Monday, March 25, 2013

Sing Like Never Before

Moving through life, one step at a time.... tears never far from my eyes.  I take each step as if I'm somehow one step closer to anything but heaven.  I move as if I'm moving towards something that will somehow take it all away.  Somehow bring me back to a place where I didn't know this pain. Where somehow the beauty will finally truly conquer the sorrow and bring some relief. 

Why wouldn't I be?  That's what I've been told will happen.  I look around and know it's expected of me from others.  It seems to even happen for other baby loss mothers.  Just not this one.  I feel the air on my neck as another shoulder rubs past me at church.  Another person I used to consider a friend with no desire to step outside their comfort zone and enter my uncomfortable one. No desire to reach out to me and love me where I'm at.  And I feel it.  I'm alone in it.  I'm part of a club that nobody wants to join - not even for a visit, that nobody understands, and that somehow is supposed to be something I am to grow comfortable in myself and get used to.  And maybe they are waiting for me to decide that I'm ready to leave my grief in the past and be someone else.... someone easier to talk to.... someone less enveloped with pain....or with less needs.  Believe me, I wish I could.

My comfort zone will never exist again.  Every minute of every day I am missing something. And I can't get away from it.  I never wanted to before because it meant trying to get away from her.

But yesterday I wanted to just rip down all my photos of her, all my memories, her hand and foot molds, her pieces of hair, the still wet prints I try to touch as if I'll somehow feel her again - and I just wanted out.  Forget it all and be done with this all.  Get her out of here, out of my mind, out of my heart and just be normal again.  Where people didn't shun me because I am messy and I could just exist in my ignorant bliss.  Where people weren't afraid to give me a hug.  Where smiles and conversation weren't an unusual thing for me to be given.  Where people weren't afraid to ask me how I was doing because they knew there would be no dead baby talk if they did.  Where I wasn't so needy and left so uncared for.  I looked around and I just wanted it all gone.  I had to fight the urge to tear it all down.  I'm so sorry Rachel, I don't really feel that way.....  I felt the baby kick and I sobbed.  All. Afternoon. Long.

I've been crying constantly for days.

This morning in the shower, it started again.  And, through the tears, I said it out loud.... I don't want to be me. 

I don't.

I don't want my rough past.  I don't want my complicated mind, my sensitive heart, my temper, my quick tongue.  I don't want my deep emotions, my vivid memory. 

I'm not the wife I want to be, the mother I want to be, the friend I want to be.  And every time I think I get there, it falls apart again. 

I'm tired of distance in relationships and everyone expecting me to be the one to change it make them more comfortable around lighten up..... but not being able to.  I hate that I can't be that person.

I don't want grief, depression, or every time I say I'm having a hard time people saying they have to go - or sending me emails about how if I just got the counselor and medication they had that I would feel better, like they do. Or if I just changed my perspective maybe I'd feel more joy. Because the truth is that my real problem is that I'm me.  I've tried it all - and still, I'm me.  I was me in counseling, me on medication, and I will always be me.  I was me before I buried my baby.  And I've only gotten more complicated, sensitive, and heavy hearted since.

So today, I got out of the shower... red faced with puffy, blood shot eyes and I packed the kids up, put on my sunglasses, and went for a walk.  We spent money we don't have on food at the store because it was easy and fun.  One chicken finger and one mozzarella stick each.  The lady who works there came up and TALKED TO ME.... asked me how I was, congratulated me on the new baby and told me again how strong I am (we donated to her daughter on Rachel's first birthday so she knows about Rachel) and I just fell into tears and told her how I was struggling. She just nodded and told me it will be okay.

And although I don't actually believe it will be 'okay' right now.... although in my heart of hearts, I truly believe this is going to get harder before it gets easier - because I have spent all this time building things that are falling down and I have to grieve something new every day.... I just sang.... because what else can I do?

Bless the Lord, O my soul
O my soul
Worship His holy name.
Sing like never before 
O my soul
I'll worship Your Holy name.
It's easy to sing - to praise Him - when life is good.  When the cancer gets cleared.  When the baby is healed.  When your surrounded by people who love you unconditionally and who you know you can rely on. It's easy to sing when you feel loved.  It's easy to sing after a trial that you can say is over now.  Or even in the midst of a trial that you can see the end coming soon.
But 'singing like never before' for me..... well, it means singing when my baby wasn't healed.  When people don't support me.  When I am alone.  When God - and His people - are silent...distant...and it might even be all my fault.  When I know I will never be able to say this trial is over.  And when I know nobody around me gets that.  It's singing when I am broken, lost, lonely and would rather die.... because I know He is good.  Even when I can't feel Him near.  And clearly, He's all I've got. 

And so even though I am in a dark place right now, I am going to keep singing this until my soul feels it and He responds.  I've sung it so many times today that I heard the kids humming it from the other room.

I need prayer..... and maybe a couple hugs?  Everyone says they don't know what to say to me, but all I've ever asked for was hugs and understanding.  Yet, it seems that those are things most won't give.

But today, at two different times when I was sitting here crying, one friend called and later another stopped by to bring me some daisy solar lights she got for Rachel's grave - and then another sent me a message asking how she could pray for me.  So, I know He hears me - and I'm thankful for the people who listen to His prompting.  It definitely lifted my spirits today.



  1. Praying for you! Oh how I wish I lived closer so I could come give you a big giant hug! And cry with you (because that's what I do-I cry especially when others are-part of my sensitive heart). I wish you didn't have to deal with this and that you had your beautiful girl here. I'm sorry she's not and that many people in your life aren't supportive of you or your grief. Prayers and hugs to you.


  2. Very few people want to be in my comfort zone, either. No one wants to talk about infertility. I dont like being me either. I have no kids to enjoy. Enjoy your babies...enjoy your Rachel<3. Embrace what you have. It must be hard, so hard to live with out her everyday. I dont know what it is like, but I do know what it is like to not have the joy of children (my own) in my life. Hugs.

  3. hugs
    for all your goodness i will KEEP ON SINGING
    on that day my strength is failing!! its so not easy...
    so not easy
    so not easy

  4. Remembering you in my thoughts and prayers as always. :hug:

  5. I don't know you in real life but I love you, Stacy. Your words and your suffering brought me to tears and I am sooooo impressed by your strength and your love for all your children, your husband and especially for God. I'm praying for you constantly!
    So sorry that I'm not able to give you real hugs!!
    Love and hugs, anja


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