Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Grief.


When the alarm went off this morning, before I even opened my eyes...I remembered. 
And that sucked.

To start a day with such an intense sadness is new to me. Yesterday, Tim went to work again and we began our "new life" with a "new routine." It didn't go so well. And I really don't expect it to for awhile either. 
While we were driving this weekend, lost in our own thoughts, I blurted out,
"It feels like we were almost winning the game, then we got dealt a card that said "Return to Start..."
It truly feels like we are starting over.

And then there is this feeling like we are suffocating from sheer grief...we just miss him so much that it feels like we can't breathe. And then other moments we are okay.

A roller coaster.
We stepped off one at the hospital and onto another the day Will died.

Tim read in some grievance book that described it as this...

"One is not suicidal, but you just feel like dying..."  Yup. That pretty much sums it up for me.

And as I cry and try to think back over everything that has happened since we moved here, I realized that I have mourned my baby not once, but twice. The first time, at 18 weeks, when the doctors said Will would miscarry at any time. We went through a grief process...and then it never happened. As the weeks went on, my hope built, especially in the hospital. I started to believe that the longer he went, the better chance we had. And when I saw Will, I really believed we were going to be blessed and he would pull through. 
Which now makes this grief even worse. Because for a few moments we could hold him, kiss him, talk to him, and watch him as he moved and kicked and was full of life. 
And then all of a sudden he wasn't.

And now I just don't understand why all this happened the way it did...And in my head, I look up to the heavens and scream...

"Just what do you want me to do with this, God?!?! 
What do you want me to do with this grief, this whole experience?"

It feels like a deep cut. On the outside, I'm sure with time people won't see the damage this cut has caused. I will always feel it.
However, the scar on my stomach will always be there, proof that he was here. 

And then there is this blog. Started to be a family update, which it will continue to be. But instead of documenting the progress of a baby, it will be documenting the process of our family's grief. From ultimate loss, sadness, and anger,...to hopefully acceptance, and eventually...maybe...the partial healing and renewed hope only a new life could bring. 

But we will never become fully healed from this grief. 
When Will died, a piece of Tim and I went with him. 
And even though I know I should be looking up, as our quote says at the top of this page...
I can't help but be looking back.

2 comments:

Beth Read said...

Julie and Tim, Our prayers continue as you work through this incredibly difficult time. It is so good that you can acknowledge the pain, anger, frustration, etc. that you are feeling. You are so right, you will never be the same....but it is my hope that you will always feel God's loving presence in your life.

The Davani Family said...

Oh Julie... my heart aches so terribly for you. Your post today just took my breath away -- I can't imagine the horrible pain you're going through. I'm just so incredibly sorry... Every day I read your post(s) and just keep praying in desperation that God will grant peace to you each and every minute as you make your way through each day! Please keep sharing as you're able and THANK YOU for letting us pray for you and Tim as you struggle through this terribly tough time.

Hugs - Hugs - Hugs

Diane