Bleeding with a Broken Heart.

Meet Lion,

I’ve been carrying her {Yes, her.  I will never know but I thought our second baby was a girl.  I thought Sam was a boy.  Call it Mother’s intuition.} around with me since yesterday.

I’ve shared before but I’ll share again that the day we left the hospital after Sam was born Ted bought me an elephant we now call Sammy.  He handed me the wrapped present and when I opened it he said, “No mother should have to leave the hospital with empty arms.”

Yesterday, while Ted and I were preparing for my operation our Pastor retold the story as he remembered it to my parents.  Dad, being the man he is, headed straight for the gift shop.

After leaving recovery I was once again greeted by Ted and a gift bag.  I said, “You bought me something?” to which he replied, “Your Dad did.  He wanted me to tell you I bought it but it’s from him.”

I opened the bag to see Lion.  My new best friend.

I’ve clutched her close since yesterday.  In fact, tomorrow I might put her in an oversized bag and take her to work with me.  She’s my only proof now.

There’s no c-section scar.  There’s no extra baby weight.  There’s not nine months of memories.  There’s me.  Still bleeding with a broken heart.

I can’t help but wonder how many more times I’ll leave the hospital with a stuffed animal?  Our bed is getting pretty full.  Ted and I were enjoying Lion last night and he said, “It can’t sleep with us.” To which I replied a silent stare.  He laughed and said, “Maybe tonight but it can’t travel with us.” We’ll see about that.

My Mom text me tonight and asked how I was.  Here’s the real truth.  Here’s my reply.

“I’ve been bleeding and that makes me sad. I’m tired. I just feel sad that it’s all over. I feel defeated. I don’t feel like I want to try to be pregnant for a long time now. I’m just going to focus on me for the time being. I’m over trying to mother living children. I feel like a sad story. I miss Sam intensely. I wish this baby would have lived longer. I don’t wish for stillbirth but I feel cheated.”

Tonight I have an overwhelming need to share Lion.  To keep talking.  To be loud.  My heart is in a million pieces scattered at sea.  I don’t know that it will ever be put together again.

But like a lion, I will be brave.

I’ve told so many friends today that this loss was different because I knew going in you can live through grief.  I’ve spent the last year and a half of my life working overtime on grief work.  It’s more than a full time job.  But I know I am capable of surviving.

Yesterday my friend Kati called it salt on my very open wound.  She’s right.

But I refuse to be silent.

You will hear me roar.