A blessing and a curse.
Being a mom whom has endured loss is as much of a blessing at times, as it is a horrible every day reminder of darkness. Obviously, the bleakness of loss is a no brainer. Loss sucks. Plain ad simple. When it happens, it leaves this gaping hole within your soul that you feel will forever be there, aching and searing with pain. And in a way it is. It's always there. The difference is that instead of searing constantly, times of reprieve come and then more come until you're left with a hole...still always a hole...but instead of only feeling the pain, the bleakness...you start to feel love again, laughter again. You start to see light and hope. You loath death, but hold onto hope for life. You see, I miss my daughters every day. There's not one day that passes that I don't think of them. Not one. And though I miss them and long for them to be here, with their brothers, I am (as much as I can be) OK that they're waiting for me in Heaven. Of course some days are easier than others, but for the most part, my heart doesn't sear. My belly doesn't ache. My heart just isn't whole and with that, I'm missing them.
But then a day like today comes. Where I hear of a friends sister who has just delivered a baby, silently. That hole, sears again. More so with anger than from loss. Of course my heart aches for another family's loss. I know their pain too well. I know the devastation, the want to tear out my failing belly. It's a horrid feeling. But more so, just angered. And I no longer know who to even be angry at. I'm just angry. It's senseless. It's undeserving. It's a random draw of the cards. It just happens. It's a fluke. But how can death be a fluke. When it devastates so many, how can it be a fluke? And why does it persist? I'll never have the answers to these questions, nor will my anger even help anyone. But still. I'm angry and my heart sears for families going through this pain.
So what about the blessing? The blessing is two fold for me. First, I get to honor my daughters everyday with my loss site and I get to keep their memory alive as I, hopefully, help others grieve in whatever way they need to grieve. But also, I get to be the person that can help in a situation where so many have no idea what to do, where to go. For some reason, my daughters were taken from me and I'd like to think that maybe, just maybe, their life had purpose. And maybe their purpose was to prepare me, devastate me, break me and mold me back into what I could then be used for. To help. To help those going through a devastating loss.
I was reminded of that today, as my pain and my anger returned for another woman who has held her baby for the last time. Who was kissed her head and touched her skin. Who has smelled her hair and held her hand. All for the last time. I ache for your loss. My heart sears for your own pain. My body trembles with anger that another woman has to endure this loss. You are supported. You are loved. And you are being prayed for. Fervently.
But then a day like today comes. Where I hear of a friends sister who has just delivered a baby, silently. That hole, sears again. More so with anger than from loss. Of course my heart aches for another family's loss. I know their pain too well. I know the devastation, the want to tear out my failing belly. It's a horrid feeling. But more so, just angered. And I no longer know who to even be angry at. I'm just angry. It's senseless. It's undeserving. It's a random draw of the cards. It just happens. It's a fluke. But how can death be a fluke. When it devastates so many, how can it be a fluke? And why does it persist? I'll never have the answers to these questions, nor will my anger even help anyone. But still. I'm angry and my heart sears for families going through this pain.
So what about the blessing? The blessing is two fold for me. First, I get to honor my daughters everyday with my loss site and I get to keep their memory alive as I, hopefully, help others grieve in whatever way they need to grieve. But also, I get to be the person that can help in a situation where so many have no idea what to do, where to go. For some reason, my daughters were taken from me and I'd like to think that maybe, just maybe, their life had purpose. And maybe their purpose was to prepare me, devastate me, break me and mold me back into what I could then be used for. To help. To help those going through a devastating loss.
I was reminded of that today, as my pain and my anger returned for another woman who has held her baby for the last time. Who was kissed her head and touched her skin. Who has smelled her hair and held her hand. All for the last time. I ache for your loss. My heart sears for your own pain. My body trembles with anger that another woman has to endure this loss. You are supported. You are loved. And you are being prayed for. Fervently.
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