So even though October is a month that is full of the utter beauty of nature...in other ways it, for lack of a better word, sucks.
Late September it slowly starts to creep in...the heavy feeling that I associate with this month.
The heavy feeling is mostly associated with loss. I have some friends that have lost a lot during this month...losses that will forever change who they are.
Along with it comes Pregnancy and Infant loss awareness day...which is today. I learned about this day 7 years ago when I lost my twins. Honestly sometimes I feel kinda guilty for grieving so much for my little ones because I know several people who were a lot farther along--or were even able to see little parts of their child's personality sprouting before they were taken from this earth. It makes me think that honestly I don't know if I could keep getting out of bed everyday if I lost one of my boys that I have here with me now. I have deep admiration and respect for those who do.
But I still grieve...I remember the pain-physical and emotional. I remember learning there was two...I remember coming to the realization that I could have bled to death...I remember the heartbeat-and the silence, the deafening silence.
A part of me is gone-and forever will be. Those dreams you instantly have when you find out you are pregnant died 7 years ago on that hospital operating table.
I saw a quote today from Lysa TerKeurst that said "Sometimes we need the saltiness of tears to remind us how to savor the sweetness of life." I know I would take much more advantage of the blessings of my children I have on earth if it weren't for those salty tears. I wouldn't breathe in the smell of their hair quite as deep, I wouldn't squeeze them in my arms quite as hard. I wouldn't pause and take in as many precious fleeting moments.
Grief is hard, strange, and unpredictable. It still catches me off guard some days-especially being in this house. One never stops grieving-it just begins to take on different forms as the years go by.
Through the years God has given me many signs of comfort and peace. Mere coincidences to the untrained eye-but to me it's God sending comfort and reassurance "speaking" to me through His creation. It still amazes me that He continues to do so, and even finds new ways. I guess it also amazes me that within those ways He is showing His deep love for me-a love I'm still learning to fully accept.
Today I came across this picture on Facebook
In it's self it's a beautiful picture...but the phrase "Bright Warm Shore" came into my head. This phrase has special significance especially when tied to the subject of the miscarriage of my twins. I have a wonderfully talented friend Bryan who wrote a song titled "Bright Warm Shore" after the loss of one of his friends. It's a beautiful song and if I had a way I would share it with you. I had him sing this song at my Senior Chapel during college which took place one week after my loss. I hadn't heard it for a long time...and don't even have a copy of it myself. But I looked it up on the internet incase there was a chance it was out there somewhere. It was. I listened. I cried. I remembered.
There are not many tangible things I can hold onto, to take me to that place where I can fully express and grieve that situation and all it entailed. But that song gives me that thing I can cling to when I can't express myself. It gives me hope, it gives me acknowledgment of my struggles, as well as peace.
I'm going to close with a few of the lyrics from Bryan's song...I'm thankful for the hope we have that someday we will meet again on the Bright Warm Shore.
"We set on this journey, said I'm not a seafaring man. Somehow I am learning you calm the storms, I'll just let the waves crash. And I think it's got to do with the anchor we let down. It's holding us here, it's been holding for years and it's holding me now.
Salt in my wounds from an icy cold blast...a constant reminder of battles past. These giant waves seem to crash all day. And we're dreaming of bright warm shore."
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