** Sorry for the dramatic title. I’ve been told by certain sisters of mine that I’m a dramatic person. I don’t think it was meant as a compliment. **
Well, we might as well start with the elephant in the room. (The elephant in my head, at least.) This year saw a moment of great joy as we expected our first child, followed all too quickly by conflicted disappointment at the miscarriage. I wrote more about my immediate thoughts here.
Time has passed since then and each month carries a tiny “what if?” voice in my head. Then like clockwork I wake up one morning to an indisputable, “Nope! Not this month.” Sigh.
I considered skipping this event in my year during my 31 Days of Glancing Back and Leaning Forward series. But this week I was caught off guard as I glanced at my calendar and saw an old event that I’d forgotten to delete. “Estimated Date.” After a few moments wondering what I meant by that and hoping I wasn’t missing an important client meeting or something, it dawned on me.
Today would have been my due date.
For us, there was never a deep prolonged mourning or even this dramatic sense of death or bemoaning. But for me, my sadness takes other forms. It surprises me. Like unexpected moments glancing at a young mom walking into Starbucks with 3 little ones in tow and I’m struck by a rogue thought “Oh, sure. Like she really needs 3 of them.”
If indulged too long, the unkind thoughts gives way to a short personal fantasy in which she walks up to me, hands me the youngest one and says, “Here, you can have this one.” I clap my hands in joy like I just received a birthday present.
I’m weird, I know.
Or the moment I hear of an adoption, or see an ultrasound posted on Facebook, or a million “First Day of School” photos. Gag.
Don’t get me wrong. Your kids are cute and say the darndest things, I get it. I’m just having a bit of a personal pity party.
(Side note: None of this applies to hearing about my perfect little nephews. There are not enough photos or cute saying in the world that would stop me from wanting to eat them up!)
But pity never got me anywhere. It’s more like a rock tied around my neck.
Lately, inside my spirit I have been hearing the voice of the Lord challenging my disposition towards discontentment. (And if the voice of the Lord is too subtle, there is always the voice of my husband to keep me on the straight and narrow.)
A discontented heart opens the door to a bitter spirit.
Oh Lord, let it never be said of me.
Give me eyes to see with joy what is, not simply what isn’t.
Like Ann Voskamp’s list making in One Thousand Gifts, here’s the truth.
The truth is I have a very loving husband in my life to nurture. I have a beautiful home to rest within. I have the deep affection and comfort of the Holy Spirit. I have a business in my hands that I enjoy building. I have family that I love. Oh, and I have two precious little birdies that make me smile. No room for a bitter spirit here!
One more thing…
Since this is my month of personal reflection, would you indulge me? Can I talk about my kid like a proud momma for just one second?
Here she is! Isn’t she cute? Why do I say “she?” I have no way to know, but I secretly think it was a girl. Maybe that’s because I have 4 nephews and no nieces!
The nurse said she looked like she was holding a basketball in this one. Must be Courtney’s kid. 🙂
The day of the miscarriage, I looked down and saw a single azalea bloom on the ground. For some unexplained reason I picked it up and carried it around all day. It was so beautiful in my hand, so radiant, bright and smiling. But like azaleas do, it quickly began to wither and become translucent, a picture of what was happening to me. I don’t know why I kept this blossom. I never told anyone, I just kept it.
I’ll meet her (or him) one day. Until then, I choose joy and contentment, no matter the size of my family.
Oh, and thank you, Little One, for the flower. Your mamma loves you and she’s doing ok.
This post is part of my series 31 Days of Glancing Back and Leaning Forward: Personal reflections and life lessons from my year.
To see the rest of the posts in this series, please click here.
To follow this series by email, please click here to enter your email address.
It is pure joy to me knowing you are reading what I am writing. Thank you.
11 thoughts on “Mourning the Invisible (or Fantasizing about Stealing Your Children)”
Your little one is a cutie! 🙂 She will always be in your heart, because she is always your child. You do have a wonderful family, thanks for sharing your heart and reminding us all of the blessings we have and the reasons not to dwell on what is not right now.
Looking forward to the rest of this month!
Sure, you have your dramatic moments, but it wouldn’t be fun without them! 😉
Somehow you always put beautiful insight and substance behind topics that I struggle to process. You did it again today, well done. Oh and yes there are just never enough pictures/posts of our adorable nephews! For some reason they are exempt from all eye rolling 🙂
Daisy, I’m glad to be able to put some words to it for us, in just a small way.
Beautifully written KK !
I will keep in mind that I need to be grateful for what I have, not whine about what I don’t have (you know… my own appartment and a husband ^_^). And I loved your baby’s pictures and your comments about the sex and the basketball. I can’t wait to read all your post. A whole month with KK, what a treat !
Frieda I actually reminded myself last week of being in your shoes wondering if I’d ever marry, and seeing how I was sustained in my singleness and then sustained in my marriage I’m learning that in whatever season I am in, I will be sustained. Bon courage!
It is always refreshing to read your posts and keep perspective. I have been guilty of calling you dramatic, but I mean that in a positive way. 🙂
Although I can’t personally relate or truly understand what your loss is like, I think about it almost daily as I struggle with life’s tough questions of “why” and “it’s not fair.” Great post.
And I’m glad you like all my pictures of the boys, they certainly are characters!
Your boys can do no wrong. 😉 I really am doing my best to catch up with you – you shouldn’t have to grow this family alone!
I’ve never had a miscarriage or anything (although I am my moms first living child after 3 miscarriages). But I can totally relate on the “all the pregnant people on facebook posts.” As a single girl that feels TOO OLD to be single it sucks sometimes. I want to be happy for them but sometimes it’s just hard….I want nothing more than to have a million kids and I have no idea when and if that will ever happen 🙁
I’ve been thinking of this post for many days now and I wanted to tell you what it has done for me. I’m sure you feel a bit like Ruth starting out of the road home with Naomi, not sure what the future holds. I pray that the Lord will give you a peace in this time of waiting. Your post really convicted me of my own attitude lately with my kids. I find myself reflecting back when I had the time and freedom to do as I wanted. Thank you for reminding me that even though I’m tired, frustrated, and most likely in need of a shower that this was and is the desire of my heart.
This one….a most beautiful post. Keeping us all balanced with a healthy perspective. It’s fairly easy for us to show concern and love in a time like this and still not REALLY feel it or hear how a mama’s heart bleeds. You have shown others the way through this valley with your articulate yet delicate words. Thank you for being transparent and vulnerable with your pain and your journey. Though it might not seem beautiful to you right now, I so clearly see this thread with rich hue and unique color and it’s sewing you deeper into the fabric of God and it’s extraordinary to behold.
…and I’m sure some of us wouldn’t mind if you stole one or two of our children…….depending on the day, of course.
OK so I reread your post. Why…because you inspire me. I can’t remember when I have read words so impactful that they cut straight to the heart. You are a woman of courage, compassion, and desire. That, my friend, is a GREAT woman.