Sunday, June 17, 2012



Isn't grief supposed to be healing?  Shouldn't every tear shed, every day endured be a step closer to the broken being put back together?

It doesn't feel like that.  Instead, each day seems to shred my seams a little more.  I am unraveling.

I'm sure that some of that is to do with pregnancy.  Hormones and fear -- the mind-bending companions of a rainbow pregnancy.

A friend asked me this past week if the pregnancy has been getting easier.

I think I laughed.

It's true that I feel much better now than I did in the early weeks of this pregnancy.  That was a dark, soul-crushing time that I am not eager to relive anytime soon.  Now, at least, I have baby kicks and a baby belly.  Then, all I had was the fear.

But the days seem to be turning dark again.  31 weeks -- the gestation that Eve died at -- is fast approaching, and I am daily refilled with dread.

I don't know how I will survive that time, just two months away now.  I don't know how I will endure the times when this sweet boy growing inside me is not kicking, knowing what not-kicking can mean.

I don't want to go there.  But I know that I have to, if I want to hold a living baby in my arms.

Still, I am terrified.

And sad.  So sad.  The tears come without warning, without reason.  Although don't I have reason enough?  My daughter is dead, and who knows if my son will join her before my life is run?

But when the tears come now, I am not thinking about anything particularly sad.  They just come, racing down my cheeks at the strangest times, and I am reminded -- my life is not what it once was.

Yesterday, I cried when I spilled bean salad all over our kitchen floor.  I cried when I got the time wrong for an online artsy chat and missed it.  I cried when I went for a walk.  I cried while I sat in our church folding bulletins.  I cried as I bought cereal at the grocery store, and as I drove home.  I cried in my husband's arms.  I cried when I went to bed. 

It is a strange thing, to be crying for your dead child while your living one is kicking away within you.

Life is fragile, and achingly precious.  I have learned this the hard way, and perhaps that is why I cry.

I miss my daughter.  I am so excited to meet our son.  I am grateful for both of our children, and I would not wish their lives away to skip this pain.

But this pregnancy, it is hard.  I am unraveling.  The only thing I am left to do is to pray that God is letting this happen so He can weave me into something better than I was. 


  1. Oh, mama. I wish, so badly, that I could help.

  2. I am right there with you in every emotion (except for the being pregnant right now part). This is so hard, isn't it. Talking with you the other day was like the calm in the middle of the storm. So glad to know we're not alone in this. Although I wouldn't wish this on anyone. You know what I mean. :-0


    1. Totally know what you mean. And our hanging out was a great calm for me, too. Hugs.

  3. Beth I can not imagine all that you are feeling. Please know I am praying for you as you approach 31 weeks. You will make it through my friend one day at a day.

  4. Just got done praying for you. You are a blessing to me! Just found out Wednesday I am pregnant with rainbow baby. I am a mess...cried a lot yesterday with you apparently. :) I love your realness intertwined with your faith in the Lord. Thanks so much for sharing today.

    1. Oh Stephanie, what exciting, terrifying news!! I am praying for you, too, and your family as you begin this new chapter in the journey. And thank you so much for your prayers. Big hugs.

  5. Here's hoping your art and faith can get you through to the 31 weeks and beyond.

  6. God... and your daughter want to see you smile!

    It can't rain forever.


  7. i think sometimes we just have to accept all the emotions we go through and offer it up to the Lord. a year after my husband's death, i was dismayed to find myself still grieving. i thought that after a year of first Christmas without him, first this and first that, it would get easier. but then i realized that there's no deadline for feeling healed and i just had to go through the dark valley. what helped me a lot was finding a bible verse for my situation and memorizing it and repeating it until i believed it. God's grace, it will get you through! sending you hugs and blessings and prayers.


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