Sometimes it happens. I'm going through life, fine as anything, thinking about Sarah here and there, but with the grief of her loss feeling...less fresh. The wound is sort of, for lack of a better description, scabbed over. And then I hear a story, talk to a mom, or several, and it seems that everywhere I look I see someone still in the throes of their grief, and it brings mine back to the surface.
Which isn't to say that it's all about me. It's just that my own feelings are still raw under that scab. And when I hear someone else talk about their experiences, sometimes the scab just gets ripped right off and I commiserate and sympathize in a very real, and painful, way.
I would never again wish to go through the pain of losing Sarah. At the same time, I would do it again if it meant sparing other women the grief of their own loss. It feels, unfair, that they should have to suffer too. Of course, I suppose that's very arrogant of me to think that my pain should have been deep enough to have been enough for everyone. After all, there's only one person whose pain was enough for the whole world, and it definitely was not me. But I do think it speaks to how much grief one can feel for a baby they knew for so short a time.
We moms who lose infants, newborns, or babies still in the womb, we don't just grieve for the actual baby who was with us and is now gone. We grieve for every hope and dream we had, for every smile we'll never see, and for every laugh and word we'll never hear. We grieve for what was and what could have been.
I won't lie. I'm sad today. Today it hurts. Today I want Sarah in my arms and dancing around the living room driving me crazy like a 3 year old girl should. Of course, my Sarah would never have done those things. Her brain would never have let her do them.
Oddly, that's where my hope is. Because I believe that in heaven, she is not limited. Her brain is perfect. She can dance, she can run, and she can sing praises to the King who made her and saw fit to take her home. And I have some measure of peace and hope in the knowledge that we will be together again one day.
Thankfully our God does not leave us bereft and alone. He is there for us. He has a plan, even if we can't see it, even if we don't know what it is. So, even though I'm sad today, I'm grateful too.
Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
so great is his unfailing love.
For he does not willingly bring affliction
or grief to the children of men.