I have no idea what strength is. Some folks think it’s the ability to appear in full control of your emotions. Others believe that real strength is allowing yourself to go through your emotional process without regard to what the watchers may think. Again, I have no clue what the answer is. All I know is I have this pain and it’s not just in the womb where my 7th child just vacated. It’s a pain throughout my heart where I’m supposed to love and a pain in my knees causing them to be weak so it’s hard to stand.
6 pregnancies and 7 babies, none of which could make it to this world with air in their lungs. I gave birth to Seven on Monday, December 8th, 2014. He was the first one we knew to be a boy. There’s so many reasons losing him hurts so much. At four months pregnant I thought we’d at least make it through my husband’s birthday, my birthday, and Christmas. Shoot, I think we even thought we’d get through the New Year. As chance would have it, three days before my husband’s birthday and eight days before mine, little Seven couldn’t stay. We would’ve gladly gave up celebrating our birthdays if it meant Seven would’ve had a chance to see his. Still the celebrations are minimal. There’s just no energy, not much happy.
There’s no doubt that part of the heartbreak is that we were barely able to put our hearts back together after losing twin girls in March. We named them Angel and Angelica. I’d like to believe that wherever the girls are, they will look after their little brother. Still, we are without the three of them. An empty room that never got a chance to transition into the baby’s room. See we were all too wise and knew not to start the paining or the pulling of carpet just yet. However, there’s a piece of me that wonders if maybe that’s why we lost our children. Maybe we never believed they would get here and therefore didn’t love them enough. Then I get upset with myself because I know that’s nonsense. We loved them each, even the ones we lost in first trimester bleed outs.
So I’m angry, I’m crying, I’m slow to move on. I’m scared of future pregnancies as I see I am getting accustomed to the pain. Still I’m prayerful and hopeful that these tragedies don’t mark the theme of my journey. I typically keep these kinds of things about myself quiet or reserved for private conversations. However, I can’t fathom knowing there’s someone else who knows this struggle and allow them to feel alone in it. There is a tug of war between emotions. You don’t want to give up but then you wonder if you’re killing yourself pursuing this dream. You don’t want to be the bitter, emotional wreck that denies yourself all love, but then you think it unfair that you don’t get a pass for punching random people in the throat.
So no, I don’t know what strength is. People tell me I’m strong but I’m never quite sure why they think that. I’m somewhere in between showing the world how hurt I am and showing the pain that it can’t defeat me. On any given day I lean towards either side. My greatest hope for now is that my children see us from above and love my husband and I as we love them. So maybe today I lean towards being undefeated.