Emotional Hijack – jeannett gibson {infant loss/miscarriage}

As I brainstormed and mulled what I was going to do with my blog, I had the idea to feature bloggers who had dealt with infant loss or miscarriage.

There was no particular reason for this choice, except, most self serving, that it would be unfortunately easy to find people to write.

It seemed like everyone I knew had had a miscarriage, a still birth, or had a baby go home to Heaven too early.

In fact, I would have had a harder time naming people I knew who HADN’T gone through that sadness.

Because to be honest, sometimes I feel like I am surrounded by hurt and pain.

Not just my own…but there are weeks when it seems like every email, every phone call, every text is a story of tears.

And there are days I tell Andy:

“I’m seriously turning off my phone, shutting down the computer, crawling into a cave, and not speaking to another human being for 8 days because I can’t take the brokenness anymore!”

I had no idea I’d soon be able to be my own “guest” blogger.

With my last pregnancy, I was unusually apprehensive.

I was excited, but terrified to announce.

With the last two, we yelled it from the rooftops before we had set the test back down on the sink.

This time, I felt like maybe it was my turn.

Certainly I couldn’t go through this unscathed.

Surely, it was some awful rite of passage…right?

I shook it off.

Told the world.

Bought a tiny stocking.

Told Henry about the baby in mama’s belly.

Planned around due dates.

#4 was on its way and we were thrilled.

And then the baby died inside.

And the tears and sadness and sheer pain was like nothing I had anticipated.

The mourning was deep and real.

The grief palpable.

My heart broke into two and I immediately wanted nothing more but to hug all of my girlfriends.

All of the women who have gone through this…all of my sweet sisters who were now a part of this wretched, ugly club.

The most crippling part of the experience so far has been the way my emotions hijack me.

I’m fine.  Truly.

I go about my day.  All is well.  Days, even weeks without a tear.

I can even talk about it calmly and without welling up.

I’m good.

No problem.

And then…out of the blue…suddenly and without warning, a pang of pain so real and true will hit me like a freight train I never saw coming.

Just when I thought I had it all under control.

It’s not the obvious: seeing pregnant women, belly pictures of sweet friends swollen with their own bundle, snuggling newly born babes…

all of that, in fact, makes my heart swell.

Seeing two pink lines for a friend, a tummy extended, the squishy wrinkly 2 week old skin…

Pure joy.

Genuinely over the moon happy that they are not in this crazy mixed up reality of being a mama to 4, but with only 3 to show for.

It’s the unexpected grief that always surprises.

Planning for a summer trip to the lake that I wasn’t going to go to…because I would be much too pregnant.

Remembering that I packed away the tiny stocking and knowing that opening Christmas boxes will be like scratching the scab off a freshly healing wound.

Christmas.  As a whole.  Christmas sounds really miserable.

Preparing to speak at Blog Sugar in September…and realizing that I should have had a tiny babe snuggled tightly in a Moby as I share my bloggy heart.

Giggling with the three.

Finding Jilly’s shirt…the one that says “Big Sister”.

This summer.  In general.  When I should have been big as a house, aching, toes like sausages, and back throbbing…instead plans are being made, life goes on, as if nothing ever happened.

A little life erased.

Gone before I could ever trace the contours of soft cheeks and button nose.

“Mommy, I can jump by your belly now!  It’s okay Mommy…the baby died and is in Heaven so it won’t hurt if I jump on you.”

“Mama, can the baby come back from Jesus?”  “No son, it can’t.”  “That’s so sad mama.”

And then I move on with life, and everything is back to normal and I laugh and I yell and I do laundry.

Always laundry.

And I’ll be folding some indescriminate pair of pants and I’ll remember the comment:

“I still remember mine 22 years ago.”

I know I will never forget.

I don’t want to forget.

But it’s so hard to remember too.

And even through all of this, my heart just about falls out of my chest when I think about mama’s who held their bundles and had to say goodbye anyway.

Selecting the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep Foundation was a no brainer.

A free service to mourning parents of teeny tiny babes…professional, incredible, amazing, belongs on an art gallery wall, photography of their little.

A way to remember.

Something to look at and smile.

NILMDTS is free to families, but certainly not free to run.

Please consider donating…$1?…$5…to support a service that helps families in a tangible way.

{images from the NILMDTS website.}

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jeannett

I'm a mom to four. A wife to one. I believe in story. I love telling you about mine and would love to hear yours. There's really no sense in wasting our suffering and not sharing in each other's joy. We're all in this together...even if it doesn't always feel like it.

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