There was no way to see it coming, it hit me too quickly. This was the biggest wave yet.
I stretch and bend, trying to ease a clean sheet snug onto my bed. To smooth it out. A smooth bed is a tiny triumph right now.
That’s when I find them. Two tiny knitted socks.
A gift for Mabel, given to us at Christmas just a few weeks ago, these socks are handmade and so perfect. Somehow they had fallen between my mattress and headboard. I think the last time I saw them I had been holding them while laying down, smiling and imagining her wearing them. I probably fell asleep with those happy thoughts.
As I retrieve them from the mattress, I hand them to my husband and quietly fall to the bed. A tidal wave of grief hits me next, bowling my mind over and over having caught me completely unguarded. Unprepared. It tries to suck me down, deep into hysterics.
But I am held, protected from falling further. Held by my husband and by God, both weeping with me. For me.
The trembling started deep within me, in places I didn’t know could tremble. From my empty womb, dark and echoing, I cried out. From the tips of my toes to my crushed heart, I cried out. Breathing, breathing, struggling to breathe, and still they held me.
I fell asleep being held, by the prayers said over me begging for peace and sleep and comfort. By strong Father arms and a knowing that it was ok to grieve and ok to feel peace too.
The night time is the beginning of the worst part of the day, for the night is when I beg for sleep while being scared to turn off the lights, but it’s the morning that I truly dread the most. Each day is a re-do in the events that happened, the loss sustained, and the Grace that is needed. Each new morning I have to face the day knowing I will have to do so much just to feel normal, to be a good mother, to not disappear.
I woke up and through swollen eyes sealed mostly shut with salt, I could see it would be a different morning. This morning, caffeine arrived at my bedside along with a warm donut, hugs from many tiny arms, and plenty of love.
“I wanted this morning to be different.“ Man smiles, hoping I can smile too.
And I do. If only for that moment, I smile at the effort and the understanding. These actions hold me too. I feel Held.
All of the love and support you all are sending over comments, emails, twitter, it all is holding me. Keeping me going, reminding me of Life. I feel so held by all of you. Someday I will be able to reply to each of you to tell you how you’ve gotten me through this. I can’t wait.
My friend Amy sent me this song, so I would know she was thinking of me. I have listened to it many, many times, but forgot the words were so heartbreaking.
Listen to Natalie Grant, “Held”