The infinite sadness of the past week seems to have now been replaced by a vast and frightening emptiness. I am working hard to keep my head above water, but in my mind I am running a non-stop loop of the events of the past two weeks. Looking back, seeing all that led up to the moment late Monday night when I delivered a 3-ounce baby who had already left us, it now seems like, through that week, we were all caught on a runaway freight train that was rushing us into the awful despair that followed. As it happened, of course, we had no idea of what was coming. And it all seemed to happen in slow-motion at the time, though now I see it differently. Life, after all, can turn on a dime.
I am hoping to put pen to paper (or, in this case, fingers to keyboard) so that I can record my memory of that awful week, hoping that if I write it all down, that I will cease to replay everything over and over and over again. This may not be the appropriate forum for it, but it is all I have. The easy happiness and the flippant attitude with which I wrote previously in this blog is now gone. The Before Sarah is a completely different person from the unrecognizable After Sarah that I have become, at least temporarily.
We are no longer the caricatures that I wrote about before. The Southern Foodie, The Carnivore and The Odd Toddler are now simply Sarah, Preston and Ray. Reality just doesn't allow for humor right now.
I used to say that nothing bad ever happens to me. I sincerely miss the old me, the one who believed that would always remain true. I know now that the worst can happen, and it can come out of nowhere. If I do this right, I will come through on the other side without this current abiding fear that the worst can happen again.
I am having a hard time finding God right now, and God's comfort is completely elusive. I forget to pray. I forget to eat. This morning, I realized I had forgotten to breathe for a moment. I appreciate everyone's prayers, and we continue to need them desperately.
5 comments:
that's what your family is for...to breath for you when breathing just seems too hard. i love you, yolie
Praying for you and grieving along with you. Call if I can do anything at all.
Tina
Sarah...I am so sorry for this loss in your lives. I want you to take heart that you will one day come out on the other side of this intense grief. You will be a different person than you are in these dark, empty days. It's very true that you won't be the old Sarah. You won't always be this lost Sarah, but a different Sarah you don't quite know yet. Though you will recognize somethings about her, she will have some new perspectives on life and loss and eternity. You're just beginning to discover who that Sarah will be, in light of the grief that has come into your hearts. From someplace in the future, you'll look back and know for certain that God has indeed been with you and Preston and Ray and your family. The time that takes is totally for you and Preston to decide, not someone else's theory on how people should grieve. That timeframe is very personal. I know these things are true. The details of my miscarriage are different, but I am here to assure you that one day, you will be a whole Sarah again. Keep writing. Do some special things in memory of your baby. Take care.
Nancy from Iowa
I too know the pain and heartache you are experiencing, having lost four children at various stages of my pregnancies. It is an emotional challenge unlike any other. While you feel lost and alone and confused as to the "why" of it all, you do emerge stronger, more faithful, and, sadly, wiser. Bailey will always be with you, Preston and Ray; you will feel his presence beside you at times, comforting you, laughing with you, and loving you. I will keep you all in my prayers.
Hindsight is always 20/20. Someday this time in your life will make more sense. For now just rely on your family that loves you so much, act on faith and not emotion and know that you are being prayed for continually. Hugs to you, Preston and Ray.
Paula
Post a Comment