Brian has been urging me to get back to blogging again. I told him I couldn't yet, because I would have to write about our loss. And he said that I did NOT in fact have to write about it, but could just move forward with something else. Write about Fletcher. Or Rowan. Or whatever. But I can't just move forward without acknowledging our baby that we just lost. I know it's not a fun topic for a blog post. I know this post won't be funny. Or witty. Or flippant. Or fun to read. It's also not going to be fun to write. But I HAVE TO WRITE IT. Because I can't move forward without pausing in my current sorrow. And the sorrow is overwhelming right now. I'm trying not to wallow in the sorrow, but to allow myself to pause in it. I don't want to become petrified by it, but just pause in it. I don't want to become lodged and paralyzed in it, but I will pause in it. I have no idea how long this pause will last, but here I am. Paused.
And the facts of the matter are that my water broke at 20 weeks pregnant, and two days later I went into labor and had a baby boy many weeks too soon to allow for his survival. And I've searched mentally for any reason that this happened, but there seems to be none. My mind keeps washing over the few days before my water broke, wearing my memories smooth. Did I feel pain? Did I feel cramping? Did I... cause this? And of course the "answer" is NO. But my heart nags at the question in such a way that I can't help but revisit the days before I lost our baby.
Our baby. Was a boy. We named him Cormac Michael. He was 7.8 ounces and 9 inches long. He was beautiful. He was tiny, a miniature of a perfectly formed baby boy. It broke our hearts to see him before it was time. It broke our hearts to say goodbye to him before it was time. We held him and kissed him before it was time.
And it happened on the first day of 2014.
Ruthie, my heart has been praying for you and Brian and Fletcher and Rowan since I saw your photos on Instagram this weekend. I'm just so heartbroken for you all. I know words can feel hollow, but please know that we're lifting you all up and I hope you also pause in God's comfort through these coming days.
ReplyDeleteI loved reading this..."pause in God's comfort." To pause and feel the pain is a necessary part of the healing process, but to pause and feel the comfort of God's love is where the actual healing lies. I'm so glad to see someone else advise this very important step!
DeleteMuch love to Ruthie, Brian, Fletcher, and Rowan.
~Aunt Nell
You have every right to take this pause and to write from your heart. I am there for you no matter what. Xoxo.
ReplyDeleteI´m so very sorry to hear this, should never happen to anyone. :-( I´ll keep you in my thoughts. <3
ReplyDeleteawe dear, i think of you and your family constantly. my heart aches daily.
ReplyDelete-whit
So, so sorry for this loss. You are so strong and I'll be thinking of you and your family.
ReplyDeleteIt breaks my heart that your year started this way. I know that sweet boy knew in his heart that he was so loved. I cannot imagine the pain you are feeling, but please know that you're in my prayers daily. xoxo
ReplyDeleteHugs. Many, many hugs.
ReplyDeleteSo deeply sorry. I know how heartbroken you all must feel, and I'm sure it is difficult to write about here in this longer format. You did a beautiful job honoring your baby, and I know that 2014 will end with joy for your family. Love to you Ruthie.
ReplyDeleteI can't even imagine the pain of seeing your perfect boy and having to let him go, Ruthie. I have been thinking about you and Brian and the kids. My love to you all. Jo
ReplyDeleteI feel that the word "comment" is inappropriate for this heartfelt message about the life of a beautiful and perfect piece of you. So instead of "comment," please accept my "prayer" instead.
ReplyDeleteDear God,
Please continue to help heal Ruthie, Brian, their children and their families from such a difficult time of loss, sadness, and discomfort. Please care for them as they look to move forward, pausing and listening for what's next. They have known the pain of losing a son, just as you did. Give them strength to face the times that they're hurting, and give them peace of mind and heart as they look to you to keep a loving watch over their dear one, Cormac Michael. He was made in love by you, and he was loved by his family, if only with them for a short while. Please watch over them here on Earth as they are loving and daily examples of your unending love for all of your children.
Amen.
I love your prayer and I will use it in my prayers. Thank you, Karen .
DeleteOh, Ruthie, my heart is breaking for you. You must be hurting so much right now. I'm so sorry you've had to go through this. Cormac was deeply loved, and I am sure he felt that somehow.
ReplyDeleteThinking about you every day, friend.
ReplyDeleteI read this post the day you published it but didn't comment because I didn't know what to say. I still don't know, but I hope the love and prayers I'm sending somehow help in the tiniest way.
ReplyDeleteI don't have words either. Just prayers, which I hope bring you peace everyday. It takes a very strong person to pause in a moment of sadness. I don't think I could do it. But I am sure it will tremendously help in the process of healing. For you, and for the strength you provide your family.
ReplyDeleteOh Ruthie, this just isn't fair. I'm glad you wrote about it because it did happen and you had a son. He will not be forgotten and he will always have a place in your hearts. Wishing you all the best right now and really wish I was closer xx
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness. This is so awful. Your beautiful blog makes me feel like I know you a little, and my heart breaks for you.
ReplyDeleteLife totally sucks sometimes.
Praying you and your husband would Know peace in your hearts again, in the right time. ❤️