Monday, September 28, 2009

I Am Wherever You Are

I have been operating way outside my comfort zone lately and it has me all out of sorts. I hate feeling this way.  I am mostly unbelievably happy and optimistic about my blog, but sometimes I'm riddled with doubt.

I find this emotional rollercoaster that I'm on has me feeling a little off-kilter. We were at a party this weekend and although I was having a great time, I still sometimes feel a little uncomfortable when there's a lot of people around, mainly when there's a lot of people that I don't know well or haven't seen in a while. Unfortunately for me, and anyone standing next to me, when I feel uncomfortable, you just can't shut me up. I do not stop talking. I'm always thinking, "hmm, what can I talk about next?" and I talk and talk and talk and then start to feel uncomfortable by the fact that I'm talking so much.

I had to remove myself and my nervous chatter from the party for a couple minutes and went back to my apartment alone. I sat on the couch staring at the book that I have displayed on the mantle in our living room. It's called, I am Wherever You Are, (In the light of loss, paintings by N.A. Noel). It's a beautiful book that was given to me by a close friend a few weeks after Isabel was delivered. The paintings and poems still move me to tears.

I had received the package while headed out one day to a follow up visit at my OB/GYN's. When I arrived at my Dr's office, I was left sitting there in the waiting room, surrounded by all of these pregnant women for what seemed like an eternity. It was a difficult time. I was still carrying an extra 30 lbs and looked like I had just had a baby, but I had no baby to hold. My body didn't realize that my baby had died so I was still producing milk, but had no baby to feed. I didn't know what to do with myself around all of these pregnant women, so I decided to open up the package I was sent, and once I did, I saw this beautiful book sent to comfort me and I began reading the excerpts.

"It is not always ours to understand why morning passes to midnight without full chance of day. But in the darkest hours, the light you were given, however briefly, will shine above the stars and in the eyes of an angel". - P.S. Points

and then

"The sweet Angels take us to peace, never fear, quietly, lovingly, the Angels come." - Marshall Stewart Ball

and then

"The time may be delayed, the manner may be unexpected, but the answer is sure to come.  Not a tear of sacred sorrow, not a breath of holy desire, poured out to God will ever be lost, but in God's own time and way will be wafted back again in clouds of mercy, and fall in showers of blessings on you, and on those for whom you pray." - Saint Therese

I was moved to tears and felt so comforted by these beautiful poems and paintings. I also felt comforted and loved and understood by my friend. The book was a perfect gift and one I will treasure for the rest of my life.

It's been two years, and naturally as time passes, the sting of it all eases. The birth of my son has brought us all great joy. I don't know who I would be now if he were not here with me. I am so grateful for him.

Still, there are times when I get these waves of intense grief. The other day someone announced that a little baby girl was born and I got all choked up. This morning at kickboxing Sarah McLaughlin's song Angel was playing during abs and I got all teary again.

"It's gonna be ok Mommy," was what my then, 2 year old daughter, said to me one day soon after Isabel's delivery. I had been resting in bed and she came into the room to see me.  I was so sad and here my amazing little girl was comforting me. 

And she was's gonna be ok. Because, although there are still days like today, where I think of Isabel and feel a little sad, I know that I am blessed.

I am blessed in that, it is on most days, whether at the park with my daughter and son, or reading to them and mostly in times when we are just sitting still, and one or both of them are on my lap, that I am overwhelmed with feelings of profound joy and love and gratitude.


  1. Thanks for sharing both about the pain and about the acceptance and even joy that has come since losing Isabel. It is good sometimes to step out of your comfort zone.

  2. Thank you for sharing, Anne Marie. The words must be so hard to get out, to put down here. I hope doing so brought you a little comfort, knowing we are reading and thinking of you.

  3. Hi Emily and Alicia,

    Thank you so much. It does feel good to write about her and it's true, sometimes it is good to step out of our comfort zones. I woke up today and felt so much lighter. It feels so good to share. I want to assure you that things are ok. There are just some sad days and I think that's the way it goes. Writing about her is very therapeutic. The memory of holding her and having to let her go is painful. I'm so grateful that my sister and parents were there too and got to hold her and kiss her and say goodbye too. I'm grateful that they were there for my own sanity as well.. it may sound so odd but it's like, see, she was real... they got to hold her and touch her and see that she was real. It's like, the baby was not "lost", she didn't just disappear. Does this make any sense?