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Once I had a little rose closed up inside my womb
But Jesus called her to come home before my rose could bloom

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Grief

Grief is a strange creature. It comes and goes as it pleases, seemingly more heightened in the face of friends' joy. It pricks you when you want to be happy for someone else, reminding you of all that could have been.

A friend who is expecting a baby at about the time that Donna Rose should have been born posted ultrasound pictures of his little girl and I just bawled. I would be doubly sad if he and his wife lost their little girl the way I lost mine. So, why does it pain me to hear his marvelous news? Why can I not share in the joy that new life brings?

Maybe it's because my little girl would have been three weeks old today if she had lived. Three weeks ago, I was asking them to give me an epidural because the physical pain was so great. I was tired, I was dizzy from the other medication they'd given to dull the pain, and I was grieving, knowing that my beautiful baby wasn't going to make it.

There is no epidural for grief.

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