Exactly one year and six months ago (yesterday), my husband and I said hello and
then goodbye to our daughter, Eve. When the doctor told us that she’d
died inside of me, I didn’t see how I was going to survive her birth,
much less the days and weeks and months of life-without-her that lay
ahead.
In fact, I hoped that I wouldn’t survive.
In the day’s wait that lay between me and the induction that would bring Eve’s body into this world, whenever my benumbed mind managed to grasp at any shred of hope, it was that I would not survive to face her birth, her dead body, and whatever sort of life we could manage to patchwork together in the wake of such devastation.
I wanted to die. And continued to want to die for some time thereafter.
But I didn’t. Instead, I lived . . .
In fact, I hoped that I wouldn’t survive.
In the day’s wait that lay between me and the induction that would bring Eve’s body into this world, whenever my benumbed mind managed to grasp at any shred of hope, it was that I would not survive to face her birth, her dead body, and whatever sort of life we could manage to patchwork together in the wake of such devastation.
I wanted to die. And continued to want to die for some time thereafter.
But I didn’t. Instead, I lived . . .
Today I am writing over at Still Standing Magazine!
Beth, my heart hurt just reading of your pain and your longing. It's good to get the outside of yourself, not to have to let go of them necessarily but to maybe begin the process of it letting go of you. It is such a process of healing and you are doing awesome honey!
ReplyDeleteBeth, thank you for this very vulnerable post. I am praying that by the grace of God, that naming this struggle with fear and anxiety will bolster your strength to face it with courage, to learn even in your weaknesses the great strengths that are yours... Oh what I would do to crawl up on the couch with you and sip tea and tell you the strength I see in you in your words, the courage you have to speak hope to others who have lost, who need to see through the "holes" to find grace.. I will never understand why this had to be her story and yours, but I know her life and death has given birth to empathy and hope to so many others who needed you to bravely live and wrestle with them for life in this world uncertain except for One who died to give hope.
ReplyDeleteYour blog is new to me, Beth. I have just gone back and read some of your posts and feel the pain you have been through because you have been so descriptive and open and honest about it all. I agree with the prayer above by Dea that your strength will be bolstered. I haven't lost a child. I came very, very close to it and felt the fear and angst and sorrow for the weeks it took to stabilize him. My second one was Apgar 10, brilliant, talented, obedient, everything one would want. The first one is very attentive to us in our old age, calling almost every day. The daughter we hear from about 3 times a year and see every 3 or so years. The pain of "losing" an adult daughter is great, especially since we do not know why or what we have done.
ReplyDelete