Time Doesn’t Heal All Wounds

Last week was my first day back to work since I’d been cleared by my doctor earlier this week since becoming ill while pregnant, and losing our little angel baby, Sephora.  I have to say, at first, I was pretty excited to be able to get back to see my coworkers and get out of the house for a few hours.  When I pulled into the parking lot, my heart started to race.  I said a little prayer to myself to keep me calm, and walked inside.  I slowly made my way through the front doors and said hello to the few people I first saw.  I answered the “How are you” questions with a very brief, “Ok,” and kept moving.  As more and more people started entering the building, I was greeted by the hugs, the “You look amazing” responses, and the same “How are you” questions that I discovered I wasn’t really prepared to answer.  It was quite overwhelming at first.  The last time I was in that building, my ankles were so swollen and I had a definite pregnant belly with my precious little Sephora safely curled up inside.  As I inspected my uniform and looked down at my now flat belly, I was reminded that she wasn’t there.  I did my best not to make eye contact with anyone unless I absolutely had to.  I didn’t want nor did I need any more attention than I was already getting, whether it be negative or positive.  I fought back tears for what felt like hours as I worked.  I said another prayer to myself asking for the peace that eventually came when I exited the building.  If I could have gone into a far corner and cried to myself, I think I would have felt much better.

When the work day ended, I headed home to my husband.  As I spoke to him over the phone on the drive home, I heard in his voice that he was doing just about as well as I was, unfortunately.  I said another prayer to prepare myself for a very emotional evening at home.  Neither of us were in the mood to eat because we were feeling incredibly depressed.  Sleep eventually came, but was interrupted by many tears.  The cry of an infant in the house behind us filled our bedroom throughout the night.  We miss her.  We miss our precious little baby.  She would have been 6 weeks old on June 29.

The saying, “Time heals all wounds,” is a bunch of crap!  I thought time would make this whole process easier.  Our time with Sephora was stripped away when I got sick with the preeclampsia and HELLP Syndrome.  We lost her 8 weeks before her due date…8 weeks sooner than we would have liked.  Her story strengthens me, but I wish we could have had more time.  Now that we’ve had 6 weeks without her, it feels like time is going no where, fast!  I can’t say I feel like I had her yesterday.  I feel like we’ve already spent an eternity without her.  I go through her pictures every day.  I listen to the recording of her tiny little cry.  I talk about her birth and the feeling of the doctor lifting her out of my body.  I long to stroke her hair and sing to her again.  I wish I could kiss her perfect little face again.  Instead, I have just little memories.  Her blankets, hats, one outfit, locks of hair, hand and foot prints, hospital bracelets are all tucked away in the closet.  I have all of that, but I don’t have her.  Time.  Time doesn’t do anything!  Time won’t bring her back.  Time won’t make me forget her, and I pray I never do forget!

So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you have to endure many trials for a little while. These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold — though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.” 1 Peter 1:6 – 7


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