The trouble with grief is that you never know when it's going to hit. One minute you're doing OK. You're handling it. You might even feel a measure of joy or hope. And then you feel guilty for that good feeling, and the next minute you're struggling again.
On Friday, we found out that our baby (due in September) was no longer alive inside of me. Friday was pretty heart-wrenching.
Saturday morning, I had perspective. I knew our baby was safe and being well cared-for by our heavenly Father. I imagined our little one being held by friends and family who are already Home. I wrote a blog post (Tears in the Night) about what happened, a tear-filled post mingled with peace and even thankfulness.
The day went downhill a few hours later. Hurt and anger set in. I wanted to control something. And since I couldn't control what was happening in my body or emotions, I decided to control my surroundings. The house--which I'd done nothing to since I started bleeding on Weds--had to be picked up right away. I couldn't stand the clutter anymore. The dishes had to be washed, and my husband had to help me. Poor guy. He washed all the dishes and helped me straighten up, and he did his best not to take my frustration personally.
My kind mother-in-law made dinner for us that night, and it was both good and sad to spend time with Steve's parents. They are grieving the loss of their anticipated grandchild--the second grandbaby they've lost in the past year, and we hurt for them. We know my parents are sad over this, too, and we've received many supportive messages from our siblings, other relatives and friends.
Saturday night, Steve and I had a long time of talking, grieving and praying. We each shared some of the things we'd really looked forward to with this baby, things we're grieving the loss of now. Of course I'd looked forward to cradling our baby close in my arms, singing to him or her and inhaling the sweet scent of baby. Steve had begun to count down the months till he could take our baby fishing, the years till he could take our firstborn hunting. (Boy or girl, they would've been out in the woods together.)
Steve thanked God for the time we did have with our baby. That thought caught me by surprise. I was mourning the dates on the calendar that wouldn't happen--the 12-week ultrasound, the one where we'd find out if our baby was a boy or a girl, our due date and the day our baby actually arrived. My sister-in-law Sandy, who lost a baby last year, told me she often thinks of how old her baby would be now. No doubt we'll think of that on what might have been our baby's first birthday, etc. But Steve thanked God for the time we did have, and I suppose he is right.
When God created this little life, He knew its time on earth would be short. But He chose us as parents. We can ask, "Why us? We didn't ask for this pain." Or we can ask, "Why did He entrust us with this little life, for the short time we had?" Steve said he wants to remember the joy and excitement of the three weeks we knew about this baby, rather than the trauma of the past few days. Wise man, my husband.
On Saturday as the hurt and anger set in, I did say, "Why? We didn't ask for this." And I hurt a God-whisper: You didn't ask for my Son to die for you, either. True that.
I love this quote and have it above my desk at work:
Why does this keep happening to me?
My friend Ryan emailed last night to let us know that he and his wife want to offer their support. They've been through seven miscarriages. I can't even imagine that kind of hope and devastation, over and over again. Ryan said, "My only advice to you is to allow yourself to feel all of the different emotions you have. The anger, bitterness, so on. God can handle it. It is important for you to not hide from any of the pain. No bottling it up and no superficial religious junk."
On Friday, we found out that our baby (due in September) was no longer alive inside of me. Friday was pretty heart-wrenching.
Saturday morning, I had perspective. I knew our baby was safe and being well cared-for by our heavenly Father. I imagined our little one being held by friends and family who are already Home. I wrote a blog post (Tears in the Night) about what happened, a tear-filled post mingled with peace and even thankfulness.
The day went downhill a few hours later. Hurt and anger set in. I wanted to control something. And since I couldn't control what was happening in my body or emotions, I decided to control my surroundings. The house--which I'd done nothing to since I started bleeding on Weds--had to be picked up right away. I couldn't stand the clutter anymore. The dishes had to be washed, and my husband had to help me. Poor guy. He washed all the dishes and helped me straighten up, and he did his best not to take my frustration personally.
My kind mother-in-law made dinner for us that night, and it was both good and sad to spend time with Steve's parents. They are grieving the loss of their anticipated grandchild--the second grandbaby they've lost in the past year, and we hurt for them. We know my parents are sad over this, too, and we've received many supportive messages from our siblings, other relatives and friends.
Saturday night, Steve and I had a long time of talking, grieving and praying. We each shared some of the things we'd really looked forward to with this baby, things we're grieving the loss of now. Of course I'd looked forward to cradling our baby close in my arms, singing to him or her and inhaling the sweet scent of baby. Steve had begun to count down the months till he could take our baby fishing, the years till he could take our firstborn hunting. (Boy or girl, they would've been out in the woods together.)
Steve thanked God for the time we did have with our baby. That thought caught me by surprise. I was mourning the dates on the calendar that wouldn't happen--the 12-week ultrasound, the one where we'd find out if our baby was a boy or a girl, our due date and the day our baby actually arrived. My sister-in-law Sandy, who lost a baby last year, told me she often thinks of how old her baby would be now. No doubt we'll think of that on what might have been our baby's first birthday, etc. But Steve thanked God for the time we did have, and I suppose he is right.
When God created this little life, He knew its time on earth would be short. But He chose us as parents. We can ask, "Why us? We didn't ask for this pain." Or we can ask, "Why did He entrust us with this little life, for the short time we had?" Steve said he wants to remember the joy and excitement of the three weeks we knew about this baby, rather than the trauma of the past few days. Wise man, my husband.
On Saturday as the hurt and anger set in, I did say, "Why? We didn't ask for this." And I hurt a God-whisper: You didn't ask for my Son to die for you, either. True that.
I love this quote and have it above my desk at work:
Why does this keep happening to me?
It’s not fair.
I never asked to be treated this way.
I did nothing to deserve this.
And yet
Every moment of every day, completely unprovoked,
God pours out His love on me.
He blesses me in unexpected ways.
His mercies are new every morning.
No matter what I do I cannot stop Him.
Even in the worst situations His goodness prevails. He is relentless.
I am a victim of grace.
- From Victim of Grace by Robin Jones Gunn ©2013
Wise words, my friend. God can handle our grief, our pain, our anger, our hurt. Even anger at Him. The important thing is to rant and rave to His face, not behind His back. Although He understands that, too. Steve and I have both experienced deep grief before, and we've both gone through seasons of turning our back on God. Yet He drew us back, and we're so thankful.
Life sucks sometimes. Yet life is beautiful. Mixed in with my grief today is joy over my friend Kari's new baby boy and Denise's engagement. We look forward to welcoming John & Carrie's baby into the world pretty soon--a little miracle! And I can't wait for a certain children's book to arrive in the mail, so I can wrap our baby gifts for Paige and Kim's little boy who's due in April. Steve's brother and other close friends are expecting babies this year, too, one the day after ours was due. We look forward to meeting these precious children!
Grief and joy, all in one moment. Hurt and thankfulness, all in one heart. God sees. He cares. That's enough.
(And many thanks to everyone for the great support, kind messages, thoughts, prayers, meals and so on that you've given us. We feel very loved. And we ache for each of you who has shared a similar loss.)
What a blessing that God has given you this gift to write. Thank you for sharing with us. I am praying for you and Steve. I love you.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Shirl!
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