Monday, November 19, 2007

This isn't what I expected

November is more than half over.

I expected to be sifting through my sister's maternity clothes this week, finding the perfect 8-months-along Thanksgiving outfit. I expected to be giddy with excitement at the Thanksgiving table, because I could stuff myself and justify that I was indeed eating for two. I expected to be painting a nursery blue and decorating with a sweet but masculine bedding set, all while trying to stay awake because I've been up all night trying to keep Addie and Emma in their own beds, in their shared room.

But none of this has happened.

Instead, I'm still paying hospital bills from August 31st. Each time a new bill comes, it's like someone is tearing off the scab of hurt. We've paid A LOT of money so far for our son... our son who we knew for such a short time. It seems so unfair. I wouldn't mind paying a million dollars if he had gotten to come home with us that day. I can't say we're paying for nothing because that would just imply that his life was nothing to us, and it wasn't. It was everything to us.

I went shopping this week and saw some cute Christmas outfits for the girls. I just couldn't stop myself from looking at the teeny tiny baby boy Christmas outfits though - the very ones I was going to have on hand, in case Joshua had decided to arrive a week early. It's hard for me to think about Christmas sometimes, knowing that a few months ago I didn't know where we'd be celebrating Christmas. Would it be at my parents' house... or the hospital room? I remember telling Gary more than once that I wanted a Christmas tree in that hospital room, and I think he thought I was crazy. I know that now he'd make sure there were THREE in there if it were up to him.

The last few days have been so hard. Grief is funny. It comes and goes with no warning. I never seem to have a lot of warning before it hits me, and then I feel myself get hot with emotion and there's no turning back. There's rarely a minute that Joshua isn't on my mind, but thankfully, the waves of grief seem to come less frequently. Instead I just feel like I have a veil of sadness over me everyday. I can fake it pretty well for most people, but the truth is, my heart is still broken. Sometimes I wonder if I'm struggling with post partum depression, which my doctor said I was more prone to after losing Joshua. It's hard to distinguish whether it's that or just the normal grieving process.

Someone told me recently that the way they moved on was to get pregnant again. I'm not sure. I can see how another pregnancy will bring joy, but the other feelings that will accompany it make me anxious. I never worried about my babies during either of the pregnancies with the girls. This next time might be different. I also worry about feeling like I'm dishonoring Joshua or forgetting about him should I get pregnant again. They're strange feelings that I can't explain and that don't even make much sense to me. But that said, I'm very eager to have another baby. Another baby won't replace Joshua, but I know our family isn't complete. I can't wait to cuddle another tiny baby, for Addie to be a big sister, and to watch our family dreams unfold. I miss Joshua, but I can't help but think about the rest of the plans God has for our family. Life didn't stop when Joshua died. It often feels like it should have, but it didn't. Sometimes when I'm out running errands and I see people going about their daily business, I feel frantic inside, wondering how they can't know that Joshua died. It makes no sense, I know.

Today I was going through an old check book and found check duplicates I wrote this summer, when life seemed so normal. I just stared at the checks for a second, and thought to myself, "You had no idea." I flipped a few checks forward and found checks written after August 31st. The handwriting was the same and yet it's a different person that wrote those checks.

I sort of can't wait for the day that this sadness isn't a part of everything I do and everything I think. But I don't want to forget what happened, because it's part of my life, and because God's taught me so much through it. I just wish things had happened the way we expected them to when we saw those two purple lines. None of this is what I expected.


  1. Sometimes it's really hard to understand the bumps in the path that God has given us to travel. I'm so sorry for your loss.

    Jan from

  2. I am so sorry sweetie.I deeply admire you for the way you have not lost faith throughout all of this. You are a truly strong person. I know God will bless you with many other great things.

  3. Angie, I wish I could hug you in person. I just want to reach out to you and give you a great big hug, and cry with you.

    I just want you to know that everything you wrote makes sense to me. That part about the checkbook...I've thought those exact same types of things...we think a LOT alike. We grieve very similarly.

    I'm sorry you have to experience all this. I'm thinking of you all the time.

  4. You are in my prayers!
    Please visit this blog. She's a friend of a friend and she just lost triplets at 22 weeks. You two could be a great comfort to one another.
    I love you my sweet sister in Christ!

  5. Oh Angie,

    I've sat here for a full couple of minutes, my mind blank, not sure what to say. Know you're in my prayers tonight...


  6. Hey Ang, I'm so sorry you've been feeling this way. I think about you and Joshua too...I get those same moments "hot with emotion" when I think about things throughout my days too- more often than you know. I look at maternity clothes and baby clothes with you in mind, never sure of what to say or when to bring it up with you when we're together. I know you hurt. It isn't fair. I love you though and pray for you always!!

  7. I read this on Tuesday morning, Angie, and my heart has been heavy for you ever since. So very heavy.

    I pray the God of all mercy and comfort will hold you tight as you grieve the loss of your precious Joshua.

    Only God can be there 24/7 and only God can heal, but please know you are not alone.

  8. In the midst of sadness, especially in a season where so many say "be thankful"... it is often hard. I applaud your bravery to post about your loss.

    I love the words you write though.

  9. Oh girl. I could have written this myself, if I just changed a few words and names here and there. I understand. I so understand. It's awful. It just is. And yet, life goes in spite of us stomping our feet in protest. Just know you're not alone. You're definitely, definitely not alone. Faith is definitely being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we just cannot see, huh?

  10. Dear, sweet, Angie. I continue to send you my love from afar... and am still hoping I can give you a hug in person at Christmastime.

    You are brave and beautiful--through the joy and the sorrow.

    Love you tons and tons!
    Sunny :)

  11. Angie...thank you for writing what's on your heart, it blesses me and countless others. I love you!


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