Impatient Outsider

September 3, 2014

I’m sitting here with a hot cup of coffee (cream only, hotter the better) thinking about how it’s been a week since I’ve written on here. I’m not sure why.

I feel left out of everything lately. Life in general. I’m the oddball out almost everywhere I go. I enrolled Bella in gymnastics last month, and two moms with babies sat and chatted about breastfeeding/formula/clothes/nights/etc the whole time. It was so hard to hear, then on top of it little baby whimpers that sent me straight back to Children’s with Kaden. I had to get up and leave the room a few times (Bella was in another room completely).

The last day of it, I chose to sit a little ways away from them and could hear them whisper softly about how I thought I was better than them or something. It hurt so much. I wanted to unload my story on them both, watch their faces as they struggled to find something to say to me then. But I didn’t. I ignored them and their living babies and took Bella home at the end.

We start Girl Scouts next week. I was talking with the lead mom yesterday about it by phone, and she said, “The parents all stick around during the meetings, they’ve become such good friends.”

Great, was all I could think. I wonder when I’ll have to explain why I can’t hold their baby without crying while they dash to the restroom or that Bella isn’t my only child.

Everywhere I go, I live in two worlds. One foot in heaven. One here. Back and forth, bracing myself for comments that aren’t meant to be mean but hurt, questions that are completely normal and leave me reeling. I don’t know how else to get through this right now than just minimize pain while trying not to avoid it completely.

I’m different. Than just about everyone. I fear telling people my story because about the time I get to Kaden, they stop relating on any level. I see them wrestle with what to say, and I feel awful. It’s easier just to avoid telling it – but almost impossible to do that for longer than a first meeting.

I can’t even end on a good note. No, “But we’re adopting!” or “We’re trying again!” or anything. Just – this is my really sad story from the past two years.

Then I feel guilty because I have Bella – and angry because she shouldn’t have had to deal with this either. Or still.

I don’t know how to do this. I have no idea when life will reach a semi-normal status again, if I’ll ever be able to relate to another mom.

Honestly? I don’t know if I want normal anymore. There is a part of me that feels like because of what I’ve gone through, I don’t deserve to fall back into “normal”. I want a life that is on fire for Christ and others in such a way that normal doesn’t even come into play. One that exceeds my wildest expectations, not that it makes up for the loss of my boys, but gives it a purpose almost as big as what I lost.

  • Write a bestseller.
  • Become a missionary family.
  • Travel the world helping people.

Maybe that’s crazy – but so is what I’ve dealt with. I want a life where I’m the oddball but in ways that bring a whole new meaning to what we’re going through. I sometimes think, “But what if that never happens? What if this is kind of it – maybe a few really cool things happen but life just plods along and eventually I’m old?”

Can that happen if you truly give your life to Christ? Does he look at some of us and say, “Thanks so much, I’m going to just have you live in a small suburban area, go to church, and be as close to normal as possible – even though that’s not your heart’s desire.”

I want my life to be impacting in a way that doesn’t leave me sad or feeling alone. In a way that draws me out of my own self pity wallow and into a totally different view – I’m not the only one suffering, the only one losing, the only one who wonders “Is this it?” 

I have a chance to do some of this soon, and I’ll be able to share more next week. I don’t know what will happen with it, or where it will take me (if anywhere), but it’s coming. And it’s making me take a hard look at the comfortable world I know and the reality that this isn’t my home to be comfortable in. I want more because I’m supposed to – but what will that mean for this life?

Maybe I’ll be patient and see where this road is leading.

Or wait impatiently. That’s probably more realistic for me. Still waiting, just not as patiently as I should.


  • Tracy

    September 14, 2014 at 9:09 am

    There are definitely mom’s out there, even those who haven’t experienced the loss of a child, who can be there for you. After all look at all of us, your readers. Have hope! 🙂 I was thinking the whole time reading this that you would be an amazing speaker. You have a story to share and you share it in such a beautiful way. While my heart has always ached for you as you share your story I have always marveled at the beauty that I see in it and the amazing way you view your relationship with God. It has had an enormous impact on me spiritually. So thank you for that. Hopefully your virtual world of supporters and friends can be a brief substitute until you can find your way. Sending prayers your way always.

  • Annet M

    September 4, 2014 at 8:03 pm

    I really love your raw writing and I cannot pretend to understand your grief, though in a very small way, I understand. We are having trouble having another baby and while our son is 6 and we love him dearly, we also envisioned 2, not 1. Tonight at a party some people said “oh, you should have another one…!” Sure, thanks, we hadn’t considered that… But I think your phrasing “my own self-pity wallow” is too harsh on yourself. Self-pity to me is for those that complain about money when they have too much, or small things. You have grief, real deep grief and you should wallow, but don’t call it self-pity, because that denigrates the enormity of what you are dealing with.

  • Mandi

    September 4, 2014 at 3:00 am

    You speak about wanting to make an impact. I really feel that you underestimate the weight your blog has and the impact your writing has on so many people. Sharing your story is so important and a really big deal.

  • Terri Tipton Hampton

    September 4, 2014 at 12:48 am

    You are amazing just because you are a daughter of the King. Hold onto that, and wait on the High King as a waiter in an upscale restaurant waits on his guests, interacting with Him and constantly checking to see what He wants you to do. I know you miss your babies. I can't imagine your pain. Or the reason God saw fit to take them to be with Him in heaven instead of here with you. But now we see dimly, yes? We will see clearly one day. One day soon. Loving you and praying for you.

  • Elizabeth Clements

    September 3, 2014 at 10:43 pm

    You impact me.

  • Franchesca

    September 3, 2014 at 12:29 pm

    I am so darn proud of you. I know you probably don’t want to hear that. But just last night I was talking to some loss friends and we are all kind of there, wanting more out of this than sympathy and self-pity. I think our testimonies for Christ can be richer. It doesn’t make it easier but in some ways it makes their deaths meaningful. Anyway, I know big things are ahead for you Diana. I cannot wait to see what God does through you and your story. I love that you talked about Jesus, and how he does not call us to be normal… he calls us to be extraordinary, different and anything but “normal”. thank you for such a moving post.

  • Jenn Ross

    September 3, 2014 at 11:18 am

    As usual your writing moves me in ways I can’t even explain. There are so many lessons for all of us here. Don;t judge, don’t make assumptions, know everyone has a story and most of those stories will make us uncomfortable. The most learning comes from being uncomfortable. Hang in there, Jesus is looking after you and so are your boys. What you have experienced is not normal but what you are feeling is so very normal and understandable. You don’t have to explain anything to anyone. As Brene Brown says “there are only a few people who deserve to hear our stories” Those stories of when we are broken because instead of making it better “our” people are willing to walk in the pain with us..they can’t make it better or solve it but they can hold our hands and walk with us..just like Christ. Blessings to you.

  • Margot Kate Guy

    September 3, 2014 at 5:11 pm

    Diana! You are such an inspiration to me and so many others. The part that stood out to me most? "..One that exceeds my wildest expectations, not that it makes up for the loss of my boys, but gives it a purpose almost as big as what I lost." That speaks to me. Your story is not done yet, beautiful mama. God is working behind the scenes (in overtime) to help fulfil your heart's desires. Hold on to the hope and promise of being with your boys in heaven, and let God help you find your way here on earth. Your boys are proud of you. And they see your courage and strength and perseverance. Brighter days are ahead.

  • Rebecca Lauren McGrath

    September 3, 2014 at 5:08 pm

    While I can't relate to the unimaginable pain you are suffering daily, I can totally relate to the "oddball" feeling. We tried for 7 yrs to start a family with so many ups and downs. I would avoid baby showers, newborns, pregant women as much as possible. My friendships were lost as a result, and my own family relationships changed. No on understood the pain I felt when seeing a new mom holding her baby. I left church in the middle of the service many times if a pregant mom or baby sat near me. People thought I just needed to get over it or "be grateful for what I had", which ot added on to my feelings of guilt for letting my pain take over my life. I guess I just wanted to let you know that you aren't the only woman who feels like no one else in those social situations understand why you act or don't act a certain way. Thank you for being so honest and raw in your writing.

  • Heather Nasal

    September 3, 2014 at 10:45 am

    “But what if that never happens? What if this is kind of it – maybe a few really cool things happen but life just plods along and eventually I’m old?” Oh Diana. This spoke to me so very deeply as I am struggling with something myself. I am praying for you always.

  • Annie

    September 3, 2014 at 10:41 am

    I am excited to hear about your opportunity! I’m praying all goes well for you and God leads you to the right path… I do think he calls some people to be in the suburbs, and to live normal lives quietly serving, and some people he calls for something much bigger. I hope you find a life outside of “normal,” and I hope you have that opportunity to zealously be so outside of normal that your loss is just one part of a huge story.

  • Tina

    September 3, 2014 at 10:30 am

    I really hate how people like those moms judge and assume you are being snobby instead of realize how every person is fighting some kind of battle and that we should all just be kind to each other. I know I am just as guilty – before I lived and experienced I am sure I was judgmental. I just hate hearing how you overheard hurtful words when seriously it is the last thing you need.

    Grieving is personal and there is no right or wrong to it and there is not a timetable. And – you shouldn’t have to explain yourself to anyone. You are a great mom to Bella. She is lucky to have you.

    Try not to be so hard on yourself and take good care.

  • Susan Aller

    September 3, 2014 at 10:20 am

    You certainly don’t owe anyone anything ! You are unique and special in ways only your family knows. You have a gift of relating what you feel in words. Keep writing while for now it seems cathartic some day you will have a book about your journey and it will portray your wins and your losses. I know your losses are great and as of this moment they feel like they are totally overwhelming but know that there are others out there like you. Others that have felt the loss you have felt maybe not in the same exact way but the loss of the children you grow within you, birth and then lose. Some of us have those children for months even years and some only get a few moments. Just know your babies are angels in the clouds watching you from afar knowing they are loved and missed everyday.

  • Wendi Kilbride

    September 3, 2014 at 10:06 am

    I don’t have the story you have but know, not all mommies like to hang out with the other mommies. It’s OK to not want to talk to them or tell them your story. I always bring a book/ipad to practices/meetings etc so that I don’t have to be in their club. I’ve never fit in and that’s OK..I pretend to have my own little club and it’s so much more cool than theirs, they don’t even know

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