I’ve been working hard to create a podcast sharing stories of families who have lost children in pregnancy and/or infancy. It has been such an honor to meet (virtually) with moms who are so open, honest, and vulnerable. They are strong and courageous. They are fearless. They are mourning. They share with us their tears and heartache. I consider it a true honor when they share such important and beautiful pieces of their heart.
Then it hit me. I met with three moms in one week. Gosh they were amazing. Every day I found myself beaming with gratitude for the openness of these parents. It was Thursday when I talked to my friend Sarah as she shared about pregnancy after loss. She’s also a pastor and gives so freely of herself. I closed out the zoom application, took out my headphones and began to weep. I resonated so much with her and the other moms I had met with in such a short period of time. Here I was 32 weeks pregnant with a healthy bundle of love and it didn’t matter. I missed my Sweet Pea. I found myself slumped over on the couch as I grabbed my handkerchief, wiped my eyes, and blew my nose. I went into the kitchen to start making dinner and continued to cry. The tears didn’t stop as I chopped vegetables, turned on the stove, and got out spices. This is my life now. I had gone a few months without crying. I thought about my first baby every day, but hadn’t cried. This day was different. I put on “Held” by Natalie Grant and let the tears flow.
James got home from work and my eyes were still puffy. Concerned, he asked what was wrong. “I just miss our sweet pea.” He nodded in understanding. Nobody could understand better than him. He finished cooking for us and we chatted about our first little one. I couldn’t believe it had been so long since I had cried. I’m not one to hold back tears, so it could be that this was part of my healing. It could also be that these incredible parents were giving me permission to dive even deeper into my feels and allow myself to be hit with emotion. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that.
I’m so grateful for the ways God has been able to use me to connect parents experiencing the unthinkable. It has been healing and has aided me in synthesizing my own emotions. When this wave of emotions hit me I had to remember that I am not invincible. I have not, and will not EVER “get over it.” I will cry about our Sweet Pea off and on for the rest of my life. I just have to be sure to allow myself to feel. When this wave of emotions came upon me I canceled my next two zoom conversations with super moms and just sat. Sometimes thats what you have to do “when it hits you.”