Split Wide Open

"Split Wide Open"

Oil on canvas, diptych

2007

by me

I am split wide open

My heartache is on display

My mask is coming back slowly

But somedays it's difficult to fake

How important my life used to seem

All the dreams that I hoped for one day

Art school, grad school, painting was my life

The colors have all faded

Into tones of grey and white.

I thought I knew heartache

a few years ago,

but I realized the preface

could not compare to this empty hole.

I have a scar that just won't heal

It takes time, they say

But do they know my pain runs deep

that reminders hit me everyday?

My mind used to think in colors,

and create murals of landscapes in daydreams

I have been changed, wanting ever to escape

From the dry reality around me

And in all my heartache

I can be thankful that my time with her was real

I am better for having her visit my world

She graced my life gently, briefly,

but still she was here.

I am split wide open

I want this wound to be healed

I know the scar will always be there

For true love can never be concealed.

Secret Garden Meeting - October

The Secret Garden is a place that is only open for bereaved parents. It is our garden, our secret place to come to. A place to remember our children with those who understand us. It is a place to just be, without worry or fear of not being accepted. May you feel safe to share your hearts here in the garden.

So this meeting we would like to talk about where you are. Where are you at in your grief. Has it been years or just weeks since you lost your baby. How are you feeling. How do you hope you will feel in the future. Have you found any peace at all?

This grief no doubt has many unexpected turns and twists. The longer I'm on this journey to hopefully healing, the more I realize the permanence of this loss. More than anger and frustration, I am being swallowed up in sadness. The guilt has been left behind for the most part, along with being angry at God or anybody else. It's just sadness right now. But I'm not even a crying mess, like I was a few weeks ago. The sadness creeps in while I'm teaching, driving, working, in conversation with someone, cleaning, sleeping, dreaming, anything really. It's always there in the back of my head, and it is the burden that weighs me down. I get to wondering if it will always be this way? 

I am in some twisted way learning to accept this fate. She's in Heaven, me still here, but even in acceptance the loss is wearisome. The sadness is derived mostly from how far time has taken me away from her life, and those moments I got to know her. Lately, it's not so much over the things I missed out on with her. Don't get me wrong, those things make me sad when I get reminded, but that's a bottomless pit of disaster every time I go there. Because there is no end to what I missed out on had I had the chance to raise her.



So this is me. Sad. Sad. Sad. Along with this sadness, there is a burning desire to cherish those moments I had with her. Even in the pregnancy, after hearing all the bad news, I still enjoyed her so much. I never let myself stay sad when I was carrying her, or watching her in the NICU. Maybe I am making up for it now? Who knows... I feel that there are never enough ways to honor her life. I strive to honor her life through mine, living in the moment, and loving life. 


I'm crazy excited about getting to start her memory garden in a few weeks. And by next summer I will be able to crack open my paints again! I want to be free again to remember my daughter and not be constrained by sadness. My loss was her gain, and I want to live like it.

So, have I found peace? Yes. I really have. The peace is ever present as I keep my eyes fixed on the One who can heal me completely one day.

Secret Garden - September Meeting

This month, for the Secret Garden Meeting, we are focusing on what has helped us through the loss of our babies. To participate you can go to The Secret Garden Meeting website or visit to read what has helped others. This group meets once a month to offer comfort, support and love in a safe environment.

For me, it has been a handful of things. Mostly it has been the sufficient grace of God. There are times, no doubt, when it seems like I am walking alone, but He always has a way of showing me just how much He cares and knows how much I hurt daily. He has filled this rough path with promises of hope and comfort through His Word.

Another thing God has given me is the commitment of my husband's support through this time. Given, men just grieve differently (topic for another day) but he is just there for me. When I am down, he likes to make me smile and picture Jenna just having a time of her life. Other times, like lately, he will be sad with me. I like that.

Blogging and connecting with other women through this blog community has helped me on so many levels. It has shown me that there is a world of women hurting and shattered over the loss of their child(ren). It takes my mind off of me. This journaling has also been therapuetic to allow me to write my heart out.  

Talking about her is the best thing on planet Earth! The people IRL who will actually listen to me talk about her without shriveling up in fear are far and few between, but God has been good to put a few people out there. I love talking about Jenna. She is my world, even now. I wish I could tell the world how we should be allowed to talk about our babies who left this earth too soon. Making us feel uncomfortable or avoiding the subject only adds to the loss we are enduring, like pushing her into nonexistence. It hurts so much. So here is my safe place. The community who will listen and understand. The women who yearn to share their stories, memories and heartbreak. I am so thankful for this blogging community.


Honestly, there are few things I like doing now because social activities are still out of the comfort zone for me. I feel like a hermit, but that's just how life is right now. Home is a safe place - far from newborns, pregnant women, careless words, careless people... so I guess in a way you can say being home has been a help to me. I have never been a homebody until now. I used to be the one who liked to always be on the go and run around even if it meant just window-shopping or running errands. Strange how life changes.

Glass House

This glass house might break; don't ask me how I'm doing

I might really tell you how much I'm really hurting

You say you miss the old me but she is gone and buried

I'm learning to find the peace of mind where this glass house can feel safe again

The place that used to stand so strong is now moved with the slightest wind

Ever mindful of the pain that endlessly wounds and weakens the foundation

This glass house is transparent and clear, unable to hide

the fragments left over and the emptiness inside

The warmth and security left when the veil fell down that day

I have no strength to mask the heartache that is on display

While I don't want to share my grief with all

It's impossible to contain the pain, the guilt, the loss

So I am destined to identify with this fragile state of mind

A glass house in essence, but fragile in real life

Don't expect me to take the steps you think I should be taking

I'm fragile and I could break if I rush because you make me

The heart that once knew perfection is buried, you see

And this glass house can't help but show this burden of grief I carry.

Franchesca Cox

In Jenna's Name

In honor of my sweet Jenna's life, I have started creating Hope Collages for babylost mamas. It seems there are never enough ways to memorialize their lives.

I can do this for children of all ages, up to 18 years old. If you have lost or know someone that has lost a child due to miscarriage, neonatal loss, illness, tragedy, or anything really, I would be honored to create one for them. I would like to be able to do this for as long as I can.

There are a lifetime of words that will never be spoken because we were asked to say goodbye too soon. This is a way to piece all those words together that so often remind us of our angels. I do this free of charge and the turnaround time is 5-7 days.

Please visit Abiding Hope Collages at: www.hopecollage.org if you are interested.

Here are some examples of the hope collages...

Hope???

"And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three..." I Corinthians 13:13

Yes. In the midst of my broken, oh-so broken heart it is possible. Not because of anything I have done or even asked God for. My reason of the hope that I have is all because of my truest friend, Jesus Christ.

Everyday is a horrible reminder of the life that could have been. Having been almost four months into this nightmare of the life almost lived, it has exhausted my entire being. My will to fight and live and breath. But out of nowhere here it is.

Hope. Abiding Hope.

He pours it into my soul in buckets of sweet rain. I don't look for hope as I feel like hope is a way of leaving her behind. But when He just gives it to me, I can't resist. It feels so nice to have a glimpse of the life that survives this aftermath. He gives me hope when I least expect it, when I don't deserve it after all my questioning and anger and when I least understand it. He lifts me up just like He said He would. I don't know what my hope will bring, but I know that it is something that can be waited for.

When everything inside of me has failed, I have an abiding hope. One of my favorite definitions of the word abide is found in webster's dictionary.

abide: \ə-ˈbīd\ 1 to endure without yielding
 
Without Yielding! We have a blessed hope. We really really do. We can bring our shattered hearts and all the parts of our lives that don't make any sense to Him. When everyone around us seems to be forgetting our precious angels or when people shrivel up in conversation when you tell them yes, you had a child but they died, He has not forgotten or left any pieces of our lives behind. He is ok talking with us about our angels.

Tonight, even if it lasts for only a moment, I am going to dare to hope. I will not pretend I am ok. I will have a broken heart the rest of my life. I will always wonder why. But since Jesus made a way for me to hope, tonight I will. For as long as I can. There is no harm in hoping.
 
Lately I have had a bunch of rough days which has probably been reflected in my posts. Since I have shared my rough days I wanted to share my hope. Abiding Hope.
 
Hope for a healed heart.
Hope to go Home one day.
Hope to have a healthy baby one day.
Hope to see our last enemy conquered, death.
Hope to see my Jenna again.

"But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings..." Malachi 4:2

We're doing this...

That's what Mrs. Marsha (my pastor's wife) told me when we knew she wouldn't make it. It helped me. Today I just realized that my grandmother is taking Jenna's death pretty hard. Today's her birthday and tomorrow Jenna will have been gone a month. God is still good. I have been contemplating a series on emptiness. Emptiness can be devastating but it can also be healing. In fact feeling empty helps me realize my need of the Savior. I guess the Lord can't fill my cup until I'm empty. Empty of myself, my thoughts, and my ways.