The Heart Knows
Around the 28th of every month, I start to lose my mind. Whether I realize it our not, I begin feeling very low, inexplicably weepy, and moody. When I mentioned to one of my dearest mama friends how I was feeling one day she said, "Well, tomorrow is the 29th." That's it. I felt awful that I hadn't remembered myself- afterall, he's on my mind all day, every day, shocked that my head was responding the way it was, and I told her so. A loss mama herself, she said gently, "The heart knows, Meg. Even when your brain doesn't, the heart knows."
The last couple days I've been pretty weepy. I chalked it up to a combination of pregnancy hormones and a crappy diet. Last night, as we all sat around the table eating dinner, conversation turned to the upcoming New Years Eve and if we were going to have a mini-party and let the kids stay up late. My husband mentioned last year and I reminded him of what we'd done, which I remembered profoundly because I was in the throes of hyperemesis. I was still pregnant then. The thought punched me in the head. Asher was still alive then. Last year. Right now. He was still alive. Tomorrow's the 29th. 11 months. It's been 11 months since he was born, lifeless, while I was strapped to a table unconscious, my husband in the waiting room, and neither of us ever saw or held him outside the womb. As the thoughts tumbled in, they stayed and weighed heavier and heavier on my heart. I forced my head to focus on what the kids were saying and kept going through the motions as I finished my now tasteless dinner. Then it happened. A kick. HARD. Right to my lowest right rib. My boy. My sweet boy who was healthy, alive, and growing in my belly. Not Asher. Not a replacement. A very different, unique, beautiful rainbow. A little one whose name means, "Peace." We purposefully chose the name because for months as we mourned and dealt with other very real struggles and I fought the PTSD that controlled me for months, we found ourselves constantly asking God for peace. Along with healing, provision, and learning to walk with our daily pain, he gave us this rainbow. Peace.
After dinner I sat with my laptop to check my email and my rainbow was going wild in my womb. Clearly he likes my homemade meatballs and steamed broccoli. I had this sudden driving urge to buy him something. I started browsing baby clearance on Old Navy to use the gift card sitting in my inbox, but nothing was weather appropriate. My husband snuggled up to me and asked what I was up to. I asked if we could go to Target. "Why?" He asked. I burst into tears. Eventually I composed myself and told him tomorrow's the 29th, it's almost January, and I just felt like I needed to buy clothes for the baby who would get to wear them even though we have months left until his birth. To Target we went. I love my husband.
The last couple days I've been pretty weepy. I chalked it up to a combination of pregnancy hormones and a crappy diet. Last night, as we all sat around the table eating dinner, conversation turned to the upcoming New Years Eve and if we were going to have a mini-party and let the kids stay up late. My husband mentioned last year and I reminded him of what we'd done, which I remembered profoundly because I was in the throes of hyperemesis. I was still pregnant then. The thought punched me in the head. Asher was still alive then. Last year. Right now. He was still alive. Tomorrow's the 29th. 11 months. It's been 11 months since he was born, lifeless, while I was strapped to a table unconscious, my husband in the waiting room, and neither of us ever saw or held him outside the womb. As the thoughts tumbled in, they stayed and weighed heavier and heavier on my heart. I forced my head to focus on what the kids were saying and kept going through the motions as I finished my now tasteless dinner. Then it happened. A kick. HARD. Right to my lowest right rib. My boy. My sweet boy who was healthy, alive, and growing in my belly. Not Asher. Not a replacement. A very different, unique, beautiful rainbow. A little one whose name means, "Peace." We purposefully chose the name because for months as we mourned and dealt with other very real struggles and I fought the PTSD that controlled me for months, we found ourselves constantly asking God for peace. Along with healing, provision, and learning to walk with our daily pain, he gave us this rainbow. Peace.
After dinner I sat with my laptop to check my email and my rainbow was going wild in my womb. Clearly he likes my homemade meatballs and steamed broccoli. I had this sudden driving urge to buy him something. I started browsing baby clearance on Old Navy to use the gift card sitting in my inbox, but nothing was weather appropriate. My husband snuggled up to me and asked what I was up to. I asked if we could go to Target. "Why?" He asked. I burst into tears. Eventually I composed myself and told him tomorrow's the 29th, it's almost January, and I just felt like I needed to buy clothes for the baby who would get to wear them even though we have months left until his birth. To Target we went. I love my husband.
Comments
Post a Comment