It’s 6 days until my husband and I will participate in the March of Dimes March for Babies in honor of the life and death of our son Izzy who passed away on January 25, 2016 due to bilateral renal agenesis, a fatal birth defect when a baby lacks kidneys. I’m pushing myself to write and post on the blog each day until the walk—some days a little and maybe some days a lot—in hopes of shedding light on issues like miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant loss so that other women who go through these types of things know that they’re not alone. Please share this post generously to spread awareness!
Unfortunately, I’m not about to write about the good kind of “No Sleeep” that Janet Jackson sings about in her song. My “No Sleeep” started the night that my newborn son died. The night that Izzy passed, I cried myself to sleep and slept for about 3 or 4 hours before I woke up again to cry and stare out of my hospital window. I could see Lake Michigan and I remember thinking how strange it was that the sun was coming up and the world was still going after everything that just happened. It’s been hard to sleep ever since that night.
Once I came home from the hospital, I was only able to sleep for a few hours at a time before waking up and staring into the darkness of my bedroom. Sometimes I could let out a good cry and go back to sleep, but other times I would just lay in bed with my eyes closed and my mind racing. A week from today will be 3 months since he was born and passed away and I still find myself feeling like a zombie most days because I’m not getting nearly as much sleep as I need to feel my best.
There are some people, like my husband for example, who are still able to thrive with very little sleep. He’s so used to being tired that for him it’s almost a nonissue. But I on the other hand have always been a person that needed at least 7-8 hours in order to have enough energy to even say “Good Morning” to someone without having an attitude. I’ve always not only needed sleep to feel ready to handle the day, but I’ve always just loved sleep. It was one of my favorite things to do. It was also a refuge for me when I was going through hard or stressful situations. I took so many naps in college after my Dad died from cancer that I wish napping was a major because I would’ve graduated summa cum laude. But this time, I can’t sleep away my grief. There’s this anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach that keeps me up even when I’m on the brink of exhaustion.
Grief itself is exhausting. Of course, grief affects every person differently. However, for me and for many other people from what I’ve read/heard, grief can physically wear you out. The pain of loss can feel like a weight that you carry around 24/7 without any relief and it just makes you tired—weary really. One of the toughest things about this is it’s when I’m the most tired that the sadness and pain of grief seems the most overwhelming. It’s hard to stand under the weight of it all mentally, when I’m physically void of energy.
Through it all, I’m trusting in God that I will get through this and for those of you that may be having your own physical or mental struggles from grief, I’m praying the same for you.
My family and I would love for you to donate to our March for Babies campaign! Any amount no matter how small may help other families of premature infants. Click here and know that we’re so thankful for you!