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A cut finger is numb before it bleeds.
It bleeds before it hurts.
It hurts until it begins to heal.
It forms a scab and itches
until finally, the scab is gone
and a small scar is left
where there once was a wound.
Grief is the deepest wound you can ever have.
Like a cut finger, it goes through stages and leaves a scar.
~Author Unknown~
When I was a teenager, I had to have several stitches near the top of my forehead. Despite the doctor's best efforts, I ended up with a scar. Most days, you can barely see it...especially when it is covered up with makeup. However, there are some days that no matter what I do to cover it up, it stands out. It flares up...becomes pink and puffy...and anyone that looks at me has to notice. Over time, my grief has become the same way.
When I think back to that day...those awful moments we stood waiting for the doctors to turn around and tell us that everything was going to be okay...I can only believe that we were completely numb. We pleaded with God for Aubrey's life...we begged the doctors to keep trying...but we stood there...upheld by strength from somewhere deep within. The numbness carried us through the next few days...planning the funeral, standing next to our baby girl while hundreds of our family and friends came to pay their respects, holding Aubrey one final time, even watching as they carried her casket to the spot where she would be buried. Numbness gave us the ability to sleep, to eat, to laugh...despite being faced with the worst possible fate any parent could face.
As the numbness wore off, we began to realize the depth of our pain. We began to understand that no matter how hard we prayed before we went to bed each night, we weren't going to wake up and find that this was just a terrible dream. We began to realize that our baby girl was gone forever. With this realization came a pain that we hadn't been able to feel before. Tears flowed continuously...sometimes for just a moment...sometimes for days on end. Our hearts began to ache...knowing that no matter what we did, there was always going to be something...someone...missing.
Our family and friends were incredible during those first few months, but we eventually realized that no one could truly understand what we were feeling other than those who had also been placed on this journey. We joined a local support group and immediately felt connected to others in a way that we had never felt before. We were able to share our special stories of Aubrey...over and over again...and we were able to listen to others as they shared the same feelings of grief that we felt. We could feel our own load lighten each time we attended a meeting...and as we let the pain of others into our hearts, we, ourselves, began to heal.
Though it is true that some healing has taken place, we will never be completely healed. Losing Aubrey was a blow that cannot be bandaged up and fixed. Just like the scar on my forehead, our scars from grief will flare up from time to time. On most days, we are able to get out of bed...go to work...smile and laugh...even find ourselves enjoying the moment...but there are other days where the scar is tender again...where it flares up and the pain in our hearts becomes outwardly visible once more. We imagine there will always be times like this...days that make us wonder what would have been, days that bring back special memories we had with Aubrey, days that bring back those terrible moments when we first began this journey. Yet however heartbreaking those moments are, we know that they won't last forever. Because we are healing, there will be rainbows in the middle of those clouds...and when the storm passes, we will be able to remember Aubrey with a smile once again.
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Aubrey's second angelversary was a dreary, rainy day. It was so fitting that the outside world was just as gloomy as we were on the inside. We spent most of the morning in bed...unable to get up and face the day...despite the weather that matched the hurt in our hearts. Finally, though, we managed to get up and made our way out to the cemetery. We took out a couple of gifts...a little teddy bear, a pink cross with the word "hope" on it, and a cross made of flowers. We also took out a small stone that my mom had found and given to us when they were down for Thanksgiving. It symbolized the day perfectly...words that were wonderful reminder that she will always be remembered...no matter what is said...and even what is not.
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November is always cold as the winter weather begins to settle in...but Aubrey's third angelversary seemed even chillier than normal. However, when we finally got ourselves together and went out to the cemetery, we were pleasantly surprised that the sun started to shine. Not only that, but we heard a bird the moment that we walked up to her grave. Brad and I looked at each other...almost in disbelief...and before we could say anything, we heard it again! It made being out there a little easier...feeling as if our little girl was just trying to tell us hello.
After the cemetery, we went out to the Angel of Hope statue. We met our support group leader there to donate money from our family for the tree that will be planted in the garden around the statue. She gave us this adorable teddy bear called "Halo." It had angel wings and a little halo on top. It was such a nice gesture...and something we'll keep to share with Aubrey's baby sister when the time is just right. |
Later that afternoon, we had an appointment with my OBGYN. It was so odd to walk in there...on that day...grieving the loss of one child...and at the same time, celebrating the new life inside of me. We decided to donate grief materials to his office so that they had something on hand to give to parents in situations where they find out they've lost their child...the same packets we use every year with Aubrey's story and various resources to help them through their journey, the One Year Book of Hope devotional by Nancie Guthrie and the newest CD by Steven Curtis Chapman titled "Beauty Will Rise."
We spent the rest of the evening at home together surrounded by the light of Aubrey's special butterfly candle...praying that hope would indeed be the theme for the moment...not only for us and our new little girl we were looking forward to, but also for those who will begin their journey down this path at some point in the future. We know Aubrey continues to watch over us and look forward to the day when hope will be restored and our family will be whole once again.
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