Friends, this road is so long and so hard. Grieving seems to have a time and season of it's own. Some days are good - - really, really good. And some days are hard - - really, really hard. Mothers Day hurt this year. Today hurt. Tonight hurts.
Today my heart aches for my friend Celia. Today I carry her heartache and my own. She gave birth to Noah on Mothers Day, born with anencephaly, as Isaac was. Noah has entered this world, and slipped onto the next. In part, this is an update I read tonight, written by Celia's husband:
"Today was another hard part of Noah's Journey. I carried Little Noah to the funeral home. My heart broke as I pulled little Noah from Celia's arms and carried him on the last part of his journey... My tears soaked his little face as I held him close."
My heart aches for that sweet family, and my heart aches for myself. I remember watching the clock after Isaac was born and then died. I watched the clock as I knew 24 hours later, I would have to call the mortuary. I stayed up with Isaac all night, as did Andrew. I did my best to not nod off, even though I was delirious from exhaustion. I would catch myself sleeping and rub my face to wake myself up. I would shake my head and stretch my arms. I knew I needed to spend each minute with my baby. I knew the minutes would fly by, and I knew the time to say goodbye was drawing close. I knew the time I had would never be enough. It wasn't. Is still isn't. As the night turned into morning, Andrew called the funeral home. Some one was dispatched to the hospital. A kind man walked in, and I began to sob. I asked the man if I had to give him the baby, and he said that I did. I kissed Isaac over and over again, and handed him to Andrew, and looked away as he carried him out the door. I held myself and rocked and stared ahead blankly. The man passed by the door way with Isaac, and I laid back on my pillow and fell asleep. Now was the time to sleep. Now was the time to sleep and dream of my son that had just been taken from my arms. Now was the time to sleep and pretend none of what had just passed had never happened.
Stop by and offer Celia and her sweet family words of comfort. Do it for me. And for her. Tell her I sent you so that she knows that I love her.
19 comments:
Tears streaming down my face. I know there isn't anything I can say, but want you to know that I just ache for you.
I love your writing though. And I'm glad you're writing it all.
I am crying too!
Crying for Celia, for you, for me, for every mother who has had to hand over her baby to a funeral home worker.....Not fair!!!!
That was by far the worst part for me....I wanted to tackle that man from the funeral home and take my baby back... :(
((hugs))
I understand how difficult Mother's Day was. I had to keep myself very busy that day in order to keep from repeating the day before when I had lots of tears. It didn't help. Once I was no longer busy, it was too much to bear. I ended up cuddling up with the Lamb the hospital gave me at her birth and crying myself to sleep.
I can't wait until the day I can see my baby girl again. Alive and well. There will be no other comparable reunion in Heaven as those of parents and their sleeping children. Second only to the reunion between God, Jesus, and Us.
*hugs*
How hard that is for me to read. it brings tears to my eyes and takes me back to the days when Holly and the rest of us had to say our goodbyes to Carleigh. It is still ever so fresh in my mind. It is true you have good days and then slip back to a bad one and that is where we are at but, Prayer is where I find my solace and grateful for it. You are in my prayers that each new day gives you more peace and comfort.
Linda
You're right Misty...some days are really good and some days are really bad. You can't really predict them (unless of course you know a holiday like Mother's Day is approaching). My heart is aching too for her...
This is one of those times when there just aren't words to express my heart...so I'll simply say I love you and hope that all that is in my heart will somehow travel the miles and rest in yours.
My heart just breaks for you. I'm praying for your strength each and every single day. God bless
Only tears right now, as I know all too well what this family is facing.
Thank you for passing us in Celia's direction... I am off to her now.
I have no words. Just tears and prayers and love, lots of love.
I can't barely see the screen for my tears. For both of you.
My heart aches for you both though I know my ache is but a fraction of yours.
Big hugs to you, my dear friend. You are such a pure heart to think of others when you are facing your own grief. As always, you are an inspiration to me.
I want to thank you for writing with such sincerity and honesty. Reading your posts is part of the healing that the Lord has given me regarding the loss of my own baby.
As I read your raw emotions, I often weep and remember my own- it helps to relate to another.
Thank you for you love and care for those of us who suffer from the loss of a child- I pray God will bless you today.
Praying for you as I pray for Celia. This is just so hard to understand and my heart hurts for you both. I will be praying for both of you for as long as you need. Asking God to comfort your hearts as only He can.
Love and Hugs, Laurie
{{{{Misty}}}}
{{{{Celia}}}}
Hugs are the only way I would know to help you. Words won't take away your pain, but a hug will allow me to share it with you.
Hugs. Love. Prayers. Kisses. Tears. For all of you.
Misty, I have thought of you each day, hoping to see an update on how you and your family are doing.... your strength inspires so many people, I hope your kids are doing ok.
Oh, I hurt for you. You have a gift of putting your hurt into words so others can understand just a bit of how you feel. Your spirit, your desire to help others, will turn that hurt into a strength. Thank you, again, for letting God use you.
Misty~
What an example you are to me. Heart aching and breaking and still you think of others. You are an example to all of us. Thank you for sharing your story with me...with us.
Much love~
Rebecca
I'm glad you're writing about it. It is an important step in the healing process. Not that you will ever fully heal.
None of this will ever make sense . . . which is why all I can do it give it up to Him . . . and my hearts to you, to her and her family.
God bless . . .
L
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