I've been having some emotions lately that have been hard to sit with.
They have to do with my miscarriages, and not knowing what to do with the feelings that are still there surrounding all of them.
It's not something I talk about really, except with my husband, because I don't ever want to make any of my friends feel bad about having babies.
It's not about other people's babies, it's about mine.
And I am truly happy for my family and friends when they announce pregnancies and newborns and get their babies baptized, and when they talk about how they're growing and so on.
It's just that, even in that joy, there's also pain.
They coexist.
It's like nothing I've ever felt before...
Someone that feels more like a something; an idea, a thought, rather than an actual someone.
How do you find closure when that part of you doesn't get to experience moving on?
And yet, you don't want to just do something for the sake of closure either.
I don't want to have to have another baby to feel ok.
And for the most part, I do feel ok.
I do have peace knowing that God's plan is perfect, and He measures out every single moment of every single life, and everything is exactly as it should be in that regard.
And I am not romanticizing things. Babies are alot of work, and having another one wouldn't just magically fix everything or undo what has already happened.
But sometimes, these emotions come up to the surface.
A deep sadness that hurts my heart.
Sometimes it's brief, momentary.
Other times it stays awhile.
It might be triggered by something I see or hear or think, or it might come from some place deep inside, out of my conscious awareness.
It surprises me.
I thought I was "over it." As much as anyone can be anyway.
But I'm learning that life goes on, you feel true joy and happiness and peace, and yet somewhere underneath it all, or maybe more accurately, alongside it all, there is still the memory of what is past, and there can be pain and sadness mixed in with the good stuff.
Your subconscious remembers.
And it's confusing...to feel two things at once.
They seem contradictive. Opposing. Opposite.
I want to just be happy. Or sad. How can I be both?
That's what love is I guess.
But how to love someone you've never met?
How to say goodbye before you meet?
I don't know exactly.
But I'm learning.
I'm learning that when I scroll through Facebook and an ad for adorable velvet headband hairbows comes up, modeled by a sweet, chubby baby that belongs to a complete stranger, and it makes me say "ahhh!" in admiration and simultaneously catch my breath at the surprisingly painful stab in my heart that reminds me I don't have a baby that I thought I would have, to just let it be...to just accept all of it as it comes, without judgement.
It's beautiful. It's painful.
It just is.
And that's ok.
We want to be strong. Feeling pain feels weak.
Admitting sorrow exists doesn't feel like something a strong person would do.
But it takes a lot of courage to be able to face your emotions and be honest about them, and not push them aside or suppress them or judge them.
It takes a strong person to open up and show their scars and say "this is me, all of it."
Not for sympathy or to drag others down.
But to say "I'm human too. I understand."
We can help people just as much in our weakness as we can in our strength.
It's just different.
Instead of acting like we have it all together and we can pull them out of the mess they're in, we can get down beside them and walk through it together.
But we fight the pain and the hurt and the sadness.
They don't feel good.
Our first inclination is to push them away.
We hate being uncomfortable.
But there are lessons to learn here. Lessons that don't come in any other way.
It is quite cathartic to be able to cry tears of joy and sadness and not feel like you have to figure out where it's all coming from.
Sometimes I do try to trace it back.
But more and more I'm learning to just let it be.
It's ok to feel things.
It's perfectly ok to cry.
Parents always tell their little kids "stop crying", "you don't need to cry about that". And I do it too with my own children once in a while. But I catch myself. And I try to rephrase it in a more helpful way.
Because we all carry this shame of crying, but we shouldn't.
Crying is just one way of releasing emotion.
And there are worse ways to release emotion, I might add.
So let people cry.
Let yourself cry.
Happy tears, sad tears, angry tears, tears of relief, tears of joy, buckets of tears.
They are all ok.
I'm ok.
But I still have sadness.
So much joy. SO many blessings.
But also pain.
And it comes up when it wants to, often inconveniently.
But it is teaching me things I did not know before.
And I am grateful.
"I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined to me, and heard my cry. He also brought me up out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my steps. He has put a new song in my mouth-- Praise to our God; many will see it and fear, and will trust in the Lord."
-Psalm 40:1-3-
They have to do with my miscarriages, and not knowing what to do with the feelings that are still there surrounding all of them.
It's not something I talk about really, except with my husband, because I don't ever want to make any of my friends feel bad about having babies.
It's not about other people's babies, it's about mine.
And I am truly happy for my family and friends when they announce pregnancies and newborns and get their babies baptized, and when they talk about how they're growing and so on.
It's just that, even in that joy, there's also pain.
They coexist.
It's like nothing I've ever felt before...
Someone that feels more like a something; an idea, a thought, rather than an actual someone.
How do you find closure when that part of you doesn't get to experience moving on?
And yet, you don't want to just do something for the sake of closure either.
I don't want to have to have another baby to feel ok.
And for the most part, I do feel ok.
I do have peace knowing that God's plan is perfect, and He measures out every single moment of every single life, and everything is exactly as it should be in that regard.
And I am not romanticizing things. Babies are alot of work, and having another one wouldn't just magically fix everything or undo what has already happened.
But sometimes, these emotions come up to the surface.
A deep sadness that hurts my heart.
Sometimes it's brief, momentary.
Other times it stays awhile.
It might be triggered by something I see or hear or think, or it might come from some place deep inside, out of my conscious awareness.
It surprises me.
I thought I was "over it." As much as anyone can be anyway.
But I'm learning that life goes on, you feel true joy and happiness and peace, and yet somewhere underneath it all, or maybe more accurately, alongside it all, there is still the memory of what is past, and there can be pain and sadness mixed in with the good stuff.
Your subconscious remembers.
And it's confusing...to feel two things at once.
They seem contradictive. Opposing. Opposite.
I want to just be happy. Or sad. How can I be both?
That's what love is I guess.
But how to love someone you've never met?
How to say goodbye before you meet?
I don't know exactly.
But I'm learning.
I'm learning that when I scroll through Facebook and an ad for adorable velvet headband hairbows comes up, modeled by a sweet, chubby baby that belongs to a complete stranger, and it makes me say "ahhh!" in admiration and simultaneously catch my breath at the surprisingly painful stab in my heart that reminds me I don't have a baby that I thought I would have, to just let it be...to just accept all of it as it comes, without judgement.
It's beautiful. It's painful.
It just is.
And that's ok.
We want to be strong. Feeling pain feels weak.
Admitting sorrow exists doesn't feel like something a strong person would do.
But it takes a lot of courage to be able to face your emotions and be honest about them, and not push them aside or suppress them or judge them.
It takes a strong person to open up and show their scars and say "this is me, all of it."
Not for sympathy or to drag others down.
But to say "I'm human too. I understand."
We can help people just as much in our weakness as we can in our strength.
It's just different.
Instead of acting like we have it all together and we can pull them out of the mess they're in, we can get down beside them and walk through it together.
But we fight the pain and the hurt and the sadness.
They don't feel good.
Our first inclination is to push them away.
We hate being uncomfortable.
But there are lessons to learn here. Lessons that don't come in any other way.
It is quite cathartic to be able to cry tears of joy and sadness and not feel like you have to figure out where it's all coming from.
Sometimes I do try to trace it back.
But more and more I'm learning to just let it be.
It's ok to feel things.
It's perfectly ok to cry.
Parents always tell their little kids "stop crying", "you don't need to cry about that". And I do it too with my own children once in a while. But I catch myself. And I try to rephrase it in a more helpful way.
Because we all carry this shame of crying, but we shouldn't.
Crying is just one way of releasing emotion.
And there are worse ways to release emotion, I might add.
So let people cry.
Let yourself cry.
Happy tears, sad tears, angry tears, tears of relief, tears of joy, buckets of tears.
They are all ok.
I'm ok.
But I still have sadness.
So much joy. SO many blessings.
But also pain.
And it comes up when it wants to, often inconveniently.
But it is teaching me things I did not know before.
And I am grateful.
"I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined to me, and heard my cry. He also brought me up out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my steps. He has put a new song in my mouth-- Praise to our God; many will see it and fear, and will trust in the Lord."
-Psalm 40:1-3-
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