I have been struggling to write this post for a while now. I’ve been writing it over and over in my notebook, then drawing big X’s over the words, because I just couldn’t get it to feel right. There was no doubt that Q would stand for Questions, but I couldn’t articulate how much this has been a part of my grieving: questioning, seeking answers, realizing that sometimes there aren’t any answers, and learn that even if there are, sometimes no answers will ever be good enough. It is often much easier to convey what you want when you show instead of tell.
So, here are my questions:
- Why did my babies have to die?
- What did I do wrong?
- What didn’t I do right?
- Why couldn’t the doctors save him?
- What couldn’t the doctors prevent me from losing them?
- Why am I the rare statistic?
- Am I being punished?
- What went wrong?
- Am I (still) a mother?
- Am I a bad mother?
- Am I a broken woman?
- Am I still a woman?
- Does my husband blame me?
- Will my husband want to leave me for a fertile woman?
- Do my children blame me?
- Was it my fault?
- Did the flu shot harm Calvin?
- Did the resin harm Rainbow?
- Did my anxiety harm Gaelen?
- What should I have done differently?
- What haven’t I learned that makes me keep losing my babies?
- Am I meant to be a mother?
- Will I ever having a living child?
- Will I only mother children in heaven?
- Does wanting more children mean I love them less?
- Do my babies count?
- Do I count?
- What if I forget?
- Why couldn’t I save them?
- Why couldn’t I keep them?
- Why don’t I have them?
What are your questions?
I think most life changes come with their own sets of questions. The good ones, though, are accompanied with more of a sense of wonder at how one’s path led to that point. With loss, the questions become more painful, desperate even. Have you asked any of the same questions? What other questions would you add to the list?