A Refuge for Hurting Women

Mother's Day is both a time of celebration and a time of grief in my heart.  It's a day I so cherish and value as it reminds me of the gifts I've been given in my Mom, mother-in-law, grandmothers, spiritual mother (Pamela), and other women who have been a help to me.   It's also a day when I am especially thankful to be able to call myself a mom to the most beautiful little blessing I know, Felicity.  However, it's also a day that quickly reminds me that of my two children, one is not here with us. 

Butterfly outside our house after Joni's Memorial Service

This morning, I was reminded that one week from today will be the one year anniversary of the Memorial Service I had for my daughter, Joni.  I remembered the deep pain I felt last year on Mother's Day as my body still felt as if a part of it was missing.  I thought about the women I've met since losing Joni who have lost children, whose stories are almost unbearable to hear.  The women who lost their children just weeks before their due dates, the women who lost babies before they had the chance to share the good news with others, the women who lost babies just hours after delivering them, the women who have tried for years to conceive only to see a negative pregnancy test each month, the women whose adoptions have fallen through after finally finding a "match". 

Flowers given to me after losing Joni that are now hanging in my house

To say that I've developed a heart for such women would be an understatement.  I am one of those women, and I love and care for those women deeply.  Many months ago, I began to desire to reach out to those women.  I knew I couldn't fix their problems, I knew I couldn't change their situations.  But I also knew that I had come to value not being alone when grieving the loss of a child.  I knew that loss of a child and infertility are incredibly isolating, and something that it seems few people understand.  I knew that talking about the death of a child is unfortunately socially awkward, and can cause others to keep their distance.  So this desire to help those women started taking shape in the form of a support group for women, a refuge if you will.

So, once a month, I show up to facilitate Refuge for women.  We eat dessert, drink tea, and just talk.  Just get it out.  Share all those unpleasant, painful feelings that are hard to share with others who haven't been there.  Just share where we are in our grief, what we've encountered lately that's been hard or encouraging for us.

We just share.

Nothing formal, nothing fancy.  Just hurting women getting together in a casual setting to share our burdens and remind ourselves that we're not alone.  You don't have to commit, you don't have to come on time or stay for the whole meeting.  You don't have to say a word.  We meet at a church, but you are welcome no matter what your beliefs.  Come once, or come monthly for the next several years.  It's just there for those who need it.

So, if you or someone you know is one of those hurting women, know that you/they are not alone.  Your situation is unique, and no one will be able to fully understand you, but know that you are cared for, prayed for, and welcome to come to Refuge when you're ready.

 

Refuge Support Group for Women

2nd Monday of each month

7:30-9:00 p.m.

Christchurch Presbyterian Education Building

60 Peachtree Park Drive

Atlanta, GA 30309

Questions? E-mail me at kirbylynncleland@gmail.com



December.

A brief little nonexhaustive summary of the final month of 2012:



Excitement!  Excitement about excitement!

Design.  Loving design.

Awkward Christmas cards.  Crying about awkward Christmas cards.  Wondering, "How does one with a lost child create an un-awkward Christmas card?"

Assembly line Christmas cards (at home).  Daniel the super-helper.

Wrapping. 

No procrastination, and then wondering, "Why didn't I procrastinate this year?"

Sickness and isolation.  Feeling crazy as a result.  More sickness and isolation.

Firewood.  The song, not the stuff.

Fires...gas...

Cuddles and dates and ice cream and baking with the little one.

Lights. 

Frustratedly sewing and creating a little Russian girl, affectionately named "Doll".

A quick ride on the big and scary Pink Pig!  Daddy saved the day!

Family.  Glad for family.

Shock.  Sadness. 

More wondering. 

Dread.

Darting here and darting there.  Contemplating avoidance.

Hopefulness. 

Sparkly nails (because, though I love sparkles, I wonder how this stay-at-home can justify wearing sparkles anywhere but her nails).

Giving and enjoying giving.  Then, at times, wondering if we gave so much out of guilt?

Tantrums galore!

Princesses abound!

Memories.  Good and bad.

More wondering: "What year is this?  Why does this feel so strange?  Why do I feel like no time has passed?"

Deliberating, discussing, deciding and then un-deciding again and again.

Too much chocolate, and the weight gain that ensued.

Sadness for friends.  Sadness for strangers.  Deep, deep hurt. 

The pig, and the frog, and the opening mailbox, and the waving snowman (Felicity's favorite lights).

Saying "goodbye" to friends.  Sad.  Feeling alone. 

More wondering......"Where do we belong?"

Depth and beauty and movement and stillness:Les Mis (the book).

Small town.  My Man. Cuddles, good food, a little walk in the cold, and pretending I'm at Downton Abbey.  Tears and hugs and soft, melded hearts.  Goodbye year, for better or for worse! 


2012 will be remembered, at least for now, as the best worst year of my life.  Or, maybe I should say that it contained the hardest moment(s) of my life, yet it was full of numerous surprisingly tender and life-giving moments.  I've never known sorrow and pain like I did this year, but I've also never known depths of love and beauty as I have this year.  Saying "goodbye" to this year causes me to ache, but saying "hello" to 2013 brings a welcome feeling of hope.  Cheers, friends!