The ache that doesn’t end…

I may or may not keep this post up.

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.

10 thoughts on “The ache that doesn’t end…

  1. I think of you often Mat. Anna. there have been a lot of new babies in our church this year. I *try* to let this give me hope, but sometimes I end up in tears, feeling the pain of my losses. It helps if I think of the new babies in our parish as gifts to all of us and I ask for turns to hold and snuggle them.

    love, Jodie

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  2. I thought about you this week when I held my new nephew. (He's the first and probably only child of a couple who are older than you and Father.) Could just barely, barely imagine the pain if he hadn't made it all the way. Much love & prayers.

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  3. Thank you for your raw and honest comments. I have lost two children within the last seven months and I don't have any living children. Your honesty and blogging has been a balm to me. I now know that I am not alone in this pain. May God bless you.

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  4. When I say this prayer at the end of the Akathist to the Mother of God, Nurturer of Children, I add you and your Andrew and Innocent:

    Prayer for Unborn Infants

    Remember, O Lord, Lover of Mankind the souls of Thy departed servants, infants who died accidentally in the wombs of Orthodox mothers from unknown cause, either from difficult birth, or from some carelessness and who therefore did not receive the Mister of Holy Baptism. Baptize them, O Lord, in the sea of Thy compassions, and save them by Thine inexpressible grace. Amen.

    http://www.serfes.org/orthodox/NuturerofChildren.htm

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  5. I was reminded recently of how we carry grief with us, no matter how old it may be (I was blindsided by 'Abide With Me', the last hymn we sang at a friend's funeral a few years ago … and just uncontrollably burst into tears. I literally sobbed through the whole thing — thankfully this was at home while watching the end of the Olympic opening ceremonies, which meant I avoided making a spectacle of myself …) so your words struck a chord.

    You and your family are in my prayers.

    — Valja in Norway

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  6. Hugs to you. I was looking through old medical bills today and saw that it was exactly six years ago that I first saw a tiny heartbeat on an ultrasound. I was only six weeks along, and we learned that I had a subchorionic hemorrhage. Four weeks later we lost our little Esther. Time (and two more children) have definitely eased the pain, but sometimes I still feel the sadness and wondering about her and the other baby we lost.

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  7. I am sorry you don't have all of your babies with you. I know I miss my babies terribly and do think of how old they'd be, too. Isaiah would be about 6 weeks and I would be 26 weeks pregnant with Catherine. It is a deep, deep pain. Sending you love. Sorry I'm only just now getting caught up on your blog.

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