I hate mirrors. Not because I’m ashamed of my wrinkles or my fat hips. But because the face staring back at me now is not one I recognize.
I see someone who’s supposed to be me and can’t quite place her.
There’s a vague resemblance to the person that used to look me in the eye while I was brushing my teeth or fixing my hair.
But now, she is “other”, unfamiliar, strange in a “slightly off” kind of way.
Read the rest here: No Mirrors, Please!
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Author: Melanie
I am a shepherd, wife and mother of four amazing children, three that walk the earth with me and one who lives with Jesus. This is a record of my grief journey and a look into the life I didn't choose. If you are interested in joining a community of bereaved parents leaning on the promises of God in Christ, please like the public Facebook page, "Heartache and Hope: Life After Losing a Child" and join the conversation.
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That first year I could not look in the mirror (at my eyes) at all. Now, after 2.5 years, I can look again but I don’t see my face, my hair, my skin. I see me. Sometimes that makes me sad and weary because that woman in the mirror knows all about grief and child loss. Other times I see in the mirror a new person that is maybe a little better version of the old one. Looking at my new, battle-weary face, I can see a person who has lived, sorrowed, and, by God’s grace, survived. But the old me – her I do not see.
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I understand completely x
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