I’ve been meaning to write for awhile now, but my continued fear of others and myself has kept me silent for too long again. This sharing never gets any easier for me. Fear of hurting people and fear of being misunderstood can keep people in a lonely silence. I want to share a journal entry I wrote a few days ago on Thanksgiving. On Thanksgiving I wasn’t feeling particularly thankful…After examining myself, I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t sad, or depressed…but that I was standing back at angers door. I had to remind myself again, that its ok to be angry. Anger is an acceptable emotion when your child, your hope, your daughter has died.
Jason and I feel so keenly aware of our empty home, especially lately. We were so ready for a life change with Ella, and we had planned and prepared for the next stage of life. Laying on the couch tonight, Jason commented that he feels cheated…cheated out of being a father in the way he expected. Cheated out of all this time without our daughter. If I’m honest I feel I was cheated too. The silence of her birth and death has only grown and gotten louder for us, not quieter. As we see other babies grow, our longing for the hole that only Ella can fill deepens. The empty room, quiet hallways, hassle free life, date nights, clean rooms, good sleep, and clean floors only remind us of all that we have lost. Even as we anxiously await the birth of her brother, I cry and mourn for the relationship they will never have here on earth. We hear the silence at all times, and we are keenly aware of it’s presence. Sometimes I wonder if others hear it too.
I know I should be grateful, but I don’t feel very thankful
Thinking about my little girl, she should be here now
Two Thanksgivings past without her
She has made me so lonely
She was born in silence, and the silence has remained
It is deafening
Do people realize or hear the silence of our home?
Oh it aches, we try to distract ourselves and make some noise
But we will never hear her song
I’m angry again, I didn’t realize it until now
I’d almost mistaken my lack of tears for apathy
Attributed my silence for time gone by
But all the while I’m boiling underneath again
I’m so angry, and the anger doesn’t go away–often comes out and is misplaced
I’m angry she’s not here
I’m angry at the silence I feel we are forced to live with
The emptiness of our hearts and home is evident to us
The sound of our silence is the only sound we hear