I've been quoting John Prine a lot these days, haven't I?
You can gaze out the window get mad and get madder,
throw your hands in the air, say "What does it matter?"
but it don't do no good to get angry,
so help me I knowFor a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter.
You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there
wrapped up in a trap of your very own
chain of sorrow.
Last miscarriage, I was angry. This time I just feel numb. And defeated. Reality is starting to sink in, and I'm sad. My husband said it best: Now we're just that much further from meeting our son or daughter, the child whose name we picked out during the Clinton administration and who won't be born until well into the next administration. So much time, wasted.
I feel like the last year and a half has been an hourglass, and I keep watching the sand slip through but there's nothing I can do to stop it.
I am Joe's ticking biological clock.
Last week when I dropped my mother off at the airport, I felt sad that she might not get to spend enough time with her grandchild. This week, I choked up because there is no grandchild anymore. What a difference a week makes.
Another week I can't put back into the hourglass.
Posted by Sarah at June 19, 2008 03:55 PM | TrackBackAnd you carry those bruises
to remind you wherever you go.
Sending mental support your way.
Posted by: Darla at June 19, 2008 06:22 PMI'm sending big hugs via the internets. Feel 'em?
If we had a dollar for every grain of sand that has slipped out of the hourglass we call life, we be gadzillionaires.
I'm hoping for that spark of renewed hope to set up shop deep in your chest. If you need me to, I'll rub a couple of sticks together.
Posted by: Guard Wife at June 19, 2008 06:41 PMThe journey to our Olivia was filled with tears, heartbreak, poking, prodding, guessing, wondering and agony. We wanted to be a family so badly and there was a little person somewhere who needed one...whether it was biological or otherwise. We took the road of uncertainty and reached out to our daughter through adoption. There's no one to say we'll never have biological kids, but we have the most perfect kiddo for our family. I'll be honest, I'm one who has trouble subscribing to "it all happens for a reason." While it may, I can't always get on board with it. It wasn't divine intervention our paperwork was held up, it was the slackness of an administrator, but the end result was the little girl with the big brown eyes and crooked smile who stole my heart.
My daughter doesn't carry the name we picked out during the Clinton administration because my niece does since she was born first. Same story with other names and friends, family members, etc. Iraq came and went. But it happened for us and it will with you. I'm sure of it.
I don't know the purpose of my comment. I know it's senseless rambling. I've never met you, but my heart breaks for you. I've written comments before and deleted them because I wasn't sure if it was right nor not. I've been in your shoes...I was a mother without a child. Now I'm the best mom I can be with a 3-1/2 year old who tells me I'm her "bestest friend in da whole wide world." That is worth every ounce of heartbreak and twist and turn I encountered along the way.
You're in the prayers of a lot of people, including mine.
Posted by: Susan at June 19, 2008 09:44 PM.... I am so very sorry for you loss, ma'am....... but if there is any solace in this world, then it must be from the lyrics of Mr. Prine.....
.... you may not have found the right song yet, but rest assured, there is one waiting for you to discover....
.... I am sorry for your loss...... keep the faith, sister..... and good luck.....
Eric
I just have such a desire to tell you to keep your chin up and have patience but (and isn't it great that I said it, anyway?) I was unable to take my own advice when in your shoes. Well, one shoe because I was the one coming and going -- my husband was the stay-at-home. At any rate, I wish that a few words and a hearty slap on the back could make it better. It's called "putting the bandaid on the sucking chest wound."
Beside drinking the entire Class Six, volunteering at shelters and other places where the "yeah, it could be worse" always helped me get my head straight. But I am still not straight. So there I go again, handing out advice that I refused to take. How gay!
You know what I am trying to say.
I am Sarah's useless advice.
Posted by: Allison at June 19, 2008 10:36 PMcheck your hotmail account. I crashed a computer & am starting over on email addresses.
Know that my thoughts& prayers are with you.
huggs,
debey