Thursday, October 1, 2015

A letter to my neighbor

Dear neighbor,
I'm sorry about this morning. Seeing you at the doctor's office with a string of photos from your 20 week ultrasound really caught me off guard. I don't really know what my face looked like when you asked me if I wanted to see the pictures of your little guy. It may have seemed like I was horrified. I know I kinda froze. I didn't know what to do. I just realized that's what I should be doing right now and it hit me kinda hard. If there was ever a time for divine intervention I'm pretty sure it was then - the nurse calling my name right at that second. I kinda ran. I don't remember if I even said goodbye or anything. I was shocked and hurt. Not really by you - by circumstances. I know you're worried I was mad at you. I'm not. Hurt - but not because you are expecting a baby or I wouldn't want to see your pictures. I just suddenly realized I should be 19 weeks right now. And I'm not. There's no ultrasound pictures for me. No tiny flutters. The fact that I even had to be at the doctor trying to find out why I am still hurting so much from the d&c almost 2 months ago is awful. I didn't think I would run into anyone I knew, much less someone I knew due the same time I was. The doctor didn't find any reasons I should still be hurting, but I am. She said it could be a form of depression. It was not a particularly cheerful morning for me at the doctor's office.

I know you don't understand my struggles right now. It's not often we truly can understand another human beings struggles. That's what our Savior is for. He understands everything. And He will make it so all our pain is gone. You reminded me of that when you texted me today apologizing for being foolish. I didn't feel like you were foolish at all. You don't understand. And truthfully, I'm grateful you don't understand. It means you've never had this struggle. I hope you never do.

A friend and I were recently talking about when you lose a child you become part of a club. A horrible club that no one ever really wants to be a part of. As much as I wish that there wasn't a club, I find myself equally grateful that there are people out there who do understand. Oh, they don't truly know how I'm feeling, none of them are me. Even my dear husband who has been with me every step of the way doesn't truly understand MY pain. The Savior is the only one who can truly understand exactly how I feel. I don't know how he does it. But that is the promise and I believe it. I have good friends who know instantly when I say "I am sad today" that I mean far more than what I just said. Sometimes I need people who understand on that level. I cannot even express how much I love those friends I have made who understand. We hope and pray that no one else will have to join our club. But people keep joining the club. And when they do we open our arms for them and we cry. We hold them and cry for them, we cry for us, too. We cry because sometimes life is hard and we understand on a totally different level than a lot of people. I suppose there are clubs for every kind of trial we go through. If we are willing to open up to others we find there are others in the same club. Others who open their arms and share with us our burdens. It doesn't mean the burdens are gone, not by a long shot. But it does help ease the burdens to have someone willing to share it with us.

You've probably seen me posting pictures of flowers like crazy lately. That's what I get to share about my babies. I know there are people who think it's kind of weird, but that's the way I get to share my babies that aren't on earth. I try to keep Facebook pretty positive, but I can't ignore the fact that they are my kids, even if the world can't see them. They are mine, and I happily post pictures of them. I have a miniature rose for each of my kids. This is the first time this summer they've all had blossoms at the same time. So I braved a hail storm to rescue these 5 flowers. Yeah, I may be a little crazy...but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And my husband got a kick out of it, too.


Please don't be upset if I don't take you up on your offer to come hold your new baby in February. I don't really know how I will be feeling then - but I imagine it will be rough. I may not feel like I can bring my sadness to your house - I truly wouldn't want to take away from the joys of having a new baby in your home. There is something special about holding new babies. I got to hold two last week, my niece and my cousin's baby. And I truly loved both times. But neither time really made my heart hurt any less for my own missing babies. And sometimes, I am totally ok. I was this morning, even. But sometimes it hits hard and suddenly I feel like there's nothing I can do except cry. Grief is a funny thing that way. It's a roller coaster. Sometimes you get lulled into a false sense of security thinking you're doing ok - then suddenly your whole world is upside down and you might not even be sure how you got there. That's what happened this morning. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable or upset. I truly wasn't angry with you at all. I just got caught a bit off guard. I hope you had a great time getting to see pictures of your baby. Those 4D ultrasounds are so cool, aren't they?

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