Friday, March 30, 2012

Mixed Up


The past few weeks have been very strange.  I haven't been as anxious about this new pregnancy, which is good, but I wonder if that's only because my brain has been occupied with other stressful things, like drama with our dogs, dealing with intense stuff from the past in therapy, and the Best Husband Ever being sick with a long stomach flu.  Even with the stress, though, I like how fast the days have been going, because that means that I am living a little bit more, instead of waiting for each agonizing hour to crawl by, bringing me closer to my next O.B. appointment.

But I have been concerned about my emotions.  Soon after finding out that I was pregnant a second time, my emotions seemed to turn off.  I have felt predominantly numb.  That is why I haven't been blogging as much, I think -- I just don't know what to make of this numbness.

I can understand why I would feel numb.  Perhaps its my brain trying to protect me from further trauma.  It makes sense, I suppose.

But I don't like it.  Because I am afraid of blocking emotions -- especially grief.  I haven't been able to grieve very much for my daughter, my precious, irreplaceable Eve, since becoming pregnant with her younger sibling.  And that's been hard, because I want to grieve.  It is healthy, and she is worth it.  It's the only kind of parenting I can do for her now.

Yesterday, a sweet friend asked me how I have been feeling about Eve.  I told her all of this --  how confusing pregnancy soon after a loss is, and how numb I feel, how unsure.  I felt sad that I couldn't tell her something more, something better, although I'm not sure what that would be.

But her asking seemed to do something.  It seemed to open the door to the grief, if only a little.  Later that day, still wondering about how I was feeling regarding Eve, I realized -- I felt sad.  Sad!  After weeks of alternating anxiety and numbness!  I can't tell you how good it felt, how reassuring, to grieve my daughter again.  I curled up on the couch and let myself be sad, talking to God and talking to her.

Grieving is healthy.  Grieving after a loss is necessary.  And since my daughter is dead, I want to grieve.  Let me grieve, Lord. 

I realized something else, too.  Since becoming pregnant, so many kind and supportive people have been checking up on me, asking how things are going with precious Baby #2.  But this is the first time in weeks that someone has asked me about Eve.

And it felt so good, to have her be remembered, to be talked about.

I wish it would happen more often.

I can't force that to happen.  I don't know if I even want to wish for it, because I don't want to be disappointed.  I'm trying to not think so much about Mother's Day for the same reason -- because I am afraid that people will forget that I am a mother, twice over now, and that I will hurt.

And I can't blame them, really, because sometimes it's too easy for me to focus only on this coming baby, not the one that already lived out her days.  Lately I have been marveling over the fact that we have a daughter, and that she died.  It seems so impossible.

But I will hold tight to the times that people are brave enough to talk about Eve.  To cherish the memory of one of my most precious loved ones.  To celebrate her life and mourn her death.

I will savor those times when Eve is remembered, is talked about, is honored in prayer in my hearing.  They are a balm to my soul, especially on days like this one, when I feel so mixed up.

Eve's butterfly


  1. i think about you and your daughter often, she was such a gift

  2. Thank you, Dana. <3

  3. I think I feel somewhat the same way. I don't know if I'm 'numbing' myself or blocking, or just that I have more happiness in this new pregnancy, but I too feel very much the same about wanting and needing to grieve regularly (enough) for Sebastian. As you said, that's all we can do as a mother now (and that sucks).
    Hugs xx

  4. It does suck. But I want to do it, for me, and for her. And you for Sebby. And for our rainbows, because they will feel it if we don't. This certainly is a strange ride we're on, friend.


"I am glad you are here with me."
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King