Beth Morey's Blog, page 33

Resting, Being

I am noticing that my brain is changed.

I don't know if it's the bed rest or the fact that my doctor expects this rainbow boy to make his debut earlier than expected, but I suddenly have very few words.  (This is why I have not been blogging very much.)  My brain often feels foggy from the combination of rest and the smoke from summer fires that is filling our valley and our home.  My body aches, my gaze has turned inward, and all I want is to simply be. 

So that is what I...

Thirty

This week I turn thirty.

I've heard again and again from various people that your thirties are amazing.  A couple of years ago, I was living for this hope, because an eating disorder and other health issues had made life a living hell.

And then -- God moved, the chains of disordered eating fell away, and I was pregnant with the child we had been cautioned not to hope for.

One year ago, when I turned twenty-nine, I wasn't as desperate for change as I had once been.  But I still looked f...

Rainbow Update + The Value of Brokenness

 
I haven't been blogging much this week because life has been full, and more than a little nerve-wracking.  On Tuesday I had some significant contractions early in the morning that eventually eased off to fairly regular Braxton-Hicks contractions, so I decided to call my doctor and fill her in.  She had me go into the hospital to check for preterm labor.  
Everything looked great and I'm not in preterm labor, and that held true at yesterday's monitoring session at the...

The Gift of Grief

Today has been one of the most beautiful days I’ve had in a long while. The kind of day for which there are not words to describe the sweetness.

Three days ago was the eight month mark of my baby’s death. That day hit me hard, and continues to. The tears have flowed freely. Sleep eludes me.

How is it that those two realities can coexist, that such deep beauty and deep sorrow might live side by side? That they might dwell together in the same breath?

I don’t know, really. All I know is that it is...

In the Art Studio: New Art + How I've Been Survivng

Thank you so much for the prayers and grace and love you gave me the other day, when I hit 31 weeks of pregnancy for the second time in nine months.  The time has been passing very, very slowly (s l o w l y), but I am surviving pretty well.  It's strange when you suddenly find yourself living in the thing that you've been dreading for so long.  I still haven't been anxious, but mostly feeling heavy and sad.

To occupy the time (and hopefully make it speed along a bit), I've been...

31 Weeks

In my experience, pregnancy ends today. 

Abruptly.  Without cause.

It ends in tears.  Shock.  In the kind of pain that never heals, not fully, not really.

Eve died at 31 weeks exactly.  Today I am the same gestation with our rainbow baby.

It's hard to express how that feels.

I thought I'd be scared, but I'm not.  Or if I am, the anxiety is buried more deeply, embedded more intrinsically, than I can fathom.

I am sad.  Very sad.  Grief upon grief.  I mis...

On the Value of Being Messy

"And you to have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine." 
~ Mary Oliver, When I am Among the Trees
"Long before he laid down earth's foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love, to be made whole and holy by his love. Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!) He wanted us to enter into the celebration of his lavish gift-giving by the hand of...

In the Art Studio: Warrioress, Wood Mounted Prints, & #1,000

Here is my current work-in-progress.  Well, that's not quite accurate -- I have a bunch of pieces that need to be finished, but this one is the most active (and most recent).  I think she's a warrioress.


New wood mounted prints are up in my art shop.  They turned out beautifully.  The photos absolutely do not do them justice -- I'm going to try retaking those photos, but I am so pleased with how these affordable, ready-to-hang prints look.  You can find them here. ...

Space Enough For Her

Yesterday I got an answer to my question.  Or at least part of an answer.  If you read my last post, you'll remember that I've been wondering about how a dead child and a living child can both fit into the same life, especially once the grief begins to abate.

I've now had a taste of what that answer might be.  Here's what happened:

Yesterday, I woke up feeling heavy and terribly sad.  Not anxious, and certainly not normal, but sad.  At first I couldn't figure out why. ...

"Normal"

Since Eve died, I have not felt normal.  And by "not normal," I mean that I have not felt like myself (which is probably good, because how can you stay the same after something so life-shattering?).  I mean that I do not seem to fit.

At times, I haven't felt like a woman.  I haven't even felt like a real person.  I failed -- or something failed within me, or within her -- in this very basic act of procreation, and as a result I've often felt like I was expelled from the hu...