Writing is an opportunity for me to organize my feelings. This morning I woke up feeling so heavy with emotion that I couldn’t function until I stopped to write. This feeling of “heaviness” reminds me of the book, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. The young boy in the book, Oskar, often refers to emotionally distressed people as having “heavy boots”. I have “heavy boots”. You see, when I hurt deep, or get very frustrated, my thoughts and feelings get scrambled and I go from one feeling, or thought, to another without clarity. Organizing my thoughts by writing them down helps me work through them. It helps me be able to remove myself from all of my emotions, just long enough to put myself back together, by seeking and finding some solace.
Journal Entry, Part I: February 20, 2018 (16 days since…)
Last night I fell asleep wishing to see our baby Marshall in my dreams. I’ve went to bed with this same wish for several nights now. Even if just for a few seconds, meeting up with my baby boy in my dreams would be so peaceful. If I could hold him in my arms, watch him open his little eyes, feel the grasp of his tiny fingers around mine and give him a kiss on his cheeks, which look oh so much like his daddy’s, oh how sweet of a dream that would be. The thought and possibility of meeting him in my dreams is how I manage to fall asleep these days.
Sleep is how I take a break from my sorrows, shut off my brain and turn off the water works. It’s like my own drugless sleeping pill. I would say that I hope the effect of this drugless sleeping pill never wears off. But, if I must wait a long time to meet him in my dreams, or if I never do, I’m afraid that this too will just become one more item on the infinite list of things I want with my baby boy, but can’t ever have.
“TRUST IN THE LORD WITH ALL OF YOUR HEART, AND LEAN NOT ON YOUR OWN UNDERSTANDING; IN ALL YOUR WAYS ACKNOWLEDGE HIM, AND HE SHALL DIRECT THY PATHS.” PROVERBS 3:5-6
The mornings don’t seem to be any easier than the nights. Within just a few short minutes of waking my brain will be thinking about the bassinet and the baby that should both be next to my bed, but aren’t. That’s if I don’t wake up already feeling my belly, which immediately reminds me that there is no longer that beautiful life and baby growing inside of me – and that I didn’t get to give birth to life. I’m learning to quickly distract myself, whether by writing in my journal, reading a book or scripture, or getting ready to leave the house to go do something.
Are the hours in between the mornings and nights any better? Yes, sometimes, but not always. Car rides by myself are basically a standing invitation for my sorrows. Especially since my car radio seems to have a technical issue that causes it to turn off by itself. I lose the distraction of music without even realizing it, until after I am already in tears. However, even though it is difficult and I will cry, talking about our baby boy and about losing him, and sharing his birth story somehow helps me make it through the day.
I’m not sure why talking about all of this helps me; maybe because it allows me to release some of the pain which gives me a break from the hurt, for a little while at least. And maybe this break from the hurt allows my thoughts to wander somewhere else without feeling guilty about it. So, when I spend the day with someone who doesn’t want to talk, or at least listen to me talk about it, or with someone I don’t feel like talking to about it, it’s kind of like torture.
…I always try to end my journal entries in a positive place. I did today, but you’ll have to go over to Part II of today’s blog to read that. Please see “Growing in Faith: My Feelings Are Normal, Kings 3:16-28”
Life After This 