Tuesday, September 08, 2015

Two Weeks

8-25, Abigail's Memory Box from the hospital

It has been two weeks since Abigail was born.  Two weeks isn't so long, but the day before Monday August 24th was a lifetime ago.  In two weeks my iv bruise has nearly faded away, my milk has come and gone.  Physically I'm pretty much back to my normal pre-pregnancy state, other than I am still nearly 15 pounds heavier, and can only wear maternity pants.  Talk about an insult, to still be wearing maternity clothes, but have no baby.  Who knew that the simple act of getting dressed each morning would be like a daily slap in the face.

Like I said, I am pretty much physically back to normal, but I think there are now some scars that will never completely heal.  Things that you can't see from the surface.  I feel like a complete fake, trying to keep it together, and act the way that you are suppose to in public in front of people, like nothing ever happened.  The loaded question came today, I was asked how many children I had by a perfect stranger at the nail place.  I answered four, but for once didn't elaborate.  After all no one wants you to bring down their day.  No one wants to hear you just had a stillbirth.  No one wants to deal with someone who randomly burst into tears with absolutely no rhyme or reason.  I don't even want to deal with me right now.  The me who has unwavering faith and believes without a doubt the truth that He is real, and He is returning for His people, and we will all have peace in Heaven with Him.  So why doesn't my daily walk reflect that.  Why if I know these things, and feel these things as strongly as I do, why am I like this?

But how can I act normal like people want and expect, like nothing ever happened, as if Abigail never existed?  Because she did and she mattered.  I don't want to forget her, and I don't want everyone else to either.  How can I function without feeling like it's just a show?  How can I grieve without wallowing in it, and throwing one of Bro. David's legendary Pity Parties, complete with poor me punch, and sad sack sandwiches?  How do I find a new normal?  I suspect that it is something that I will be grappling with for some time.

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