09 August 2014

her arms grew tired as she held the world in its place.

I am exhausted these days.
This has been a season of my life where I have been asked to do much to help others. And not always directly asked, but I have given myself that responsibility. Which may be part of the problem. I can not say no. I feel unable to carry the duties and assignments and callings and souls that have been entrusted to me.
And I wish there was more relief.

This may go without saying, but my depression has been worse lately. I think it's mostly due to environmental influences and pregnancy hormones, but I still have to talk to my doctor about upping my dosage. We have another sweet soul (a girl!) joining us in November. I don't know how I will handle it all.

I still miss our other baby. The one that was here for the briefest time. I don't know if it's society saying that the little one was just tissue or my own fear of opening up because of people's disappointing reactions in the past, but one of the most heartbreaking things about that baby is that I feel I can't mourn her loss. This baby that is coming in November isn't our second child, it's our third. But most people will never know that.
I've been praying to know more about that little one. Because of experiences too sacred to share over hyperspace, I feel she is a girl. I've also learned that she must be the most selfless spirit. It would have been hard for her to come in May because of things that were happening in other people's lives. And if she would have came in May, this next baby wouldn't have been able to come in November. If she would have come in May, it would have been harder for my brother Jason to go to Idaho to see my grandma after seven long years of being apart. I haven't been able to hold her, but she has already taught me so much. I ache to go to the temple, where where I am and where she is overlap, so I can be as close as possible to her.

This is just a season. I will figure out how to better carry my load and what things are extraneous. 
But it is still heavy and it is still hard.


  1. I think it is so hard to mourn what some people don't even consider a loss. I think you write about it so beautifully and gosh, won't eternity be beautiful? When everyone is whole and together and perfect. I'm so sorry for your aching heart.

  2. You are so so wonderful, and even when it doesn't feel like it know that you are a wonderful mother, friend, wife and human being who is capable of anything thrown her way! I wish I were closer, not that I know I would be any help, but it's hard to have dear friends so far away when you want to help them!

    Never let anyone make you feel like Baby #2 was not a loss. You have every right to grieve, and feel sad and hurt and not understand. If you ever need to talk about the baby you can talk to me. I have never experienced a loss like that, but I sure can listen.

    I love you bby!

  3. I would be devastated if my wife and I were to go through a miscarriage. I hope you are able to find the healing and love you need.

  4. I have met many wonderful families lately who always mention their children in heaven when they talk about the number of children they have. You have every right to mourn sweet baby #2 and honor that memory. She's always with you, even if you can't hold her. I wish I could share a cup of tea with you and talk about all of this in person. Love you always.

  5. my mother had 4 miscarriages in between having 4 healthy babies. when i was little she would talk about my 4 brothers and sisters who i would meet in heaven later. when i was a kid it didnt make sense to me and i thought it was a little strange, but now that im older im really glad my mom was open about all of her babies and not just the ones who came to stay. i admire your strength and honestly, amy. and i love that you put a caitlin connolly piece to start this. her art has so much power. (and is slowly starting to take over my house.)