A friend of mine found this poem and shared it with me. She has been such a great friend to me and has let me cry to her and talk to her as much as I want about our baby. She is often with me when people ask me how I am doing, and she hears me tell them I am fine, or that we are doing okay. She knows I am lying and this is why she shared the poem with me.
It is that dreaded time that I should be having the baby. It feels like I am reliving the nightmare all over again. The emotions have surfaced. All of them, the sadness, the disappointment, anger, jealousy, depression, etc.
However, I am also grateful that I can look at this trial as a blessing. I feel closer to my Savior now than ever before. My husband and I are able to feel His hand in our lives and I feel like I have become a better wife, mother, and friend. I have more patience. I am grateful for the things I have learned and feel truly blessed to have been blessed to be the mother of such a perfect baby. It makes me want to work that much harder to do what I need to do to be with my family forever.
Ask My Mom How She Is
My Mom, she tells a lot of lies
She never did before
But from now until she dies
She'll tell a whole lot more
Ask My mom how she is
And because she cant explain
She will tell a little lie
Because she cant describe the pain
Ask My Mom how she is
She'll say 'I'm Alright'
If that's the truth then tell me
Why does she cry each night?
Ask My Mom how she is
She seems to cope so well
She didn't have a choice you see
Nor the strength to yell
Ask My Mom how she is
'I'm fine. I'm well, I'm coping'
For heavens sake Mom, just tell the truth
Just say your heart is broken
She'll love me all her life
I loved her all mine
But if you ask her how she is
She'll lie and say she's fine
I am here in Heaven
I cannot hug from here
If she lies to you don't listen
Hug her and hold her near
On the day we meet again
We'll smile and I'll be bold I'll say, ' You're lucky to get in here Mom,
With all the lies you told!'
My Mom, she tells a lot of lies
She never did before
But from now until she dies
She'll tell a whole lot more
Ask My mom how she is
And because she cant explain
She will tell a little lie
Because she cant describe the pain
Ask My Mom how she is
She'll say 'I'm Alright'
If that's the truth then tell me
Why does she cry each night?
Ask My Mom how she is
She seems to cope so well
She didn't have a choice you see
Nor the strength to yell
Ask My Mom how she is
'I'm fine. I'm well, I'm coping'
For heavens sake Mom, just tell the truth
Just say your heart is broken
She'll love me all her life
I loved her all mine
But if you ask her how she is
She'll lie and say she's fine
I am here in Heaven
I cannot hug from here
If she lies to you don't listen
Hug her and hold her near
On the day we meet again
We'll smile and I'll be bold I'll say, ' You're lucky to get in here Mom,
With all the lies you told!'
1 comments:
So true. It's ironic that one of the best places to be to work towards some semblance of healing can also become an unexpected emotionally excruciating environment: church. And, yes, people love you and care about you and don't want to ignore you, so they ask in sincerity how you are. But you can answer honestly with very few. And for me, even when I tried to mask my pain with stoicism, the testimonies, talks, and lessons were conducive to the Spirit (thankfully!), which triggered a flood of tears. Crying in each meeting every single week was embarrassing, and I considered seriously the idea of staying home until I could either subdue my emotions or move past my sorrow. Painful as it was to keep putting myself in such a paradoxical place each week, the Spirit offered comfort and the Lord has worked through many people to reassure me of His love and His plan. It's interesting though, I think, that 2 1/2 years later I still find myself not fully feeling, if that makes sense, during a lesson. Stoicism has transformed itself from an initial acquaintance to an old friend. Not that I aim for deceit, just that the ongoing pangs of separation from my babies seem not to be understood by anyone except those who also have lived through such a hardship. Megan, I am so, so sorry you are hurting. I admire you for being courageous enough to be honest about your pain in writing, especially when honesty in conversation is, in fact, an impossibility.
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