Not You Too: A Hope for Marriage During Loss

 (A note on this blog post: I have read a lot of blogs and books about loss and one thing that I seemed to have missed the most and craved deeply is the hard truth about how loss affects your marriage. I didn’t want the story after everything was fine and things were edited out because that made me feel even more lonely. I wanted the raw reality so that I could even just imagine that we weren’t quite so alone. Justin and I have experienced incredible healing individually and in our marriage this year, especially in the last few months. I would even venture to say it’s miraculous, knowing how hard it once was. But there was a time when all I had was hope. I couldn’t even pray for it because my spirit was too silent. I couldn’t even get the right words out to explain how devastating it felt. All I had was hope. I wrote this piece about THAT time. If you are there now, oh my friend, you are not alone. Lots of love. xoxo)

I may lose my smile for a little while. It might not come as quickly or freely as it once did. Most days I may feel too tired for smiling; too tired for much of anything at all. I may lose my smile, but I hope I don’t lose you too.

I may lose my faith. Or at least versions of it as I shed the parts that are heavy in search of the ones that are light. I may feel lost and unteathered for a time, as I grope and struggle and strive to find peace again. I may lose my fast and gutsy answers, laden with confidence and surety. I may choose doubt instead of certainty. I may choose fear instead of freedom. I might get swallowed up in the waves for a time. I may lose my faith, but l hope I don’t lose you too.

I may lose my grit. I might decide that it all feels too hard and too sad. Inside, I may choose to cross my arms and sit this one out for a little while. I may lose my motivation, determination, and inspiration. Life might feel like much more like a plight instead of a dance. I may lose my grit, but I hope I don’t lose you too.

I may lose the girl inside that I once was. I may lose my interests, my passions and my dreams. Those all might get tucked away in a box on and put on the highest shelf for a time. I may forget that I was strong once and I may forget how to lift up my chin. I may turn into a ghost for while, feeling much more like a shell than a soul. I may lose that girl, but I hope I don’t lose you too.

I may lose the ability to see you. I might forget to listen to your laugh and really look into your eyes. I might start seeing you as a defeated battle partner. Really seeing you might make it even harder, because you were there too. You were with me and your heart broke too. I may lose the ability to see you, but I hope I don’t lose you too.

I lost them. All those babies with no names and no faces that came and went so quickly. I lost the chance hear them call me momma. I lost the chance to hold them. I lost the chance to feel beautiful and strong as I carried them to term. I lost the chance to scream and yell and fight to bring them into the world, breathing, wailing and filled with new life. I lost them. We lost them. But I hope I don’t lose you too.

I lost her. I sat in an empty nursery that used to be hers. I sat alone, my arms empty in a chair that for many nights, I once rocked her, sang to her, and snuggled her. I packed up her clothes. I boxed up her baby toys. I said goodbye and I let her go. I lost her. We lost her. But I hope I don’t lose you too.

I hope.

I hope.

I don’t know.

I hope.

I hope I learn to smile again. I hope smiling feels easy and light and natural. I hope I find my faith again. I hope my soul once again feels tethered to something solid and strong. I hope I find grit and motivation and determination and inspiration. I hope it propels me to remember my dreams again; to remember the girl I once was. I hope I learn to dance. And I really hope I learn how to see you again.

I hope.

And I really hope I don’t lose you too. I hope we can find each other again. I hope we can walk off the battlefield and I hope I remember to take your hand in mine. I hope we learn to smile together again. I hope we remember how to believe and how to dream. I hope we find our legs again and we learn how to run; but more importantly I hope we learn how to dance.

I hope.

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6 Comments on Not You Too: A Hope for Marriage During Loss

  1. Auntie says:

    Beautiful Bonnie. So proud of you and Justin going through all of this and keeping your love, family and faith in tacted. Probably weathered and you both don’t know how. You held it together. With God’s grace and his love you did and we are so happy. God is Good. We love you. Auntie and Uncle

  2. Mikki Volz says:

    So beautifully written, Bon. So true, so honest , so hopeful. Life is just so hard sometimes and you write about it and it make us all feel less alone, more understood. God has given you a gift, tested by sorrow and loss, and you are using this writing gift to encourage us all. Keep at it, my sweet, wonderful daughter!!!❤️

  3. Rebecca Zweig says:

    I always end up in tears after I read your blog! So beautifully written and poetic and at the same time truthful and heart wrenching . Thank you for being so open.

  4. Gail Bones says:

    Beautiful! I love that God gives us the gift of words of expression so thst we can heal and help others in the pricess. Keep it up!

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