October, infant and pregnancy loss awareness month. This is the month we share our pain, to give others a voice that may have been silenced.
But for a mother, no voice is louder than that ear-splitting silence. No voice is needed to be reminded of that ultrasound. "I'm so so sorry." Were the doctor's words, and at the very moment, my world fell apart. All the parts of me I had perfectly set up for 26 years, came crumbling down. Proving in the most painful way possible, that my life is not in my control.
The thing about broken pieces is that they're impossible to pick up. Or at least it feels that way. As I write these very words my heart is racing and the tears are choking me up.
Yes, time does heal and I don't know what I would have done without that precious gift of time. But heal does not mean erase.
We have been gifted with the most precious, smiley, blonde haired blue eyed baby that makes every passer by smile. He is our life and our light, and most definitely a rainbow after a storm.
I have not forgotten and I never do. My baby who was buried lives in my heart, every day, every minute. Sometimes it's a fleeting memory, sometimes I'm triggered, sometimes I light my Shabbos candles and remember my child, that you don't know.
No, I am not falling apart on a regular basis. No, I am not crying bitter tears into my pillow every night. No, I am not blurred by loss and grief on a regular basis.
A part of me is missing and always will be. I have learned to be whole even when I'm not. I have learned to be happy alongside sadness. I have learned that just as one can walk with a missing limb, I too can live with a missing child.
I have learned the beauty of "and". I am grateful for the children I have and terribly miss the one I don't. I count my blessings every day; more aware than ever that life is not to be taken for granted, that every minute my heart is beating is a pure miracle. And yet, I am so pained by loss and by the death of my pure baby.
And that's ok. It's painful and it's not fun. It hurts and it's exhausting. It's numbing and it's paralyzing. And that's ok. Ok to suffer, ok to hurt. Ok to move on, ok to remember.
It's ok.
Comments