Saturday, January 23, 2010

Two Months...

At least I'm not counting weeks, right?

Sixteen minutes from now would be Matthew's two-month birthday. It feels like it was just hours ago.

I have so many, many things going on in my always. I admit that even though yesterday was such a roller coaster day, overall, I ended it being hopeful.

Today, I got up, got out...saw some of my sweet children of years past (and always in my heart) and ran errands. I found myself thinking, "Maybe I am turning a corner."

Then I found myself feeling TREMENDOUS guilt and apprehension about even making that statement. I remember Dr. Polko telling me a few days after Matthew died that I *would* laugh and feel happy again and it was OK. I shouldn't beat myself up for it and it was nothing I should feel guilty about.
When she said that, I remember thinking, "Of course I won't feel guilty. Of course we are not meant to be miserable every day of our lives. Me smiling or laughing doesn't mean I love or miss Matthew any less."

Easy to say when I didn't feel even close to smiling or laughing. In fact, during the days after Matthew died and after his funeral, I was SO, SO, SO grateful for the dear family we had around us because we LAUGHED! We told stories, we remembered the funny things about our family, and we LAUGHED. I didn't feel the least bit guilty then because we *needed* to have levity and laughter in such a horrible and dark time. I know had we not, we may well have just fallen into a deep hole and not come out.
I think, also, I felt more permission to laugh--people were PURPOSELY trying to cheer me up because they were so worried about me and I, ever the eager-beaver-people-pleaser wanted to oblige to make them feel better too.

Now, though...two months later, I can't believe that I actually *do* feel guilty. Though I know two months have passed, as I said, it still feels like hours ago to me. The pain still feels that raw. And yet, yesterday after the doctor appointment, I found myself almost a little bouncy. Of course, that bounce was stopped dead in its tracks when we got to the cemetery, but...there was bounce before. The guilt in that comes from how easily I bounced at the prospect of being pregnant again. Though I KNOW that joy has nothing to do with my missing Matthew, today, it seems almost disrespectful. How can I be so desperately pained and bouncy at the same time?Here is where I can see the validity in Dr. Polko telling me NOT to be guilty about being happy again. Well--having happy moments, I guess is more what I have been experiencing. She was right though. I would and I do.

How in THE WORLD can I even contemplate happy when I don't have my son with me? How does one even reconcile that concept? Here's where the enemy gets you--"You can't love him *that* much if you are already able to laugh." "So what? He's so disposable that another possible pregnancy fixes it?" "Told you...after a bit it will feel like he was never here at all..." And it goes on...

So, I wrestle with that.

Ever since Matthew died, I have been sleeping even more poorly than before. Duh. However, I've found that when I wake up through the night, as I constantly do, things pop in and stick in my head, over and over, and over and over. At first, the song for his slide show, Visitor From Heaven by Twila Paris was what I would hear every time I woke up, or even had a blank thought in the shower or car or anywhere else. Once that faded, When We All Get To Heaven was the constant repetitive song. It is Well With My Soul lasted several days and Above All was another one. It's not just songs, either. When John and I went to Philadelphia two weeks ago, throughout the night, every time I woke up as I tossed, I heard in my head, "PRAY!" "PRAY!" "PRAY!" It was strong and it was fervent, over and over.
Last night was another night where I had the same, constant and repetitive words going through my head. Great is Thy Faithfulness...over and over, Great is Thy faithfulness...morning by morning, new mercies I see. All I have needed, Thy Hand has provided...Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me...
And so they have continued throughout the day.

The worst thing (and every day, I find a new one) I am now encountering is that as the time passes, my feelings of connection to Matthew sort of change. They don't disappear, but change. Even though he would be two months old today, in my head, he is still my wiggle-worm, in utero monkey. He's still that precious, soft-skinned little angel I stroked in his isolette, the little angel I hardly got to see or touch. I don't really have a concept of him at two months, and that breaks my heart. And as time goes on, I fear this won't get any better. It hurts too much to imagine what he would be like at certain stages, keep him as I remember him seems so small to me. I don't know how to describe it.

I know. I'm rambling. I warned of that at the beginning.

How I'd love to know how my life with Matthew would be different if he'd survived. I know how it is now...and it brings me such heartache.

Oh, how I love my precious baby boy.


  1. No moment from God is a rock of burden, it’s just a rock waiting to be broken apart into stepping stones.

  2. Lori,
    I can fully relate to the heartache you blog about, though our situations are a bit different (we had 6 months to digest that our son would die after birth.) Even though I don't know you other than through your blog, I want you to know that I pray for you daily. I even woke up in the middle of the night last night and thought of you and prayed. Being there just a month or so before you, I wish I had some great words of encouragement for you, but right now I just feel that letting you know I'm praying is enough. I know from experience that no words can make it all better. Only He can make it better.

  3. Oh Lori, my heart goes out to you. I get what you mean about the fight between feeling some bounce...then feeling the disrespect. Like being happy means forgetting. And the never ending painful memories of what "should have been". I wish I could say the pain goes away...but 10 1/2 months later the pain of missing my sweet Zac is just as raw. However, our sons would want us to hope again. They would want us to smile again so they can see that from up above. To know that we are okay, just as they are okay. But how difficult to allow ourselves to feel joy once more where such pain resides.
    Matthew will never disappear from you. No child will ever replace his special spot in your heart and your family. can hope again. It hurts, and it's scary...but bit by bit over time...hope will return. A bit bruised, but it will return.

    I still find myself some nights waking in desperation searching my bed for Zac...truly believing that he is there. And then I remember...

    I am praying for you. Praying as you look to the future of adding to your family, praying for you as you snuggle Matthew close to your heart, praying for you as each new month of what Matthew would have been turning will still bring a sting. Praying that you will not be tormented by the enemy. Boy...the enemy knows where to hit our weakness and how to pull at us. I pray for protection of your thoughts during those times. I struggle every day with that too.

    Missing Matthew with you today, but choosing to believe that our children are running together in heaven...full and complete. And one day we will be with them, and they will introduce us to each other and we will hear "I haven't been alone...I've been waiting here with my friends".

  4. I hope each day brings you one more smile ... XOXOXOXO, J

  5. It has been 8 years for me, and still I wonder how my life would be with my twins. What would they look like? How would they be in school...but then the biggie - would I have the 2 healthy children I have now (ages 1 & 5) if my twins hadn't died? I don't know. I struggle with that. I miss them terribly - but I don't know if we'd have had more if they had lived. God knows what He is doing, even though we have no idea. That is my prayer for you - that you will have another child, not to replace Matthew, but to complete a different part of your life. ((hugs)). Matthew will forever be part of you.

  6. Hugs and prayers for you Lori everyday! I have no idea what you are going through, but when you have those bouncey moments, I am sure it is Matthew speaking to his Mommy in some way, and letting her know he is alright, and himself is cheerful at the thought of having a brother or sister.



  7. Lori,
    Please allow yourself the joy of what is to come! Hold onto Matthew in whatever way you can - in any form that you can - that will be what is best for you... but allow yourself the smile. Allow yourself the bounce. Allow yourself to look forward to what is to come.

    You are in NO way disrespecting Matthew. No one will think that you are. I can imagine it would feel that way though...You clearly loved your son. Loving another won't make your love for Matthew less.

    May God keep comforting you as each turn in this road (journey) brings you something new.

    Still praying for you!

  8. Thanks for your comment on my blog. I just need to say that even though God gave faith - it wasn't easy to cling to Him all the time. I struggled. The blog was an outlet for me to deal - tell myself truth - but it was the hardest place I've ever been.
    Even two years later, I go back and read my own entries and can get lost in the raw grief that I feel in yours.
    I hope that my blog didn't discourage you - but gave you hope that one day the grief won't be a hurricane all the time. Mine is more like a sunshower now... necessary - even helpful... but never EVER gone.
    Today I blogged a story written by a friend of mine that describes how life balances between loss and happiness... I thought it described it well if you get a chance to read it.
    With a hug and prayers,

  9. I totally understand and get what you are saying!

    Sending you lots of love and hugs!

  10. I am so sorry for you loss of your beautiful baby boy. Jill shared your blog with me. We lost our IVF twin boys at 23 weeks in September. If you ever want to talk or vent, please feel free to email me at We recently went through a FET, and are expecting again. It has been a rough ride, but the pain will get easier to deal with. You will be in my prayers dear. I am so sorry for your huge loss.