We didn't go to church today. It would be the only service that we'd miss. I just got home from the hospital yesterday, and I didn't think that we would have been emotionally able to go. Many didn't even know what happened yet, and it would have been awkward seeing those wondering looks..."Wasn't she pregnant? Where's the baby?" (I remember getting a few of those looks a week or two later...very awkward.)
I finally called my mom in WI before she and dad left for early church. It would be the first time I talked to her since Grace died. I don't remember what we said.
One of our church elders and his family stopped over after church today. He had a very nice devotion for us. I can't remember a word of it. He is a very soft-spoken man. In many ways, he reminds me of my dad. When he spoke, his lips were quivering and I thought he was going to cry. I'll always remember that.
Before eating lunch, we prayed. This had never been so difficult to do. Through tears, I forced myself to say, “Oh give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good.” I know that we should always thank Him, even for the tests He gives us...and He is good, I know that. But this was hard to say after losing Grace. After lunch, Pastor brought the flower arrangement from church that Bob dropped off the day before. He would be back later with his wife and would do a devotion then.
My milk came in the night before, so today I was very uncomfortable. I showered before our company came and cried the entire time. I had this post-pregnant body and nothing to show for it. I was engorged and in so much physical and emotional pain. My stomach still looked like I was at least 6 months pregnant. I didn't want to wear my maternity clothes, but I had no choice. Only 3 days had gone by.
Today, we also started receiving flowers. Bob's mom and her husband had a nice flower arrangement sent of pink, red, and white roses and carnations. After the 3rd or 4th deliveries, I was beginning to wonder when the florists were going to say "Congratulations!" I remember answering the door, smiling, and saying "Thank You." When the living room was so full of them though, it just took its toll on me...especially when they started to die, too. We didn't get flowers because we had a baby. We got flowers because our baby died, and that was hard to realize.
As the week went on, we also received so many cards—not the joyful, congratulatory baby cards that we received after our other 3 pregnancies, but cards of sympathy and sincere condolences. Our living room had so many flowers in it. They were all beautiful, yet a painful reminder of losing our baby. A few days later, they died and in some ways it was a relief to throw them out. The personal messages included in the cards were heartfelt and sincere. They were meant to provide comfort, and in time they will. Each card made me cry, sometimes uncontrollably. It was nice to know that people were thinking of us, but I wanted the cards to stop coming so I wasn't constantly reminded about our baby that never came home with us. On days when there were no cards, I'd get upset because it seemed as though nobody cared and their lives got to go on like normal.
May 24, day #4 ~ Right away this morning we received a phone call saying that meals were prepared by some church friends and were going to be delivered...When would we like them? Bob answered this call, and I just shook my head. Are we supposed to be hungry? That was the one thing that I had planned for...Meals were already prepared in the freezer and the list of other meals that Bob and the girls could make was posted on the fridge. Meals are delivered to moms who bring babies home from the hospital. That gives the deliverer an excuse to see the new baby. I certainly didn't want to eat someone else's food and then feel as though I had to entertain them. (I'm sure that this isn't what I was expected to do, but remember that my mind wasn't in a good place.) Meals are also brought when someone dies and there's a funeral. Well, we already made the decision that we weren't going to have a funeral, and no one in our family was coming anyway, so we didn't need the food.
I've often felt that our refusal of the kind gesture of food was taken as "They don't want or need anything. They just want to be left alone." I realize that people want to "help" and doing something...anything...is their way of showing support. Again...we didn't know what to think or do. We heard so many times that "You're such private people." I took that as their poor excuse as to why no one ever said anything. Food brings comfort...nothing was going to make this better or easier for us...especially not food. What I needed then, and continue to need today, is to talk...to feel as though it's o.k. to talk about this...this crazy animal I call grief.
Bob and I went back down to the Vanderbilt clinic to have the staples removed this morning. It was a quiet and uncomfortable appointment. This day was particularly difficult because it was my 1st time out. Bob had been great—very loving and supportive, but I felt so empty and alone. While sitting in the waiting room, I wondered how many others were suffering silently.
The nurse took me into the exam room, and I didn't make conversation with her. I was still unable to control the tears and kept thinking that I should have a baby with me today. After all, that's why I have staples in my belly. I didn't know if she knew that we lost our baby. She never mentioned anything about it or asked how the baby was doing. She had me lie down on the table and turned her back to get things ready. Not a word was said. It felt like it took her forever before she started pulling out the staples. While her back was turned, I was wiping tears but turned them off as soon as she turned around. Maybe they're instructed to not say anything, but her acknowledgement would have been a relief in so many ways.
On Wednesday, May 26, Bob and Maddy drove to WI to attend Brittany's 8th grade graduation service and to bring her home for the summer. I stayed home to heal and take care of our animals. A young friend spent the day with me which was nice, but what I really needed was to be left alone. I absolutely couldn't sit, because all I would do was think. I had her help me make jam just to kill some time. (Isn't that what everyone does after having a C-section?) When Heather wanted to play with her, I cleaned Maddy's and Heather's bedroom. We were going to have Grace sleep in their room, because the crib was still set up in there for Heather. I took the crib apart and put it in the garage. I also got rid of anything else that we were saving for our baby.
Throughout the day whenever I wasn't around our friend, I cried. Our pastor's wife came that night to take her home. She brought her boys with her and I had a difficult time looking at them. The last time they saw me, I was still pregnant. I watched them a couple of days each week and would talk to them about my big belly. They would just giggle. Would they ask about the baby? I assumed that they were told not to. When they left, I felt relieved. It was excruciating to hold back the tears. When I didn't see tears from my friends, I felt that I couldn't cry either. I'm sure that they were having a difficult time holding theirs back, too.
When Heather and I said prayers before bed, we said, “...and God bless Baby Grace.” We talked a little about heaven and Heather said that she thought Grace was playing with other little children. Of course, the tears were flowing when we were talking, and Heather said, “And dear God, please make my momma stop crying."
Before I went to bed, I checked on Heather. I just stood there and watched her sleeping peacefully. I was so thankful that God had already blessed us with 3 beautiful, healthy daughters, especially after seeing Grace hooked up to machines. She would have lived a life of suffering. I prayed that I'd never take them for granted again.
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