that there are still His people suffering, and not to make any less of that, but that is just how i think of it. i don't know that i would be comforted by this if i have to go through it ever, but i guess it is a start. I also think of little Henry playing with your grandfather ... they have each other, and they have God. and so do you.
i'm praying for you.
This journey...not a route that either of us would have chosen. I had occasion to ponder Sara's life this past weekend (long story), but I started meditating on Psalm 23 in the process. Janette, you have/are walked through the valley of the shadow of death--and God is there. He will lead you beside quiet waters. He WILL restore your soul. Let Him sing songs to you in the night. There is a morning coming.
For me, there were lots of time-oriented 'hurdles' that I marked. For some of them, I have a remembrance: a locket with her name and birthdate, a dogwood tree at the house we built, an ornament for the tree each year that is a reminder of her, etc. As the years have passed, the remembrances are becoming more private, just for me, and further apart. I think that when her peers begin to date, graduate, marry, etc., I'll be marking those moments for myself.
Always, praying for you, {{}}Chrissy
Jenette,I'm still thinking about you.
I am so sorry to hear of the loss of Henry. Prayers for you.
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