In music, a grace note is a note that is held for a brief moment...barely touched on the piano. "Grace Notes" seems like a fitting name for this blog. Our lives changed when I carried our daughter, Grace, for 9 months only to hold her (in my earthly opinion) for a brief moment. She lives in heaven with her Savior. If only that comfort, that sure hope we have, would take away the pain of missing her.

"As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother's womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things." Ecclesiastes 11:5

We are always thankful for Grace.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

10 Days Later

It's difficult to look back to these first days and weeks after Grace died and read about the thoughts and feelings that were going on in my head. But, this is how it was. Some things haven't changed...almost 2 years later. I pray that saying these things "out loud" will help the healing continue.

May 30, 2010
Today we went to church for the first time since Grace went to heaven. Last Sunday was the only time we missed. We arrived right when church began. I couldn't look at anyone. We sat in the back pew. Bob kept his arm around me the entire service. I cried throughout most of it, especially during the hymns and prayers. It was amazing how every word meant so much more now. We also noticed how often the word “grace” was mentioned. I couldn't sing the hymns or speak the words to the prayers, but I paid attention to every word.

After the service, while we were waiting to be ushered out, a friend came up from behind us, put her arms around us and said, “We love you guys.” That was nice. I couldn't respond.

We had been invited to a friend's home for a Memorial Day cookout later today and asked if things were still on. She said that they were if we wanted to come. I said that I didn't, but I would. I forced myself to go for the girls and Bob. Life goes on, right?

As soon as we drove out our driveway to go to the cookout, I wanted to turn around and go back home. It got worse when we pulled into their driveway. I remember walking into their home and hearing laughter and talking...that was overwhelming to me. One of the teens smiled at me, and in my opinion, was a little too enthusiastic when she commented on what a cute shirt I was wearing. She had no idea that I was wearing the only maternity shirt that I kept. I just smiled and kept on walking. Everyone was in the kitchen filling their plates, getting ready to eat. The women were in the kitchen and I couldn't even look at them. I got my food and couldn't get outside by the men fast enough. I felt more comfortable by them. A friend came out to make small talk. I had nothing to say. I couldn't talk about “nothing”. I was asked about the vegetable garden, because when you're 9 months pregnant you're supposed to have planted one. (Of course, those who know me, know that's exactly what I did, but when your baby dies, do you really want to talk about the garden?) Eventually, a storm came through and we all went inside. Everyone sat in the kitchen and I felt completely closed in. At times, I wiped away tears. I don't think anyone noticed. I got up to begin rounding up the girls. When I started upstairs their 5 year old asked, “So your baby died? That's sad.” My heart sank and I just wanted to leave. I couldn't get outside fast enough. The girls went out with me, but Bob stayed inside. Our friend, Angie, didn't say anything, just touched my shoulder...and that's all I needed. A little acknowledgment goes a long way.

I walked around the car and opened all the doors and just stood there wanting to go so badly. It seemed to take forever to get the girls in the car. I felt as though I couldn't breathe. Bob was still in the house talking and I just wanted to go. Finally, I went in the house and I heard, “...their baby died...” I was getting so mad at him. Our friend didn't even acknowledge me and I went back outside. I stood by the car, yelled for the girls, and saw Bob through the window just standing there talking inside. I mouthed to him, “Let's go!”

So much of this had to be hormones. I was wearing nursing pads, because I was still leaking. I was still bleeding and nobody knew. It had only been 10 days. It felt like everyone could just forget. Wendy was pregnant. Now she's not. It's over. Bob brought out a frame that our friend gave to him. I wouldn't look at it and he put it in the trunk.

(As I remember back to that day, I didn't want to receive any gifts in memory of Grace. When we give gifts, the giver and receiver feel good...I didn't want anyone to "feel good" when they were giving us a gift in remembrance of our baby. That sounds ridiculous to say that out loud, but that's how my mind was working at the time. I just wanted my baby. The picture hangs on our wall and holds a picture of Grace's feet.) It has become one of my favorite treasures.

(I wrote this next paragraph as I was trying to catch up in my journal.)
(7 weeks later as I try to recall what happened, I'm frustrated. It feels as though everyone gets to continue on with their summer plans, while ours have been shattered. The awkwardness is unbearable. No one knows what to say, and Grace is completely avoided. It continues to feel as though she never existed. I think that I expect our family and friends to know exactly what to say and do, but how could they know? We don't even know what to do.)

May 31
All that I can remember of this day is that I threw out all of the flowers. It was a relief to have one reminder out of sight. We were still getting an occasional card throughout the week. They were nice with comforting messages, but I didn't feel comforted at the time. Our well-meaning friends are only trying to help, but have they suffered the loss of a baby? Some might have. For whatever reason, I'd rather be comforted by those who have been through this, too. Not by those who really have no clue.
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Some might think that we've fallen off the face of the earth. I don't remember ever being good at keeping in touch with others. Calling, writing, or sending cards hasn't been my strongest point. We've felt it was necessary to stay hidden behind our hill the last 2 years. It's how we have been able to survive...to somehow keep going when our summer plans drastically changed in May '10. Bob has always had the God-given knack for building things. He amazes us with his talent. I've built plenty of walls inside of myself without a hammer and nails...walls that need to come down. The only way I feel that I can do that is by writing. My mind goes blank when I try to talk...so many thoughts and no way of putting those thoughts into words except on paper.

Grief is such an unpredictable roller coaster ride of emotions. Everyone means well...we know that. We all want to say or do the right thing...some do, some don't. Some aren't able to overcome the awkwardness of being around someone whose baby died. We make others too sad, so it's just easier for them to stay away...easier for them. The subject is avoided and that has been more devastating for me than watching Grace die in my arms. Again...everyone means well. In the past, I've avoided others using the same poor excuses we have often heard, "I didn't want to upset you," "I don't want to make you cry," I didn't know what to say." Pretending it didn't happen doesn't work. Acknowledgement means everything. Seeing silent tears from a friend standing off to the side meant more to me than listening to the thoughtless chatter of someone who felt it was better to say something rather than nothing. That probably doesn't make sense, but many things on this earth don't.

Nothing I say is meant to hurt or blame anyone. I don't talk much about our daughters who we get to share our lives with. They are not my struggle. Life after Grace is, at times. I don't talk much about the loving support we have received either. I need to talk about the things that cloud my head...the things that keep the walls up. This isn't about me or anyone else. It's about how I can glorify God through this.

We no longer try to wrap our minds around God's plans for us. We just trust Him...and it's not easy. Our faith continues to be refined every day. For that, we are thankful.

What I share here will be difficult. I don't open myself up to many. I'm too afraid of what others will say or won't say. Maybe this will give others a better understanding of what goes on inside my head. If you think you've figured me out, please let me know, because I'm still trying to understand me.

As I just said, I want to glorify God through this. I want others to see that side of me. Some do and many don't. I continue to have a difficult time rejoicing on the outside, but I do. I have joy and peace but it is no longer the unquenchable joy and peace we long to find here on earth. My joy is found in the sure hope of heaven...the sure hope of seeing our loved ones again as we continue to miss them. It's difficult surviving someone that we imagined sharing our lives with. Thankfully, Grace shared her entire life with us, and we know without a doubt, that she lives in heaven with her Savior.