Emptiness. There's no other word that better describes it. We had anticipated so much would happen in the month after Elise's birth...sleepless nights, constant diaper changes, feedings, the sounds of crying echoing through the house, and multiple opportunities to hold her in my arms as she dosed off to sleep. Obviously none of those anticipated moments has come to fruition. Instead, our house is eerily silent. There's no crying, no dirty diapers, no daughter to hold in my arms.
It leaves you feeling empty. There's a void because we spent so much time and energy preparing "space" for her. Space in our lives that cannot be filled by anything or anyone else other than her. We have tried every day to put one foot in front of the other and continue on living our lives, but it's difficult when nothing is as you expected. Nothing fills the space.
Things weren't supposed to be like this. I shouldn't be waking up to an alarm clock, my daughter should be waking me up. I shouldn't be able to sleep through the night, so maybe that's why I wake up at all hours for seemingly no good reason. I shouldn't be lying on the couch with my arms folded across my chest, I should be holding Elise. I shouldn't be wondering what to do with myself, I should be looking forward to spending every waking moment with Elise.
Nothing is as it was supposed to be. Elise's birth brought us to the top of the mountain, and we expected to stay there for years to come. Instead, we got pushed off the cliff and began a free fall into a chasm so deep we never imagined it existed. There's a tremendous void in our lives right now. No matter how much we try to fill up our lives with other things, there's still a void, a space... a feeling of emptiness.
9 comments:
She was lucky to have a father who loved her so much. You gave her a lifetime of love. I can't imagine your pain, but I will pray that God will give your bleeding heart some relief during this difficult time.
Connie Davis
Dear AJ and Stephanie:
As your mother, I wish I could catch you in your fall, kiss it, and make everything better like when you were a little boy. Now that you are a man, I can only pray that God will give you the strength to get through such a difficult time. Dad and I are always here if we can do anything to help you both.
Love, Mom
AJ,
It is so much more painful to read a father's sorrow. As mothers we are more resilient - feeling the pain from the time our children are born to the pain everytime they hit a bump in the road. But for fathers, the emotion is so much deeper. I can only imagine that this pain is coming from the core of your being. Just know that we are holding you as tight as we can in our arms and hearts. We are here for you always.
Love you - Liz
Dave and I are sending all our love and thoughts to you.
AJ, thank you for the sharing in this blog. It is a unique story, one that needs to be told as much as any mom's. I always knew that, but you taught it to me once more, on a deeper level. Coming from a family of strong women, I will probably learn a lot from you as time goes by.
I do ache for you, yet realize how powerless I am to make your pain go away or heal faster. Just know that I am here for you and for Stephanie.
It is said that God's peace is greater than the world's and surpasses all our underatanding. May God grace you with it.
All my love,
mama
I am so very sorry for all of your pain. Empty is a perfect description for those early days and weeks after losing your child. There is so much you have planned for and anticipated and instead your life is very different. I have often described the experience of losing Gavin as falling off a cliff and struggling to find our way out of a dark hole. You will begin to find your way out. I have shared this with Stephanie, but be patient with yourself and know that working through your grief is going to take time. I continue to pray for both you and Stephanie.
Amanda
Dear Stephanie and AJ,
Your letters to Elise are so poignant.
WTTW featured a story about the newborn's ability to recognize immediately her mother's and father's voices from the baby's experience of those voices in the womb.
You both gave Elise all the unconditional love and comfort her little heart could hold. She is your special angel.
Love, Judy Opat
Aj and Steph,
I am so sorry you have to endure this pain. It is not fair. I wish there were words or a prayer that could take it all from you. Elsie is in an amazing place, waiting for you to join her. Someday you will all be together again. Until then, I pray you continue to grow closer to God and let him take it all from you. We will pray for you everyday.
Love, Amy H
After reading your entry I thought of this and wanted to leave it for you:
To be a man in grief, since "men don't cry" and "men are strong", no tears can bring relief.
It must be very difficult to stand up to the test and field calls and visitors so she can get some rest.
They always ask if she's alright and what she's going through,
But seldom take his hand and ask, "My friend, but how are you?"
He hears her crying in the night and thinks his heart will break.
He dries her tears and comforts her, but "stays strong" for her sake.
It must be very difficult to start each day anew
And try to be so very brave. He lost his baby too.
I am still praying for you.
Cynthia
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