Grief can be messy...

Grief is messy Ive found. It seems that little choice bears upon what a day will hold in the land of grief, or how I will feel about it. I want to carry on as normal, only a trip to the supermarket and finding myself in line with a mother with a newborn baby, was probably not a good moment. She looked tired, he looked blissfully peaceful. I wondered to myself; does she get what a treasure she has strapped onto her front?!!! I stacked my groceries next to hers and found myself wistfully admiring her ready made meals and baby items..... nappies, oh sweet nappies... before slapping myself "Fleur, get a grip!". With military precision I stacked my items in order, packed up the car, and sat for a moment at the wheel, breathing.. wishing I could close my eyes and go to sleep and wake up to find my emotions were all in order as I liked them. Who knew shopping could do that to you??? And then there was the trip to the library, because heaven knows, I plan on being the worlds most amazing mum to the precious four bundles I have. Especially now. So we went in search of DVD's and books and stared widely away from anything to do with babies. I resisted the temptation to duck down the aisle of explanations for miscarriage.. Im sure there is a row of books for that stuff, written by people pre disposed, like myself, to research, answers and logic. Instead I found the Christian reading and hunted for something.. anything... eyes glued to titles... searching for THE book that would calm my heart. No one had written "Im Sorry You Lost Poppy", so I settled on "The Sacred Romance". Nate whispered to me "are you looking for a book to help you stop crying all the time?". Um. What do you say to that? On the drive home, the kids were fighting and I could feel my emotions starting to unravel. I hadnt told Nate or Ben yet, the reason for their mess of a mummy.. so I quietly said to them "hey guys, the reason mummy has been sad is that there was a tiny little poppy seed sized baby growing in my tummy... and (tears), where she grows, well (sniff), started bleeding, and she is now home with Jesus. SO PLEASE stop fighting okay (more tears)". I caught Nates reflection in the rear vision mirror, he was sitting up so he could see my face and said "are you crying mum?". I am, I responded, Im just so super sad son. Their little faces looked momentarily regretful and comprehending. And for a fraction of a second I breathed a sigh of relief that they got it... Only a moment later Ben said "what hapenned to the baby?". Nate went on to explain that "mum got a cut where the baby grows, so now she is bleeding, and the baby is lost". I pulled into the drive way and pulled on the break and then Amy says "its okay mummy, the baby is not lost, we will find her". I cracked up laughing through the tears and pain. The whole comical messy scenario reinforced the point: grief is messy. The next day I had an appointment and dropped off the kids to mum. About to go, Amy said "you are coming back aye mummy?". I reassured her, I wouldnt be long and would absolutely come back for her, somewhat bewildered by the comment... only she then turned to Nana and said "you wont lose me aye Nana?". I couldnt help but giggle as I figured out what was going on for her... I mean, just the day before we'd gone to the library and mummy had 'lost' the baby. What baby, Amy didnt know, and tears seemed a rather lackadaisical response to just 'losing' her... heck, I mean, if its so easy to lose someone, and not really make an effort to go searching to find them, then anything is possible, right?!. As far as Amy is concerned, mum is prone to losing things right now.. keys, coins, earing backs, socks, lists.. and sometimes the odd baby. So best to keep your bases covered and ensure Nana is looking out for you. Poor girl :D Then there is the somewhat more icky side of what people do, and dont say, or do, or think, or write. Where flowers and cards and meals and the like would be fitting for the loss of a child, miscarriage exists in the messy realm. The ugliest moment of my grief was cooking dinner on the night of losing the baby, with nothing around me that tangibly spoke "so sorry". I went to phone Sam and tell "sweetheart, please would you buy me a bunch of flowers".. I mean, everyone keeps asking "tell us if you need anything". And right at that moment, I needed flowers. But the strange part of grief is that its rather like romance, asking for it, nullifies the act of it. I hung up the phone after dialling 3 numbers, perplexed, again, at how messy my heart has felt. What about the time of grief? Everything in my life at this point, has had somewhat of a predictability. A beginning, a middle, an end. Grief, I realise, doesnt work like that. It seems its a bit like obtaining a tattoo while being pinned to the chair. The picture might make a bit more sense, once its completed, and the pain lessens, but what if you never wanted the tattoo in the first place? I mean, for some, for a few, miscarriage is a relief. But for me, it was a tragedy. Messy. How do you make sense of the mess of grief? I think the answer is not to look at the mess, but to look at Jesus. Spring cleaning is wonderful fun, but winter still has to be gone through. I happen to like winter, and Im learning to be okay with it in my soul too. Its not pleasant at times, but Ive come to know, that snow shows his foot steps the clearest and his breath is visible in the icy cold air. The beauty of the mess is that He is so very near.