Izaih got his tooth out! He did so well, too! He was very excited that it didn't hurt anymore. As soon as we got home and he looked in the mirror, though, he sobbed like a baby about how he wants his tooth back:( Poor baby.
He told me he wants a brother for Christmas. It made me sad all over again. I've been toying with whether or not to make the story "public", especially with the insensitivity of some who may read this blog. HOWEVER, this is MY blog and I feel it's important to say things, even hard things. It's therapeutic for me, and good for people to realize they are not alone if they've struggled with something similar. A few weeks ago I watched the “cardboard testimonies” on a friend’s page. If you haven’t heard of them, I highly recommend that you watch them on youtube. I have been thinking about it since, and contemplating what my testimony would say. There are so many things, so many stories, so much ugliness to my life. The only thing that could fit to sum it up would say “DISASTER”. Or maybe “SHAME”. I’ve had some time to think since having this newfound free time. I’ve had time to grieve things that I pushed away for so long. I've been working really hard to be open, honest, and transparent.
When I watched the cardboard testimonies, there were so many things others were dealing with that I too, have dealt with or am dealing with now. Some of those things are things I have not shared, and have barely admitted to myself. Yet these people not only had the courage to share it, but they also shared how God brought them through it. It is so hard for me to share. At times I would rather just be completely misunderstood than to make myself that vulnerable to people’s judgment. At least then people’s judgment would be based on what they thought I was rather than on the truth of what I really am.
I guess what my cardboard would say right now is “Grief over loss of child.” The long version would go like this:
Right now I should be holding a beautiful baby in my arms. It had been a very long couple of months for us. As usual, I had a crazy schedule and Mark and I had our hands in a lot of different things. We had been struggling with some really hard things for a long time, and things were finally looking up. However, we also felt convicted to make some really hard decisions about some things we we were involved with, which led to drama....lots and lots of drama. We were drained. We had just decided to bring Izaih into our home, and were trying to work out all the details.
That night I was pregnant, hormonal, and bored…a bad combination. I sat down to fill out a survey, the kind that everyone sends you on facebook and myspace. This particular time the survey rules were to write down 25 things that you wish you could say to someone but can’t. Normally, I say whatever needs to be said straight to a person’s face. But sometimes I don’t, and SHOULDN’T. That night, however, I was feeling feisty and very sick from the morning sickness (although it was not morning), which only fueled my irrationality. I wrote down the 25 things, some being very nice, some of them coming clean from secrets I’d kept, some random thoughts, and a few things that were either downright nasty or would have hurt someone had they known it was being said about them.
My siblings and close friends tease me for being blunt and honest, and for speaking up about things that people are uncomfortable with. So I tagged them in the facebook note, thinking they would get a kick out of my honesty. Then I thought I would tag the people I had written nice things about. After that, I thought I’d be really gutsy and tag the people in whom my secret confession comments were for. I went back and counted….1,2,3….27 people were tagged. Perfect! Now no one would know whether one of the 25 comments was for them or not, and they would be freaking out trying to figure out which one was for them. I went back and changed some of the wording so that some of the comments would be very vague. “You are one of the most beautiful people I know,” and “Sometimes I feel like you’re being selfish”, could not be traced to anyone. I just KNEW my friends would think it was hilarious and think it genius!! Since the people I wrote some of the meaner, or more bold comments for were not on facebook, or were not my friend on facebook, I thought it was the perfect way to get those things off my chest without actually saying it to the people or anyone else knowing who I was talking about. Therapeutic, I thought. I couldn’t wait to have everyone stumped on which comment they thought was meant for them. Surely they would all think the nicest one was about them. I thought it was soooo funny.
Looking back, that was not funny at all. That was irrational. That was me being moody and pregnant and not thinking very clearly. Not that that makes it okay, but my thought process was a bit out of whack on that idea. I had NO idea that anyone could get their feelings hurt or assume I wrote something mean about them. After all, I thought, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to tag someone I wrote something mean about.
Well people did get their feelings hurt. They assumed that comments made for someone else (who weren’t even on facebook and therefore would never know I said it, and no one else would know who it was said about) were actually for them. Obviously. Horrible things were said to me, and hurtful judgments from people ensued. Some of the most hurtful things you can imagine were said and gossiped to others. I was initially very angry that my genius, fun little game was misconstrued. I had no idea what to say or do to fix it. I took the note off of facebook, and I tried apologizing repeatedly, only to be talked down to and chastised again and again. I found out about people going and “enlightening others” on what I had said about them on facebook. How do you know who I said that about?! How come you’re telling everyone about my mistake (and adding your own exaggerations to it), making everyone else mad at me after I’ve apologized over and over?! I was so upset and overwhelmed that I was literally sick. I HATE making anyone mad at me or hurting anyone’s feelings. I couldn’t sleep, and I was unbelievably upset at a few people who kept calling to go off on me. I was so stressed out over it, and certain people were antagonizing the situation for all it was worth. Then I had the miscarriage.
I didn’t know what to do or how to feel. It was all just too overwhelming. My friends said, “It’s just your body’s way of telling you you’re not ready for a child right now,” or “Your body can’t handle all that stress without something giving somewhere.” I tried my best to forget about the baby, and looked at it as just something that didn’t work out. I knew that eventually the grief would catch up to me, and it did. The anger was what I didn’t expect. No matter what the reason for the miscarriage was, I have deep down blamed the people who caused me the most stress, and ultimately myself.
Now I feel the full weight (at least I hope this is the full weight…I can’t bear any more…) of my grief over this tiny person that will never be. Some nights I dream of our baby and can see her sweet little face….I just know that she would be perfect. Some mornings I imagine what her cry would sound like, and wonder if she would have Mark’s smile. I never could bear to name her. No name could adequately describe how sweetly her voice would sound, or how much her daddy would have adored her. How many lives would she have touched? What was she supposed to be?
We will never know.
