Two weeks and two days ago, I still had a baby in my womb.
A dead baby, granted...but still, my baby.
I've been so, so, so blessed with people emailing and calling and sending cards and flowers and messages and letting me cry...I've had offers of meals and/or anything else we may need, and I can't help but think that people are just so, so amazing.
But then I think of so many friends I know who have suffered miscarriages and wonder why they have not had this...this outpouring of love and help and pity (yes, even that is appreciated because I know it's from a genuine place) that we've had just seems to be so different than what I know so many have experienced.
And still so different from when Matthew died...
I wonder...why? Why are people being so great? Do they just not believe (like we can't) that again...after so much hope and miraculous happening...we just end up with pictures?
Do they feel like we have been given more than we should get?
Do they wonder how much more we are willing to endure before we throw our hands up and say, "UNCLE!"?
I also wonder why it's been different from when Matthew died...far, far fewer cards/letters/people throwing themselves at our feet and begging us to just let them help anyway they could. (Again, not that we have not been inundated with so many amazing blessings from so many with this baby...just nowhere near the same as when Matthew died.)
Why? Is it because this baby didn't have the same attachment as people had to us and to Matthew? Was Matthew more 'real' because he was 'born' living and breathed and was held by his daddy?
Do children rank in the impact their lives have based on their gestation?
Sort of seems like it.
But I guess get it. And I don't judge.
With Matthew, people (us included) were shocked. SHOCKED. After Matthew, I don't think ANYTHING would shock us.
With Matthew, it was new territory...for us, for our family, for so many who loved us.
This time...we've all been here, just a little bit. We've lived through (and you've watched or read about) the days and weeks and years after losing our baby. This is certainly not old hat, but it bears an ugly familiarity similar to waking up from a bad dream only to go back to sleep and find yourself in that same dream.
Knowing you can't escape, yet feeling like since you woke up once, eventually, you'll wake up again.
We breathe again since we've lost Matthew. We love again. We rejoice again. We are content with our lives again.
And then, content as we are...we go for more. Are given more.
Only to find ourselves in that same dream.
Is it different because we know there IS light at the end of the tunnel? Is it different because we know that we can survive and thrive?
But not EASIER.
I'm at a different place in my life. In my walk with God, in my marriage, in my place in this world. In who I am and what I can survive and what I am so, so grateful for.
This post is certainly all over the place and not necessarily what I was trying to get across.
I'm not sure what I was trying to get across, other than there is surely a difference...but different or not, there is pain and loss and aching for what could and should have been.
That is NOT different than we have with Matthew. He and his little sister or brother (and I believe it was a sister) are just as precious and loved and wanted by me and their father.
And we look forward to being together again one day.
Here are some pictures from Easter. The day before Dr. Sweeney had to tell us how sorry he was. The day we smiled and I glowed because life was so, so, sweet in spite of all the hardship.
It still is. Grateful for all my miracles.
The day before, he face-planted on the sidewalk. Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer for Easter!
How I love, love, love this precious little boy.