Behind the Curtain

I stepped into the shower and closed the curtain.

My mind wandered...  thoughts of Rachel flooded in.  Thoughts of a few other stories I've recently heard of babies with anencephaly and the frustration with why they seem to hurt my heart.  Maybe it's just too close to Rachel's birthday for comfort?  Maybe it's another phase of my grief?  Why is it harder now than it was a year ago.... or even right after she died?  I'm so worn out from trying to live each day in this new position we call a bereaved mother.  It's a lot of work.

I started to cry.

I know the shower isn't an unusual place for people to cry, but when I do cry there, it doesn't often last long.  I never realized it until this morning, but think the strange feeling of crying without being able to feel the tears is actually a distraction for me. 

This morning, the realization of how I need to feel the tears in order to have a 'good cry' made me cry harder...  and the more I concentrated on the fact that I couldn't feel my tears through the water, the harder I cried.  Soon, I was sobbing. 

I cried the deep cries that leave one feeling exhausted. Without having to worry about smudged make up, being discovered, or making my kids worry.... I let it out without reservation.

I could feel my nose begin to get stuffed up, I could feel my breathing become harder, I could feel the tense muscles in my face and belly.  But it wasn't until I cried so hard that I could feel the tears that it felt like it had done what the crying set out to accomplish.

I felt the warm pools of water in the corner of my eyes and finally felt relief.

It confirmed for me once more that God heals me through the brokenness.  That trying to brush my pain aside will never truly bring healing.  I need to feel the tears to relieve the pain.  And maybe that is why God created our eyes like He did.

I stopped the water and opened the curtain... the only proof of my meltdown were the red eyes left behind...and I prepared myself for another day as Rachel's Mama...  something I would never change, but requires some time behind the curtain.