Monday, April 20, 2009


Abigail had passed away late on a Saturday evening. We entertained the thought of going to church the next day because we felt the need to be in the presence of fellow believers and friends. We were tired, though, and there was much to do, and we weren't certain that we were ready to face the questions or even the silence of those who didn't know to ask.

We decided to go ahead and clear out of the little house we were staying in, even though we had been told we could stay as long as we needed. I wasn't sure I was ready to go back home. I knew that it would be difficult, but I also knew it wouldn't really get easier. Some things you just have to dive right into, and I believe dealing with grief is one of them.

With Christmas coming upon us quickly, we thought it would be good to stop by Toys R Us on the way back home from Atlanta. Again, it seemed like life was going on too effortlessly around me. Why didn't everyone else look like they could barely muster the will to even breathe? Why the carefree smiles on so many faces? Why the frowns and complaining about mundane things like having to wait in line or not finding that certain toy? Didn't they know they had so much to be thankful for? And then there were the babies being pushed around in buggies or straddling their mommies' hips. I remember feeling the aisles closing in around me.

I had decided to stay up near the front of the building as my mom and Loren and the kids wandered about the store. It had only been a week since I'd had a C-section, and I was still easily tired by too much walking. Suddenly I felt so lonely in that crowded place (and if you can think of what the stores look like on the last weekend before Christmas, you can imagine how many people there were). It seemed like we were there for hours.

I found a flat packed box and sat on it while I waited, and I tried to smile at the shoppers as they passed me. As I sat there, I wondered what Christmas would be like this year. I tried to envision myself portraying excitement as our children opened presents. I practiced feeling happy. Above all, I knew that I didn't want painful memories of Abigail to be the focus of this special celebration. Instead, I wanted us to celebrate her life as well as our Savior's.

It was something I had to practice repeatedly, not just that year, but in every year since.

1 comment:

Everyday M.moms said...

Happy Mother's day, we wish you the best of all blessings and we have made a little something for you:

God bless you,