April 21, 2012

These Dark Hours

I awoke early this morning and the reality of what happened just hours before greeted me with a pain in my chest and tears in my eyes. It’s not a dream. It’s nothing that can be taken back or undone.

Today is the second day of these dark hours.

Yesterday we found out that we have lost another baby. This is our sixth baby, the one we had the greatest hopes for. All the circumstances appeared to be in our favor: we gave my body a year of rest; we were treating a blood disorder I just found out I had this winter; I was feeling nauseous and so, so tired; and I had made it past the 8 week mark- the furthest my body has ever allowed me to carry a baby.

So when we went to see the midwife at 9 weeks, 2 days pregnant, there was a level of anticipation in the room that this could be a good visit. And there it was- death on the screen. again. No heartbeat. No sign of life. It appears that this baby stopped developing at 5 weeks but my body did not get the memo.

When we got home it felt so empty, so lifeless, so void of the excitement that once was there just hours before; it still feels that way. I walked through the house and thought, I want to be anywhere but here. I still feel that way, but then again, where else would I go or what else would I do?

This house has been the setting for many a dark hour, and so it will be again as we wait for this baby to pass physically from my body. Though it is painful, it can be a welcome distraction from the sorrow that surround us.

I know it's early in the process, but this feels like the end of the road for us- there is a feeling of finality that is the undercurrent that is moving us along. Maybe that is why the grief of this feels so much stronger than it has before. It feels like the hope of having a baby of our own has floated away and that just adds to the sadness of all of this.

An Invitation to Mourn

There is need to remind me that GOD is in the midst of this- I know that. Or that you are praying for us- to be honest, it’s of little comfort now. But if you want to sit in this with us- if you want to be a part of our dark hours, then please do.

There will be no funeral or memorial service, and while it might be awkward for you or for us, if you feel led to mourn with us, then come over and we will sit and mourn this together.


Adrienne said...

Justine and Jason, If I lived close, I'd come sit and mourn with you, though we haven't seen one another in years. My heart is aching for you guys and your intense heartache. I know words don't fix it, so I won't try to say any. I am mourning with you from CO. There is no distance in sadness and loss. Love always, Adrienne

Susan said...

Justine, I also won't try to find the words our language does not provide. You are in my thoughts and prayers. You are loved.

Anonymous said...

Jason & Justine: I will weep with you! Though many miles separate us and years have passed since we've been together (laughing or crying or worshipping), you are in my prayers, in my tears. Love, Jessica T.

Anonymous said...

I'm so saddened to hear of this little one's passing. I'm grieving a recent miscarriage, and it hurts. I can't imagine six. Praying for you with tears.