I saw her yesterday.
She was shopping for clothes, just like me.
Except she didn’t have any little ones hiding and playing in the wracks. In fact, when my toddler kept ending up in front of her, she gave little response beyond a brief glance down before moving on.
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In my much younger years, I would have assumed that she did not like children. I would have thought she was rude. I would have figured she’s not the friendly type to engage with a random child who crossed her path.
But now I know better.
I know exactly who she was. It was written all over her behavior and appearance.
I saw her.
She was well within childbearing years and clearly had no children. And, although it was hard to get a good look without being obvious, I’m pretty sure I saw a wedding ring. She and the friend she was shopping with were polite to the cashier but both were rather short on conversation and smiles.
My mind tried to convince me that she was just snobbish. That she disliked children. That she was a career woman who had no interest in family life.
But I know better.
I saw her.
She was me.
She was me when my first baby died in my womb and it hurt to see other women enjoying being a mom. She was me after a molar pregnancy left me angry and averse to the idea of pregnancy for a while. She was me after I lost two pregnancies inside of one month and my heart was broken more than ever before.
She wasn’t snobbish. She didn’t hate children. She wasn’t trying to be rude.
She was hurting. She was broken. She was jealous. She was grieving.
She wasn’t ready to come face-to-face with a cute little toddler waiting for a smile from a stranger who looked like a mom.
She wasn’t ready to see a mom who had clearly had two successful pregnancies without any problem (or so it seemed from her perspective).
She wasn’t ready to look me in the eye with all that I’ve been given and feel the nakedness of all that she’s had taken.
She just wasn’t ready.
I saw her.
I wanted to speak to her. I wanted to give her words of comfort. I wanted to offer something hopeful. I wanted to tell her that she is me – many times over the past seven years.
But I knew that I could not. I could not be so presumptuous. I could not touch that raw wound. I, a mother of two present children running and giggling amongst the clothing wracks, could not possibly be so cruel as to tell her that I understood.
No.
I saw her.
I knew her pain. But I could not get close to it without making it hurt more.
There was only one thing I could do.
I could be patient and calm as my toddler wiggled to get out of my arms while I stood in the checkout line. I could hold in my sigh of frustration at having to spend the majority of my shopping outing chasing my two children around the store.
I could make sure she did not see me as ungrateful and ignite her anger over the injustice of it all. I could at least save her from that.
And I could do one more thing.
I could pray for her. I could pray for her comfort. I could pray for her healing. I could pray that she will be the me that has children some day.
I saw her yesterday.
She had a very different sense of style, a very different height, and probably a very different personality.
But she was me. In her heart, broken and bleeding … she looked just like me not so long ago.
You will run into her too. At the store. At the restaurant. At church.
You will find her avoiding interaction with your children. You will find her turning away from you without making eye contact. You will find her remaining deafeningly silent as the cashier talks about the lack of inventory in the children’s clothing department.
You will run into her.
But will you see her?
If you are suffering from the grief of pregnancy loss or struggling with pregnancy after loss, please check out the resources below.
Posts by Mama Rissa:
- God Cares About Your Miscarriage
- How to Process Miscarriage Greif and Preserve Baby’s Memory – From Mamas Who’ve Been There
- Miscarriage Grief: Two Years Later
- Trying to Conceive After Miscarriage
- To the Mama Going Through Pregnancy After Recurrent Miscarriage
Resources by Mama Rissa (enter your email address below to gain free access):
- Baby Remembrance Journal: I Will Never Get to Hold You, But I Will Always Love You
- Pregnancy After Loss Affirmations From the Bible
Other Resources:
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