We all have our thing; we’ve all been through something we didn’t want to or didn’t think we could handle. Or at least that’s what I think.
We’ve all heard some form of an “I can’t imagine” statement.
I’ve had my share of these statements over the last year.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through”
“I can’t imagine what you’re feeling”
Some days the flood of feelings and emotions I go through are enough to leave me wondering what I’m feeling. Today I’m feeling brave, terrified, and, for some reason, willing. Willing to open up, willing to share, and willing to help you imagine what I’m going through. So here goes…
Imagine a piece of your heart being stolen and you can never get it back
Imagine that piece of your heart being stolen for no reason; your baby died and there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent it, that her cause of death is nothing more than a “best guess”
Imagine living with the guilt every day that something you did caused her death, the guilt that you couldn’t protect her
Imagine that getting out of bed is one of the hardest things you do every day
Imagine having to get out of bed every day because there’s these little people who need you more than anything else in the world
Imagine being in a place so dark and so lonely you don’t know how you’ll escape
Imagine not wanting to escape that dark, lonely place
Imagine planning memorials rather than birthdays
Imagine all of this while being pregnant with your potential “rainbow baby”
Imagine being terrified every day because there is no guarantee that pregnancy will result in a living, breathing baby in your arms
Imagine the flood of emotion that hits when you feel “lucky” to hold that living, breathing rainbow baby in your arms
Imagine never wanting to let her go because you know you’re not in control and you can’t protect her from everything
Imagine missing out on life because it’s just too much to be out and to have to talk to strangers about how many kids you have
Imagine all this when you ask me how I am and I reply “I’m ok”
Because I am ok, most of the time.
I’m ok until I think about planning my baby’s memorial day and not her birthday
I’m ok until someone asks how many kids I have
I’m ok until it’s my birthday, my other kid’s birthdays, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Christmas, or any special day
I’m ok until someone says the wrong thing
I’m ok with being ok
Ok is as good as it gets for now
And for those times I’m not ok, when I find myself in that deep, dark, lonely place I remind myself of a song lyric I’ve carried with me for over 20 years…
*The sun is gone but I have a light – Dumb by Nirvana
Check it out on YouTube