The Nights that No One Sees

It comes on gradually throughout the day and by evening I am quiet, thoughtful, moody. By bedtime I feel angry -- at the dishes that are overflowing from the sink for the second or third time today, at all the chores and responsibilities and stressers in my life, and at the lack of solitude and time for myself and the interests I want to pursue.

I go to bed, overheated from anger and doing yet another load of dishes.

I wad up in a ball and press my eyes -- left right left -- as if I mash my hand against my eyes enough times the tears won't be able to escape.

But they do.

My chin quivers and the tears pours out like they haven't in months and I can't figure out what I'm crying about.

It can't be the dishes.

He says he's sorry and is there anything he can do and volunteers to rub my back, and all I spit out is, "My back doesn't really hurt much right now."

It's 5 years from one of my post-miscarriage surgeries and I know that it's possible that my body stores memory and has some sort of internal calendar and that given the state of the pain in my lower abdomen, even if my best friend hadn't reminded me of the surgery anniversary today, my body would've remembered on its own.

I'm sobbing now. Big, loud, noisy sobs that turn my nose so stuffy I can't breathe and eventually I go to sleep with my mouth open, waking periodically with a mouth that feels like I've been sucking on a cotton ball. But not before I cry out a series of disjointed statements and phrases. Phrases about judgment and feeling uncomfortable in certain settings and the longing and the missing and the stress and the ridiculous things that come out at times like this that really aren't a big deal at all.

In the morning, purple eyelids inflated with tears greet me in the mirror. I feel embarrassed and ridiculous and still quiet -- hushed by the big loss of a very little life.


  1. hugs to you Jenn. Please don't beat yourself up over a huge loss. Tanya

  2. Wow! You're so brave to share your heart this way! I definitely struggle with that! May you be blessed because you shared! <3 you!

  3. *Hugs* to you Jenn. Love you so much. I'm soooo sorry you've been through so much, and that your precious little one wasn't able to make it to your arms. How heartbreaking.
    I'll be praying for you, that you and your husband will be able to draw closer through your shared loss. Praise God you have a husband who loves you and is trying to support you in your pain. *Hugs*

  4. Sorry you have such a challenge in your heart. But I think it is so healthy that you deal with it face on. Loss is not a one time dealt with thing, is it. Part of the fabric of our lives for the rest of our time on earth.

  5. Thank you for being honest about your emotions so that you can continue to be yourself and grow. Thank you for writing about your process so that we can know we're not alone, and so we can see a real-life example of what writing for processing looks like. I know it wouldn't hurt as much if it didn't matter as much, but I'm still sorry. I love you very much!

  6. I relate to every line in this post. last night in particular played out in a very similar way. It means so much to know that there is someone else who feels this way, but I am so sorry for your pain. Wishing you all the best as you navigate this journey.


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