It has absolutely no predictability. One minute, all is right with the world, then all of the sudden I'm a total wreck and there's nothing I can do but be completely overwhelmed with feelings of remorse.
At a moment's notice I can go from feeling completely normal, to being unable to breathe normally or think a complete thought. Here's why.
Sometimes I feel like I should just go ahead and get over it already. I guess it's mostly because I feel slightly alone in this mourning process. No one was able to hold our baby, smell his or her wonderful baby smell, say his or her name, or change his or her diapers, so it's understandable that no one feels the affects of this loss as deeply as we do. But, I don't feel completely alone because there are so many people who have gone above and beyond and helped me feel so loved and cared for.
Then there are times when I remember how deep of a loss this is and wonder how I'm still functioning. We lost our child. Our baby died. Yes, the baby was very young when he died, but that doesn't change the fact that it was our child and that he was loved an inexplicable amount.
This experience has increased my empathy for others who've lost children. I can't even begin to imagine the even deeper pain of losing a child later on in pregnancy, at birth, or at any other point in a child's life. The thought of it leaves me speechless. My heart is especially hurting for some friends of ours who have recently lost their 26 year old son to cancer. The heartache they are going through is unimaginable.
Here's one thing I am grateful for: even though each time I see another pregnant women the intensity of my loss feels like a knife to my stomach, it has not decreased my ability to share in their joy of experiencing the miracle of pregnancy and babies. I can't talk about it much, but I still feel so much joy for them.
So what's the point of this rambling? I don't really have one. I do know that the peace that comes from knowing I'm loved by a God who is all-knowing and understands completely, is enough to get me through this.
One of these days, baby #2 will come along; and it's going to be a glorious day.