Will someone please check on my husband? He’s strong. Like, really strong. I overheard him praying tonight, and I don’t think he feels like he can tell me about it, but he’s just as heartbroken as I am. I know the baby was growing inside me. I know I got the morning sickness and the body aches and the fatigue. I know I was the one on the exam table, having blood drawn, getting the ultrasounds, and making the doctor’s appointments.
But I didn’t make the little angel by myself.
And I’m not the only one who is grieving its loss.
Will someone please check on my husband? I tried to. I asked if he was OK. I asked if he was truly OK. He said yes. He said he was fine. But I don’t think he would tell me the truth if he wasn’t.
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I don’t think he would tell me he isn’t really sleeping at night or eating as he should.
Will someone please check on my husband? He held my hand through every piece of bad news and wiped away every tear that followed. He was there for me. He reminded me this wasn’t my fault and that it would all be OK. But, no one was there to hold his hand or to tell him it would be OK if he cried on their shoulder. While I needed him, did he need someone, too? I don’t just mean any someone because, of course, I am someone. I mean a normal someone. A regular someone. A someone who isn’t broken.
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Will someone please check on my husband? God sustains us. God holds us in His hands, and I know He will continue to love on the shattered pieces of our hearts until they are healed. But, it would be nice to know that until our healing comes, my husband has a human to unload and unpack these feelings with. Could I handle that responsibility? Maybe. Would he ask me to try? Absolutely not.
Will someone please check on my husband?
When you call me or text me or see me in the grocery store, asking how you can help . . . that’s going to be how. We appreciate all of your prayers and your condolences. They are coveted. I can’t explain the incredible warmth that grows in my heart every time you hug my neck or say you will go to the ends of the earth for us.
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I don’t need you to go to the ends of the earth. I just need you to go to my husband. He’ll probably smile and say, “Thanks, man,” or, “I appreciate it. I’m alright.” But maybe he’ll cry in your lap. Maybe he’ll say, “I don’t understand this,” or, “This hurts.” I honestly don’t know what will come of it or what he will say. I don’t know if he will say anything at all, but, what if he does?
Will someone please check on my husband?