Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Enough Already

Des came running out of the post office after checking Rachel's PO BOX with an American Girl catalog in her hand.  She a little *too* into these catalogs, telling us of all her plans for how her collection will grow (on someone else's budget - my Dad's) and it gets old quick.  So, while I was excited for the smile on her face, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I needed to remind her that she not only does not need all of that stuff, but isn't getting it.

We got home and I checked the mail at our house.  Another catalog greeted me.  I tossed it on the table without thinking much and started dinner.

Des came in and said "why did I get two?"  I quickly responded, "You didn't, one is yours and one is Rachel's."

And then I realized that there is no Rachel here.

You know, I could write for years about my daily struggles to accept, deal with, live through, grow in and past the loss of my daughter - but if you haven't lost a child, you will never *truly* understand what I mean when I say this grief is the most complicated thing I have ever been through.

People have all sorts of answers, ideas, beliefs, suggestions, and even judgements for and about me...Whether going to the cemetery every week still is healthy or acceptable, how I walk my kids through this, how I never put Asa down or want to share him, how I fear losing him, how often I talk about Rachel, what I blog, how often I blog, how I "throw myself into these big projects to avoid my feelings"  (like my book or her race - as if I EVER avoid my feelings?) which by the way, I know I've even questioned this before, but really, these things are for her honor and HIS glory - and they hurt like hell.  It's impossible to avoid my feelings - for me anyway.  Maybe someone else could, but I can't and I don't.

But these are all parts of my grief journey.  It's more than meets the eye in any given circumstance - what I would have done BEFORE Rachel is not what I will do now - and please don't make that a matter of my faith being weak.  It's real life stuff here - not imagined in my head.  I'm a human with real feelings and God made me that way.  Her dying in my arms has changed how I see everything....and I'm ok with that.  And I bet if your baby or child died in your arms and you never saw them again here on earth, you'd understand why I do what I do.  (all baby loss Mamas are nodding right now)  This is how I'm healing - by allowing myself to be, feel, think, do whatever I need to do at any given moment.  By just accepting where I am instead of putting all these rules and regulations on what my life 'should' look like right now and what I 'should' be doing.  And that is different for all of us who have lost children, but we need to be allowed that space and freedom without judgement and condemnation.

I've gotten a lot 'better' at dealing with it - on the outside.  The two things I hate the most about myself are that I'm too open about my struggles and how that inevitably makes people want to fix me - and how I let peoples' words and attitudes affect me.  I've always been like this.  I wish I was the kind of person who could just let things roll off my back and if I didn't agree, just forget about it.  I wish I didn't internalize everything.  I wish I could just be ok with the fact that I know God is ok with how I'm handling things. That HE understands how complicated this is.  That it's never the people who really do 'get it' that push their advice on me. That I know God would let me know if He wanted me to do something different - and I know that I am willing to work towards anything He asks of me no matter how hard. 

But yesterday when the American Girl magazine came - and I heard myself say one was for Rachel - I looked at the cover and the red haired girl on the front had me in tears - because I always wondered if Rachel would have had red hair like Sam and because I would give anything to watch her play with dolls.... and in that moment, I knew that some people just don't get it.  And I'm glad they don't.  Even if it means I have to listen to tons of unsolicited advice from people who think they know what they would do if they were me. I guess we'll call that part of my trial.  Too bad I'm failing at this part - because in my heart I'm not surrendered to it - I just want it to stop.  I hurt enough already.


  1. I was nodding when you said, "all baby loss mamas are nodding their heads right now." And then I laughed because I realized I really was.

  2. Sending you hugs and love. I'm still here and praying for you daily.

  3. I'm not trying to offend anyone here, so please don't take it this way- but while reading this, I had a thought.
    "Normal" "common" people didn't (or still don't) get Einstein, or Martin Luther King, Or Nostradamus, or Galileo, or even God. They weren't prepared to accept or embrace... They weren't meant to.
    "Extraordinary" people get those things that are incomprehensible, intangible, and astounding. They open their minds and their hearts. They "get" that they don't have to touch, taste, see, hear, or smell something for it to be "real" and exist". They understand things aren't necessarily measured by tangibility. They take solace in the abstract, complex, and unthinkable because it doesn't have to be simple, and roses and balloons and parties to be real. It can be ugly and difficult, and still be real. "Extraordinary" people can take the complex and break it down into pure simplicity.
    Rachel, and her legacy, are complex and abstract. However, there are many of us who can break it down to be simple. Rachel is God's grace. Rachel is a reminder that there is beauty and love in all things incomprehensible.
    I don't pretend to understand what you're going through, nor do I pass judgment upon you because of your grief structure. I just couldn't ascribe what I would do onto you. It's not me, I haven't lived through it. I'm can't say with any amount of certainty that I would or would not carry on the way that you have. So I am of no position (and neither is anyone else for that matter) to pass judgment. We are all unique, and to assume that there is a "right" path for how you "should have" handled this loss is presumptuous, ignorant, and wrong.
    With that said, I return day after day to this blog, and I follow religiously. Not to see what you're doing now and go "hmm- I wouldn't do that" or "why is she doing that". I do it because I am in AWE. I can only hope that I would have as much grace, dedication, and devotion as you have shown us is possible.
    I also come here to be reminded- that we can find beauty and simplicity in the complex. Rachel isn't just a statistic. She is a human being with worth and a lesson. She can teach us all how to be better people.
    When I am not being the person that I have the capability to be, be it because of anger or stress, or whatever- I come to Rachel for understanding that I must rise above all that for the greater good.
    Rachel's Legacy- to me- is what it means to love wholly, unconditionally, and without fear. Rachel's Legacy means believing that the impossible is possible. Rachel's Legacy is about opening my mind, when I retreat into narrowminded-ness. Rachel's Legacy is about being a bigger person, a better person, in the face of incomprehensible, intangible, and complex.

    Thank you for allowing Rachel to be solace for others. For allowing Rachel to share her message. And for being candid, forthright, and honest in your journey.

    Rachel may have been your gift from God- but she's ours too! And Rachel has given us the greatest gift- her momma.

  4. If your baby suffered a birth defect and you took Prozac® during pregnancy, you should consider consulting a birth injury lawyer. Some antidepressants may increase the risk of birth defects in children whose mothers take the medication while pregnant. For more information, contact our Prozac® birth injury attorneys.

    prozac and clubfoot


We so appreciate your words of encouragement!
Thank you! ♥ The Aubes