Monday, July 7, 2014

Weeping

I have learned a different kind of weeping these last two weeks.




I have learned the broken cry of empty, longing arms, of a shattered heart
The moan of aching, leaking breasts
The keening wail of motherhood deprived.




My husband tells me he will never forget the way I cried when I lay on the ultrasound bed, sixteen short days ago, and I know I will never forget the quiet voice of the Iranian doctor who answered my frightened query with a gentle no– the no that broke us and left us sobbing. And we wept with every parent in the world who has ever lost a child, and we wept our own unique tears for our two unique little girls, Lucy and Livia.




The crying goes on long after the sobs subside and the tears cease, long after the breasts dry up and the belly shrinks, long after all that there is to be done is done and you are left with... nothing left to do. The weeping continues, your heart bleeding out your love and hurt. My girls are safe in the arms of God but I am walking the valley of the shadow of dead dreams.




I wonder if you get used to feeling empty.

And I weep.

1 comment:

  1. Meredith, I just read your blog post, and that is the answer to how you are doing, of course.... How else would you, could you, be... I understand emptied and empty. I understand keening and leaking and aching and longing. My heart goes out to you, beautiful Meredith, and I wish I could wrap my arms around you. Karen

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