Sometimes my heart just aches. It aches for my little ones who never saw the sun even though they are in much brighter light now. Who lay limp in my hands instead of clutching at my hair. A consequence of not living on a desert island is being surrounded by infants. It is possible to feel happiness and agony, to enjoy the sight of a sleeping baby while simultaneously feeling like someone has stabbed you in the heart and kicked you down.
I know women who have not been able to have living babies. I know women who make baby blankets and gowns and other items for other babies, but never their own. Women who attend baby shower after baby shower, who receive announcements by email, and on Facebook, who have a smile that gets stiff after a while. My heart aches for them too. We cannot diminish the joy in the world; we should not silence those who rejoice in their brand-new babies. Every new soul is a gift from God and a cause of rejoicing amongst the angels.
But it would be dishonest to pretend that I am like those other saintly women I know who martyrically push through the pain to rejoice with others, even as they are crying inside. Sometimes it just plain hurts. Innocent would be 10 months now. Andrew would be about seven weeks. For everyone else it feels like a long time ago. For me it just happened.
|From Innocent’s one year memorial, March 31st.|