For the past 10 years, I have kept a book filled with quotes, sayings, and verses that I like. After Maggie's death I spent hours reading that book, finding comfort in others' thoughts. Some people have ways of writing things that are so beautifully and eloquently written yet they are so simple.
This past week my mom ordered some books about grief and loss (which is a whole other post--grandparents' grief--the loss of a grandchild and the inability to comfort your own child). One of the books that she ordered was Still. by Stephanie Paige Cole. Cole is a poet and artist and has started a website after her experiences with loss. On this website she shares her poetry, her art, and mission to help others who have experienced the loss of a child.
Please visit her website for more beautiful artwork, poetry, and memorials to children. In fact, she has even started the Sweet Pea Project, where people can donate blankets to hospitals for infants.
I wanted to share a few of my favorites:
I know you more intensely
then I have ever known anyone.
We shared my body.
I kept you warm and nourished
and helped you grow.
There was not one second of your life
that was not spent in my presence.
I held you your entire life.
But still I feel like there was so much about you
that I never knew
and now I'll never know
blood from your body
has pulsed through my heart, my veins
of course i am changed
An excerpt from:
Why I Cannot Join a Mom's Group
And you don’t realize how good you have it
There are things worse than sleepless nights
with cranky infants
There are sleepless nights alone
And seriously. Sometimes I want to kick people in the teeth.
When they complain about how uncomfortable they are.
Or how big their cankles are.
Or how they will never get their figure back.
Or how their boobs hurt.
Or how they got 2 hours of sleep last night.
Or how the _____ is such a mess because of the kids.
I realize all of those things are bad. Not wanted.
But the alternative is worse. Way worse.
I'd take a lifetime of cankles, sore boobs, and no sleep if I could have my Maggie back.
And all I want to (sarcastically) say is, "Wah. I feel sorry for you. I'm sorry you were able to conceive and nurture a child the way it was supposed to. I'm sorry you have a child that is showing normal, miraculous, wonderful signs of life." And then I want to say, "Wanna trade?" (don't take this the wrong way, I wouldn't trade my Maggie for the world).
I feel a littly jerky about this. But, seriously, folks. I know you need to complain, but with your complaints, periodically send words of thanks up to God. Send thanks that you can complain about those things. Because I know there are thousands of women who would trade spots with you in an instant. Without a second guess.
I agree with Stephanie Paige Cole--there are way worse things than sleepless nights with cranky infants. Sleepless nights alone. They suck. Trust me.