Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Too Beautiful to Forget

Last night I couldn't sleep. Actually, I don't know if it's that I couldn't sleep or that I didn't want to sleep. Yesterday was a good day. Not many tears were shed, my Little Guy finally took a nap (first time in 4 days) allowing me to nap as well and we had another yummy meal delivered removing that burden one more day. Despite it being a good day, it as an awful night. It all started when I told my husband that it hurts to breathe. Even when my thoughts are not all consumed in the memory of my little boy and the fact that he is no longer with us, it hurts to breathe. It is a constant pain in my chest. A physical reminder of my broken heart.

I decided to read from my book and found some comfort in doing so. But then I started reading another woman's blog who has been through a similar situation as me. This led me to another blog, which led me to another blog... both of which had gone into labor around 21 weeks. My broken heart was throbbing. It's bad enough knowing I had to go through something like this, but to know that others have suffered and are suffering a similar loss was too much for me to handle. I finally just turned out my light and sobbed. Around 1:30AM I was still awake and my Little Guy had gotten up out of his bed. This was a first. I went in and laid him back down. Oh how I wanted to just lay down with him, hold him close and cry myself to sleep.

The weird part about this whole grief thing is that there will be a few good days and then one day (or night) when everything comes crashing down again, brought on by the simplest of things.

On Sunday I went to church. It was too soon. My plan was to sneak in late and leave early in hopes to avoid people. That didn't happen. Instead, I stayed for the whole thing. I was a basket case by the time the third meeting came around. I happened to see a cute pregnant woman who was new in our ward. She was introduced and asked when she was due. With her words, "I'm due at the end of March", I lost it. Michael's due date was the beginning of April, and I couldn't help but think about how this woman was going to have a sweet baby in her arms at that time and I would have nothing.

It also didn't help that I saw several mother's hushing and cuddling their babies. My arms longed and my heart ached for my baby.

It's not that I resented the mothers or pregnant women I saw. In fact I believe I can truly say that I was happy for them. Happy that they weren't hurting. But it was definitely a reminder of what I no longer had, and I knew it was too much too soon.

So here I sit today in my sweats. I'm grateful that it is beyond freezing (currently -2 degrees) and that my husband's car wouldn't start again this morning so he had to take mine. That means I am left with a great excuse to stay home and do nothing.

While reading one of the blogs last night, I came across this quote that is so very true "Some say you are too painful to remember, I say you are too beautiful to forget". It may be a hard thing, this grieving process, but having Michael was more than worth it all.


  1. I am so sorry Hil. For the next little bit your emotions WILL be on a rollercoaster. Totally normal. It is okay to cry...it is a way to help heal. Love ya.

  2. Dear one, my heart goes out to you. I hope you won't rush to get back into things. Your heart needs to rest and heal. May you experience the peace and comfort you need at every moment.

  3. Beautiful post - my heart hurts for you every time I read your posts - but I have no doubt that finding these posts on your blog is healing to many women who experience similar losses.

  4. Oh Hilary. I am sitting here crying and my heart aches for you and your family. I cannot and don't want to imagine how hard it must be for you. I am counting my blessings and pray that you may count yours. I know you have. You have a beautiful boy and a great husband to help support you. Know that I am praying for you.
    Last night I hung out with a girl that had a baby girl, and she died shortly after she was born also. That was over 2 years ago, and now she another boy who is 1 year old. Just don't think that you won't have another child. You will, when the time is right. Keeping being strong.

  5. Hil I am so so sorry I wish there was something I could say or do to make some of the hurt leave even for a moment...just so you could breath easier. After 5 years I still find myself crying over my beloved nephew but then I remember that God asked the best Angel to watch over my family and it makes me smile....hugs...hugs...hugs.....♥♥♥

  6. Again, thanks for sharing your experience. It makes all of us stronger. You continue to be in our hearts and prayers. You are an inspiration. Take those days you need - wear sweats, eat chocolate, drink cocoa, kiss your little man!

  7. hil
    your heart will never be the same, but it will mend. the loss of sweet michael is the fabric of who you are and will always be with you. the anniversay of coopers death is 8 days away and the i still dont understand grief, the triggers or how one minute i am fine and the next minute my heart aches so badly. grief is a constant state of change.

    your honest expression of how you feel will help you heal, this i know. stay strong, listen to yourself, and lean on those who love you.

    sending you peace and love.

  8. Oh Hil, your posts make my heart ache for you. I admire your strength and honesty. I stumbled across this blog about a year ago: babymckallister.blogspot.com I was devestated for the mother b/c her baby was due only one week after Luke was born. I thought it was a sweet tribute to her stillborn son.

  9. I know what feeling you are talking about... to me it felt like there was an elephant sitting on my chest and he wouldn't leave... I'm so sorry. I too would have about 3-4 good days and then the world would come crashing down. I still have bad days, probably about one a week or so. It does get a little easier. I think that's why I keep coming back to your blog is because I know what you are going through... and I want you to know that it will get easier... somehow. Let yourself have those nights where you have a good cry, let yourself go through this. With time will come peace, and emotional understanding. I can now look at new babies, and babies who were born the same week as mine was suppose to... I can even hold them and I'm fine. Time does heal but it will never fully go away because you love your baby. I'm so sorry. I have a boy the same age as yours and he has been the biggest blessing. A little boy that comes and wraps his arms around me when I can't hold it together anymore and makes me feel loved. I'm glad that you have your little boy to comfort you... and don't feel bad about him seeing you cry, you're just teaching him how to be sensitive ;).

  10. I have to say of all the potential experiences in our life, burying our son was not one I had anticipated. The past few weeks have been daunting, filled with the challenges of everyday life compounded by loss and grief. I've been searching for a comparable experience but have yet to find one, perhaps this is one of the many reasons we have experienced this trial...I think so.

    Amidst all these challenges I look at my wife and can't help but feel grateful that she is at my side. Hilary has been a stalwart and steadfast Wife and Mother, maintaining her faith and hope, and demonstrating her gifted ability to love unconditionally, despite her own grief. I cannot say enough about what her example means to me.

    To my wife, I love you. Thank you for your friendship, your support, and your love. I am truly blessed because you are in my life.

  11. ugh. on a much smaller scale i am remembering what it was like the 2 years it took for us to get pregnant with brennan. i can't say i was happy for people when they told me they were pregnant. i would cry through church, sob through the temple, and then cry through my prayers every night.


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