May 10, 2011

Taking Away The Pain

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

I felt like I was doing better. Of course whenever I say I'm doing better, it hits me. Again. This time, though, I felt like I hit a new low.

I'm not sure what to do sometimes to take the pain away. All the normal things come to my mind such as: drinking, taking drugs, making myself puke, stuffing my face with donuts, and other things that I won't mention.

So in the end, the only logical answer is to cry. Of course there's the usual, I miss my baby cry, and this is when Salesi will say, "It's okay to cry..." and, "You can hold me instead." (Which by the way, holding a grown man is not the same as holding your baby, as if you didn't know this already.) And then there's the aching cry when I feel all alone and completely abandoned because there's no one I can talk to and nothing I can do to take away the pain.

I've done a lot of silent crying lately as well. This is when I really feel like keeping all the misery to myself, and not even letting my husband know about it. I'm not exactly sure why sometimes I care whether or not Salesi hears me, but I think it has to do with me being embarrassed for the reason of my crying.

There's been a couple of times in the past when I've seen pictures of friends' new babies on Facebook or received a Christmas card in the mail from a family who recently had a new baby and I would go into the laundry room or bathroom to just cry and let it out. This is something that I will ever be grateful for: Knowing that it is very painful for some women to be around babies who have either lost theirs or haven't yet had their own.

But more recently, the reason for my cry, I feel, was even more embarrassing than that, and I certainly didn't want anyone to know about it. For the first time, I felt like there was a small part of me that was mad at God. Just the thought of that makes me want to cry even more. This went on for a few days, until I just knew the only way to settle it was to pray. (Again, you don't realize how hard it is to pray, until you've lost your child and are having "one of those days".)

So, I went into the bathroom and knelt down and just kept repeating, "Please don't let me be mad at you", over and over. God has given me way too much for me to ever have any reason to ever be mad at Him.

Last night Salesi and I were talking, and he said something about, "To much is given, much is required". I definitely feel like I've been blessed beyond measure with an abundance of gifts and talents that I could never complain to God for the trials He's given to me. I imagine before this life, I agreed to all of my challenges, knowing He would compensate them with abilities and blessings.

And in the end, everything I've lost on this Earth really will be compensated, if not here, then in the here-after. (It's just really hard sometimes to always remember that little fact.)


  1. I'm crying right now reading this. I'm glad you're coming over here today.

  2. Grief is so dang complex. All these crappy emotions that we hate, all this envy, anger, sadness, bitterness, fear, doubt. I've even felt laziness. Too lazy to hope, too lazy to try, too lazy to feel.
    It isn't fair, is it? There's nothing we can do or say that makes it "all better."
    I hope this valley you've come to passes quickly. I hope you can find your way up.


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