Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Not okay

Why is it when people ask how I am doing I say okay? Sure I just had 3 weeks go by that were bearable and a few times I was honest when I said I was okay. Maybe I am okay, maybe this is my new okay, feeling like a am the only one experiencing a freekin' tsunami while everyone else lays on the beach in the sun. I was looking out the window this morning at the trees. I was just telling my mom moments before how I feel sick about going back to work next week, because a heap of stress is waiting to dump on me. As I blankly stared out the window the large tree in our backyard came into focus, suddenly it's nakedness became very evident (as if I hadn't noticed it's leaves falling)and I began to feel like that tree looks. Naked and vulnerable before the world. My life is like this season, all my beautiful leaves have fallen off and I am left standing like that tree to face the cold bitter winds of sorrow. I feel vulnerable beyond my own recognition. I don't want anyone to see me like this, I don't even recognize myself. Just like that tree there's no hiding my bare branches. My leaves represent all the moments I will not get to spend rocking my Audrey to sleep, brushing her hair, hearing her voice, giving her advice, and the million other things moms do with their daughters. My leaves are in the ground now, never to return to me in this life. I can only pray that I can weather this storm and hope that someday I will see spring and summer in my life.I know waht to look for, I've seen them before. Right now though, I am NOT OKAY! Because I don't have the courage to say it out loud I must write it down. It is not okay with me that my baby girl is playing on the streets of gold instead of here with me! That is selfish but true. My heart is broken. Can you imagine? Someone says, "Hi how are you?" I reply, "Heartbroken, how are you?" Or, "Not okay, thanks for asking." Do people really want to know? Are they still just making conversation when they ask me or did that magically change to a sincere question when we lost Audrey? It depends on the person, but my pain has made me too stupid to notice the difference. Suddenly I feel as though I don't belong in society because I don't know how to answer our culture's token question. And God forbid someone NOT ask, that would only confirm my status as an outcast. And what about meeting new people, when they ask, "Do you have children?" That's a loaded question. The other night we went out to celebrate a friend's birthday and the question did come up when we met some of her other friends, I kept it simple and said no. Am I chicken? Maybe. Perhaps I want to keep her and her memory all to myself and only talk about her to those I know and love. No, I'm just crazy - 'cause if that were true why would be posting this for total strangers to read! It is what it is. How do you define "have"? I just wasn't ready to break the news - we are unable to see our children, they live in heaven.

God has promised me certain things and I have to stand on faith that he meant them for me to have here on earth. Someday I will share those things with you. But for now I must tread through this pain and have hope for my future.

"For I know the plans I have for prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11


  1. Michelle, I found your blog through Kelly's blog. I want to let you know every EVERY emotion you have outlined in all three posts are completely normal, whatever that is. Our stories are so similar and I remember being lost, feeling abandoned by God, alone, and not recognizing myself or my world for that matter. I lost my Jenna on May 18 this year. She lived for 13 days but she fought hard for her life. We also stayed blindly optimistic after being in hospital bedrest for 2 weeks, up until the day she left. I did not get to hold her until she died. I don't know if I will ever be really okay with what God has allowed to happen in my life, but when I read stories like yours and Audrey's my heart breaks all over again. I want you to know you are not alone. There is so much I can relate to with your words, and I wish so much that we never knew this pain. I have found writing on my blog to be therapeutic. This post in particular struck a chord with me, I wrote a poem called "Glass House" and it talked about how people ask how you're doing and how they often cannot handle it. Here is the link if you would like to read it:

    You are in my thoughts and prayers. Sending you *big* HUGS

  2. I found your blog through another blog I was reading and I have to tell you that I have been so blessed in just having read your first few posts. I lost my daughter almost two weeks ago, she was born at 23 weeks and 2 days. She lived for almost 10 hours and then died.
    The Jeremiah 29:11 verse at the bottom of this post really hit home for me. Your post also made me think about today and the fact that I had to for the first time answer a strangers question about how many children I have.
    In the last two weeks I have read a lot of blog and I am so encouraged by your faith in God and that you share so openly.

    If you are interested in my story and that of our daughter, Emily Faith, who is no longer on earth, here is the link to my blog.

    thank you so much for sharing and being willing to let a perfect stranger read your thoughts.