Tomorrow is the start of the most awful of days.
Three years ago on Friday, October 3, 2014, I found out at my 35 week check-up that my son, Aaron, no longer had a heartbeat. Just typing that stirs up so much anger, frustration, and distress. Never in my life have I prayed harder to God than when I was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a monitor, and not seeing a heartbeat on the machine’s monitor. God has raised the dead before, so why couldn’t He intervene in my situation? I had close friends and family praying for this exact thing the entire weekend leading up to Aaron’s delivery on Monday, October 6. Everything moved in slow motion leading up to that moment, and it was dreadful.
That following day, my husband, Adam, and I went to the local store to pick up a prescription for a pill that would hopefully do the trick to induce labor. The feeling of emptiness was entirely and utterly overwhelming. We filled the prescription and now had to wait for it, so I found myself around the store, mindlessly looking at jewelry and makeup because nothing in the world mattered to me anymore. You guys, I was a hugely 8.5 month pregnant woman waddling around this department store with a baby inside of me that wasn’t kicking me to make his presence known.
This is the last picture that Aaron and I took together with him in my womb. I hate to say that I don’t know if he was even alive in this picture. I can’t place a date or time on when I stopped feeling him kick or move. As I’m writing this, I’m feeling sick to my stomach thinking about it all. As I was walking around that store, everything felt like an awful nightmare. This surely couldn’t be my reality. Everything felt fake for a long time afterwards.
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A few weeks ago, I was finally able to sit down and watch the movie The Shack. Near the end of the movie, there is a funeral scene that shows the main character, Mack, handing his daughter Missy, over to the character of Jesus who is now burying her. This scene WRECKED ME the first time I watched it. Without a doubt, it was as close to an actual picture and description of what my heart has felt for the last three years. Tragedy, pain, grief, anger, confusion. Yet, Jesus is still there. He hasn’t left me to go somewhere else. He has been my constant anchor through this storm.
If I may, I’d like to share this picture of my heart with you. The beautiful, tragic mess that it is portrayed as here feels like closure to me in a way.
I’m also reminded of the second movie in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Two Towers. One of the kings has lost his only son in battle and in turn has to bury him. After the funeral service, he is standing outside his son’s tomb with a burdened and heavy heart. He turns to his friend, Gandalf, and says, “No parent should have to bury their child.” He then turns his face to weep and mourn.
I hate that I can relate to both of these struggles and burdens that these people carry. I know that these characters are completely fictional, but their emotions are not something that can be made up. I know the feeling of them all too well.
I also know that I am surrounded by family and friends that love me and care about me, but it’s still so incredibly lonely to grieve. I’ve found myself thinking lately, What is it like to have a three year old? I have no idea what that looks like, but I should. It would be worth all of the stress and the late nights to have my two boys with me. I hate that I dread October, when it should be a season of welcoming in Fall, pumpkins, and warm lattes with joy. Instead, I find myself avoiding the thought of it as long as I can until it’s right at my doorstep.
I started feeling October approaching at the end of August this year. I don’t know if my psyche is like 10 steps ahead of me or something, but I wasn’t even thinking of Aaron’s birthday at all, and then all of the sudden I felt this very somber feeling, as well as anger. I understand that anger is a secondary emotion, as it stems from fear. Fear of having this time of year come around again and feeling like I’m reliving the memories of the years past, and dreaming of what could have been instead.
As Aaron’s second birthday was approaching last year, this thought of celebrating Aaron kept coming to my mind. Of course I would grieve that day, that’s a given; I’m his mother. I already had an abundance of emotions before grief came into my life. I tend to wear my emotions all over my face and all the way down both of my sleeves. So when the thought of Aaron’s birthday being about celebration instead of grief, I decided to run with it. Being happy for one day would be a nice change, after all. I wanted to go to the zoo with Seth and my mom, and thought that that would be an excellent way to celebrate Aaron’s birthday, as well as having fun with Seth. I promised myself that I would have as much fun as I could that day, and really soak up every little moment, even in the midst of heartache. We took pictures in a photo booth, got a special stuffed animal for Seth to remember Brother by, and had fun looking at all the different animals in their exhibits. I’m so glad that I pushed through the pain of that day and was able to enjoy myself and those most special to me.
My dream is to compose a picture album for every year that we celebrate Aaron’s birthday so we can have those special memories to look back on.
My whole point in creating and writing this blog is to share with you all my grief journey, and to show you that, through some intense grief work (because grief never seems to be an easy thing to work through) and surrender, joy is attainable again. I can say that it’s possible because I’m living it, right now. Is everyday full of joy for me now? No, but most of my days are, and my grief has changed as time has continued to pass. I don’t have a constant aching in my heart every day like I did at the very beginning. I have by no means arrived, and I know that I’m going to be on this journey of healing for the rest of my life. I want to honor my son in any way that I can, and I feel like one of the best ways that I can do that if by writing about him, and telling everyone about my precious, sweet little redheaded wonder.