Here for a Moment

As I sit here in the first quiet moments of my day, I open my laptop and start working. I begin with responding to emails, working on my lists, checking my social media accounts, I even start working on a photo project, I literally have 15 tabs open. And then, in an instant, my world is rocked by sad news. I am left speechless, my heart races, tears well up in my eyes and I can no longer see my computer screen. It is not an easy burden to carry, to be a mother who has a baby in heaven. Whenever someone asks me how many children I have, I think three. I want to say three. But I say two, because on this earth, I only have my two daughters with me. The sad/uncomfortable/awkward looks I get from people when I tell them that I have a son in Heaven are just unbearable at this point. 
Tonight I was told my cousins lost their baby, their little baby girl was due to enter this world later this week. When I heard this, my heart broke, my stomach dropped, and my mind raced. What should I do? Should I go see them, maybe tomorrow? It is now that I remember, as it all comes back to me, all of the emotions become fresh. 
As much as I love my big family and their support I remember not wanting to see anyone. In fact, I remember looking over and seeing my aunts and uncles in the hallway and turning away. I was not ready for visitors. I was not ready for small talk or big talk for that matter, I did not want to look at someone else's sad face. As I think back to those incredibly difficult first few days, weeks, months after losing Gabriel I just want to run to them and be by their side and help walk them through this.
I want to tell them my story, so they know that everything they feel is okay. That it's okay, not to be okay.
I want to tell them that I know flowers don't help, that nothing is going to help you, except each other. I spent 7 days in my apartment with my husband, walking past the vacant nursery, just sitting and watching back to back seasons of House. As weeks passed, my husband went back to work, and I sat in my quiet apartment, my cave, and hid. I didn't attend a family function for over a year. I hated every single pregnant lady I saw. I cried, I looked online for support groups, but nothing helped. No one has the same story and I thought the only person who would understand me, is someone who went through the exact same situation as me. I wanted to meet someone who had been married for a year, who had an easy pregnancy, had an emergency c-section, heard her son cry, and then hours later held him as he took his last breath. I have yet to find someone.

I have to admit, it's strange being on the other side of this. I can see now, how some people felt awkward towards me. It is an uncomfortable topic, it is hard to comprehend, except, now more than seven years later, I do know. I know exactly how she feels and I may be the only person she knows, who does know. As part of my healing process, through prayer, I realized that I was given this story for a reason. I was given this life, this heartbreak, to help others like me. I will give them their space and visit soon. I will continue to share my story of heartbreak and healing to anyone who will listen and to pray for strength for the families of these angel babies.