FMF: Following Jesus

Joining Kate  for another Five Minute Friday

Follow:

As a child, I used to read the verse, "take up your cross and follow me," and I never really understood what it meant. I used to think it was very strange. As I grew I started to understand it a bit better, as I had to bear things like ridicule from non-Christian friends, and being left out of things that happened on Sunday mornings because my family went to church every Sunday without fail unless you were home sick in bed.

Now in my adult life, I am learning a whole new meaning to the phrase, "take up your cross and follow me."

I am learning that every single one of us has a cross to bear. We were given it at conception in our mothers' wombs along with the sin-nature that was handed down from Adam. We all have to bear that symbol of death and destruction due to sin.

We don't have a choice what our particular cross looks like. For me, it partly looks like saying good-bye to my precious babies. For my cousin it partly looks like raising four preschoolers one of which has special needs including a feeding tube. For my college roommate and dear friend it partly looks like losing her father as a teenager.  For a dear friend and colleague this week it partly looks like holding her mother's hand in the hospital not knowing if she will ever come home on earth or if it is her time to go home to heaven.

We do not have a choice whether or not we will bear a cross, and we do not have a choice what our particular cross might look like each day, but we do have a choice of what to do with our cross. Some choose to buckle under the weight of carrying our crosses ourselves, barely inching along life's road weighed down, tired, and discouraged. Others choose to try to ignore their crosses, paint them up fancy and disguise them to look like something else. Some might just plunk their cross down in the dirt and refuse to go on.

Me, I have chosen to daily pick up my ugly, heavy, pock-marked cross, and follow Jesus. I follow Him because He bears my cross alongside me, shouldering the heavy load. I follow Him because He doesn't disguise it or ignore it, but rather promises to one day exchange it for a crown of glory. I follow Him because He gives me strength to put one foot in front of the other, even when I cannot see where the road I am walking goes up ahead, and I am surrounded by darkness.

And one day when I get that crown of glory, I will lay it down again at His feet and I will be able to say with that great hymn, "All the way, my savior led me!"

Happy Birthday, Sweet Girl!

One year old today

365 days of this earth traveling around the sun,
And now you're one!
Happy Birthday, Sweet Girl!

I imagine how chubby your thighs would have been, 
As you toddled around with frosting coating your chin,
From your beautiful birthday cake.

I imagine the curls of your hair,
and the sticky crumbs you would share 
With your loving big sister June Bug.

I imagine the gifts and ribbons and bows,
And dressing you up in the cutest new clothes,
And watching you play in the paper.

I imagine the giggles and smiles and babbles,
And the wonderful sound of your voice speaking 
Straight to my heart, "Mama!" 

I have to just imagine, you see,
Because you are no longer here with me.
365 days since my heart shattered. 

You are one year old today.
I wish that you could have stayed,
To celebrate with us. 

But even as we are down here,
We smile through our tears, 
To think of Jesus holding you in heaven.

I never got to bring you home,
But one day He will bring me home to be with Him,
And you,
Forever.

Sibling Day

In case you didn't know, today is sibling day.

My Facebook news-feed is filled with photos of people with their siblings. Some when they were children, some as adults, some even have both.

As much as I love my siblings, and enjoyed seeing the photo my own sister posted, it does hurt a bit. You see, I will never be able to have a photo with all my siblings, and neither will June Bug. I can't help but wonder how many of those other photos have missing siblings as well.

Though it was never talked about a lot in my house growing up, I lost a sibling to miscarriage when I was 4 years old. We never got to meet this sweet baby, and I don't even think we knew about the existence of this baby until we were much older. I never really gave it much thought until I experienced losing a baby of my own.

And now June Bug has two siblings she'll never get to see this side of heaven. I could try to get a photo, using the teddy bear we have for Mikayla and the little owl knitted by a fellow loss-Mama for Selah, but it's just not the same. Our family photos will be forever incomplete just like my heart will forever be missing pieces.

Until we are made complete. One day when I stand before my savior and he fills in the holes in my heart with His healing love, and fills my aching arms with my babies I miss so much, I will be complete. Until then, I will be glad that June Bug has a sibling she will hopefully get to see and touch and play with come July. I will be thankful for the siblings God blessed me with on earth and the laughter and tears we have been through together. And I will mourn for the missing siblings in far too many homes.  

My Letter to Grief

I got the idea for writing a letter to grief from Kate Motaung, who encouraged readers to write their own letters. I began this letter several weeks ago, but it got to be too raw, and I had to back away for a bit, but I came back today feeling ready to tackle it. So here goes.



Dear Grief,

Over the past nine months I have tried holding you at arms length. I have tried bringing you in for a snuggle session. I have tried ignoring you and trying to pretend you were never there. I have gotten angry at you. I have coddled you like a newborn kitten and fed you until you became a tiger who nearly turned to devour me. I have researched you. I have tried to plumb your depths. I have ridden out your waves, even when I nearly drowned. You could not take me under.

Grief, you came into my life that early morning in the Emergency Room of the local hospital when I stared at the screen of the ultrasound machine, eyes searching for my wiggly baby and only finding a still stone instead. Strange that there should be a stone there. Where was my baby? Was she hiding? There must be some mistake. And then when I should have been hearing the delightful wild-stallion cantering clip-clop of her precious heartbeat, there was only silence. And I knew. I knew she was gone, and you crept in and made yourself known. An unwelcome guest in a place that should have been filled with hope and reassurance. You showed your ugly head that morning.

 You weren't through with me yet. In fact, you were only getting started. You embraced me as I was caught in the throes of contractions which should usher forth life, but instead were only bringing forth death. You held me as my precious daughter slipped into this world silent and still, when the only cries were that of a mother whose heart was ripped in two.

You were gracious to me those first few weeks. You let me ignore you for a bit; hold you away from me. But slowly, slowly, bit by bit you wormed your way in. You twisted into my heart and left it open and raw and bleeding. Scabs have formed now, but every so often you like to come and rip the scabs off as well, bringing up all the pain all over again.

You've been a constant shadow to me these nine months, sometimes almost disappearing for brief times when the joyful sun shines so brightly straight ahead that I can ignore you for a while. At other times you stretch large and spooky and make me want to hide under the covers like a frightened child. Especially now, that new life is growing in my womb. Now I am scared of you more than ever. I know your full power, and I don't want you coming close again. And yet I am powerless to stop you.

But I don't have to. I can live with you. I can let you come and go, ebb and flow, because I know that there is one in me who is greater than you or anything else in the world. He beat death. And because He beat death, He will one day banish you, grief, forevermore.

So I can close my eyes tonight, snuggle with my pillow, and sleep in peace knowing that though you can be so all-encompassing some days, you are merely a constant companion until the day I see Jesus and He strips you off of me and clothes me instead in pure joy.

Until then,

A Grieving Mama choosing to live by FAITH, not fear

FmF: Turn your eyes upon Jesus

Joining 5 minute Friday for 5 minutes of free-writing on the word: TURN


GO.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in His wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.

Yesterday my boss started a meeting with a devotional (I work in a Christian workplace) about trusting. It said we often fail to trust because we want answers, we want to feel in control, and we want to know what is coming next. It also said the Holy Spirit in our hearts can help us turn to Jesus and think trusting thoughts.

It definitely hit close to home, because one of my biggest struggles these past 7 months has been finding the balance between faith and action. I tell myself I trust God, but I long for and search for answers. I say I trust God, but I also look for another doctor who I can trust. I want to TRUST God, but I want to DO something to avoid future pain.

My prayers today have turned 180. I am not praying for answers or action plans today. I am praying that the Holy Spirit would help me to turn my eyes upon Jesus.

Day 30: First

Day 30 of 31 days of healing. Joining Kate for a 5--minute free-write on the word FIRST

GO:

I have a calendar of June Bug's first year. It is full of colorful stickers of her "firsts." First car ride, first smile, first tooth, first words, first steps. All the way up to first birthday.

This year we celebrated her first day of Kindergarten, first ride on a 2-wheeler, her first book she read by herself, and soon probably the first loose tooth.

There's no sticker for the first breathe. No sticker for first cries, or first movements - those frantic flailings of arms and legs exposed to air instead of amniotic fluid for the first time. No. Those are so taken for granted, they don't even warrant marking.

There are also no stickers for first heaven day, or "crap-versary" as one loss Mama put it. No stickers for the first time someone asks you how many kids you have and you just stare at them and tear up as you debate whether to go into details or just lie.

And even in June Bug's case, there are no stickers for the day you found out your long-awaited and prayed for baby sister went to heaven instead of coming to play with you like everyone said she would.

And so we make our own way. We mark our own days. We make prayer flags in August and light candles in October, and will celebrate Heaven days in April and September. We will forge ahead making memories wherever and however we can, to honor our love for our babies.

Day 29: Words that Unite

Day 29 of 31 days of Healing, I'm joining up today with incourage to share that words matter!



Words are things that can bring people together or tear people apart. Going through my journey post-loss, I have seen numerous posts by various people of things to say or not to say to someone who has recently lost a child or baby. Words can encourage and build up, healing a broken heart, or they can tear down and add to the already overwhelming weight of a loss.

I will not offer a list of phrases to say or avoid, but I will say that words are very important. Speak to me. Speak the names of my babies. Do not skirt around the issue, because words shared with a friend can be a healing balm. Listen to me. Let me share my story. Let me put my love into words and paint a picture in your mind of the precious life I carried, though you never got to meet my baby.

I have been blessed by words shared by others, words that unite, words that let me know I am not alone, and the emotions that are boiling over in my heart are a normal and natural reaction from the intense fire of saying goodbye. Words that let me see the beauty that can blossom from the ashes. Words that give me hope for myself that the fire will not always be such a fierce and painful thing, but will settle down to a pleasant warming of love.

I offer up my own words here, both for myself and for others. I have always needed to process feelings through words, but I also hope and pray that my words might also bless those who read here as I have been blessed by the words of others. Most of all I hope that all of my words will point upward to the WORD become flesh who dwelt among us.

Day 26: Visit

Day 26 (Ok, so it's not actually, but I'm trying to catch up here!) of 31 days of healing. Joining Kate with a 5-minute free-write on the word VISIT

GO:

There have been 5 new babies born in our church family over the past month. After each one, a joyous email is sent to the whole church body announcing the name, details, and that Mama and Baby are doing fine. Then there is usually some comment about whether or not they are ready for visitors, and/or how to help out the new parents.

The pastoral prayer this week included all the new parents and babies, prayers of thanks for their health and blessings for their futures. It also included all the expecting mothers (of which there are quite a few!).

I can't help but think - what about the rest of us? What about the mothers like me who didn't get the fairy tale ending? What about coming to visit and bring a meal for the mother who doesn't have a cute newborn to show off? What about looking at the heart-wrenching but still beautiful photos of the stillborn baby? What about prayers for healing of the broken hearts of the mothers who got something they never expected?

It is wonderful to celebrate new life. I am genuinely happy that our church family has so many blessed little ones. But I can't help feel a bit forgotten. Yes, we are to rejoice with the rejoicing, but where are those to mourn with those who mourn?

When a father, mother, sister, brother, cousin, aunt, etc. passes away, there is always a throng of people sharing their memories, giving condolences, bringing comfort. 

When a baby passes away before it was born, there is often silence and a sense of loneliness. 

I have been grateful to find sisters online who have been through loss of a baby, but in real life there have been very few who have reached out to me in my pain. My mother and grandmother, and my former college roommate, and another friend from college who experienced a miscarriage around the same time as Mikayla was stillborn. 

We need to do better. We need to acknowledge these precious little lives that continue in heaven. We need to mourn with those who mourn even as we rejoice with those who rejoice. Stillbirth is still a birth, and a life lost before birth is still a life. 

Day 20: Fear

Day 20 of 31 days of healing, joining with Kate for a 5-minute free-write on the topic of Fear.


GO
Fear is something I battle against all the time now. Fear that I will never get pregnant again. Fear that I will, and will lose another baby. Fear that something will happen to June Bug.

I remember writing before about waiting for the other shoe to drop. Feeling like God had not protected me from the huge hurt of saying good-bye to Mikayla, so why would He protect me from any number of other hurts as well?

I no longer feel that way. I'm no longer holding my breath in fear. I am winning the fight, in His strength. I am choosing to trust when fear comes creeping in. I am learning to preach the gospel to myself over and over again and remember God's faithfulness and love.

I don't know if the fear will ever go away forever, but I do know now that perfect love drives out fear. When I look at the circumstances, I can't help but fear, like the disciples in the boat looking at the storm and crying, "Save us or we'll drown!" But like the disciples, I know where to turn. Jesus is my only hope, and it is resting in His love alone that will drive out the fear and fill my heart with faith.

I don't know what God holds in store for me or my family, but I do know that He is good all the time, and His love endures forever.

STOP

Ps. I would appreciate prayers tonight as my husband is having some hard conversations at work which could drastically effect the direction our family takes over the next few months and years. But I know that God is working all things together for good!

Day 15: LIFE!

Day 15 of 31 Days  of Healing is very special to me and near and dear to my heart. I also LOVE that Kate's prompt for today is LIFE! I believe we have a God who is sovereign even (especially?) in the small things - even things like blog prompt words, so I know this is no accident!

Today is special because it is a holiday. Not one you'll see on many calendars, not one you'll get a day off work for, and not one that anyone ever really wants to have a reason to celebrate. It is a holiday I wish there was never any need for, but since we do live in a fallen world where babies die, I am glad there is a day set aside to remember.

Today, October 15th, is set aside as Pregnancy and Infant Loss (PAIL) Remembrance Day.

The Bible talks a lot about remembering, and special times of remembrance for His people. They generally involve remembering God's faithfulness during times of trial and tribulation.

Today this is my day of remembrance of God's faithfulness to me in the midst of Mikayla's stillbirth and Selah's miscarriage. I remember God's faithfulness to me and my family in the days that followed. I proclaim again God's continuing faithfulness to me today and forever!

As part of PAIL remembrance day, people around the world light candles at 7 pm local time and keep them lit for at least one hour. The idea is that this will create a continuous  wave of light around the world.

I lit 4 little tea-light candles tonight. One for Mikayla Sophie, one for Selah, a third for June Bug: one for each of my babies. I wrote their names on their candles. On the fourth I wrote one word: hope. For me this candle represents the hope that God will bring more children into our family when His timing is right.

At one point tonight, I glanced over and all the candles had gone out except for June Bug's. I felt a bit like it was an omen of some kind, that only my living-on-earth child's candle had not gone out. I felt like it was a bad sign that the "hope" candle had gone out, especially!

But then I thought to myself, "What can you do when you start to lose hope?" I realized that the best way to rekindle hope is the way the writers of scripture so often did, by revisiting and remembering God's goodness, grace, mercy, and faithfulness in the past.

I looked at that June Bug candle still brightly glowing in the darkness, and it was very symbolic for me. June Bug is a living picture of God's faithfulness to me. So I used her candle to re-light the others.

As I did so I remembered that my hope is in God's faithfulness, goodness, mercy, and grace. I remembered God's faithfulness and grace in giving June Bug life that continues here on earth, and for giving Mikayla and Selah their brief lives here on earth followed by a life that can never be extinguished.

I thank God for LIFE. For June Bug's life. For Mikayla's life. For Selah's life. For the lives of the children He will bless us with in the future, whether biologically or through adoption or some other way of His choosing. I thank Him most of all for giving us eternal LIFE through His death and resurrection.

So today, we remember. We celebrate the LIFE of these little souls who came to us for a short time before returning to the giver of LIFE.

Day 10 and FMF: Care

Day 10 of 31 Days of Healing and joining up at Kate's for Five-Minute Friday, a flash-mob of writing for 5 minutes on a given prompt every Friday. Come join us!

Word of the week: Care

GO

Some days I find it really hard to take care of myself. I stay up later than I should, wake up long before my alarm goes off, and then fall asleep on the couch as soon as I walk in the door after work. Some days I find it hard to eat, or find myself eating everything in sight (as long as it's unhealthy). I'm still struggling with the whole exercise thing, though I have made some progress (twice a week is better than zero, right?), and if my husband wasn't so outspoken about personal hygiene I would probably go days between showers sometimes.

What makes me keep going through the motions? What makes me try to take care of this body that betrayed me and killed my children (yes, I am being a bit melodramatic there, but only slightly)? I have to keep reminding myself of these truths:

1. My husband expects me to take care of myself. I know he will ask me when he gets home from work about what I ate today, whether or not I exercised, and I better have taken a shower and brushed my teeth or I'm sleeping on the couch!

2. My big girl needs her Mama. As much as I wish some days that I could just lie down and die and go be with my tiny babies, I know I could never do that to my June Bug. seeing her anxiety and pain when I was on bed rest and in the aftermath of losing Mikayla when she was worried I was going to die made me realize how how important it is to carry on for her sake.

3. My little ones would want their Mama to take care of herself. In loving my body while Mikayla and Selah were with me, I was loving them by extension. I shouldn't do any less now that they are gone. I can still love the body that was the only home they ever knew on earth.

4. My future babies (D.V.) depend on me being healthy. If I give in to my desires and let my body fall into decay, I am only hurting my chances of having healthy babies some day in the future. I need to do the best I can to be the healthiest home for my babies so that they might (with the help of God) be able to live in my womb long enough that they can also live in my arms.

5. My God has given me this body as a gift, and it is the temple of the Holy Spirit. I am called to care for what God has given me and use it for His glory to the best of my ability.

So while I am tempted to just give up and not care and let myself get fat and lazy and sick, I will fight it. I will do my best to take care of this body God has given me for however long He sees fit to let me live in it, and then I will welcome the new body and new life He will give.

STOP (Actually I lost track of time, so that may have been more than  minutes)

Day 9: Join the Praise

Day 9 of 31 Days of Healing ; following Kate's prompt - "Join" for 5 minutes of unedited free-write.



Welcome to the club, Jenna. The club of mothers who have little ones waiting for us in heaven. We know that no one wants to be a member of this club. The rite of passage to get in is one of the worst you will ever experience.

One thing I must say, though, is that the members here are incredibly supportive. We all know how much it sucks and how terrible it is to say good-bye to your baby, so we gather around any new recruits with open arms and flowing tears to embrace you with love and understanding.

Your little Shane joins a chorus of precious little souls who gather around the throne of our heavenly father, singing praise without ending to the one who gave them the blessing of being carried in a womb full of love, for however short a time, and the greater blessing of living for eternity free from suffering, sadness, and pain.

Jenna, I want to thank you on behalf of all of us in this club, for being brave enough to share your journey. Thank you for speaking out and letting others know that your baby matters, and by extension, our babies matter. Your Shane has touched the lives and hearts of thousands, and though our babies may only touch a few in our immediate families, they matter. Each one of them has changed the world just by being here, even the ones who never took a breathe of air outside the womb.

So we join together, a club of Mamas missing our Little Blessings, to sing praises to our Father who allowed us to carry them wrapped in our love, and gave us the strength to survive giving them back so soon.

We join together to praise through our tears. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away; Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Day 6: What I Know for Sure

Day 6 of 31 Days of Healing

In the wake of tragedy, so often we let our emotions run wild. Comfort and peace, however, are found in what I know about God and His plans for my life. I decided today to follow Kate's prompt: Know, and make a list of truths to repeat over to myself when I am tempted to give in to despair and anxiety and worry.

I KNOW:

• That God is on His throne  Isaiah 46:9-10  "I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me, declaring the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, ‘My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose.’"

• That He is working all things together for good (Romans 8:28)

• That my babies are in heaven, free from suffering in the arms of Jesus Revelation 21:4 "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

• That He who began a good work in me WILL carry it through to completion (Philippians 1:6)

• That I do not need to be anxious about anything, but rather I need to in everything by prayer and petition and with thanksgiving present my requests to God (Philippians 4:6)

There are so many things I don't know, and so many questions I still have, but I do KNOW that God is good all the time, and all the time, God is good. 

Day 5: Triggers

This morning I watched my beautiful June Bug sing on a stage, and she did such such an amazing job. Then they brought up the preschoolers to sing. It brought back memories of June Bug's first of such concerts, when she was 2 and got up on stage with her preschool class for their Christmas concert and proceeded to cry through the whole thing with her fingers in her mouth.

It also brought something else. The reminder that I won't get those memories for Mikayla, or for Selah.

In church this morning there were 2 different couples I knew were bringing their tiny babies to church, with everyone crowding around the car seats to coo over the sweet little bundles of joy, as I felt like a boulder had been dropped onto my stomach because those happy moments were ripped from my life.

Then tonight I was watching A Little Princess with June Bug, and when the main character said that her Mama was in heaven along with her baby sister it was all I could do to hold back the blubbering, knowing it was only by the grace of God that June Bug could only relate to half of that statement.

I don't know how long the rawness will last, or how often the scabs of my heart will be ripped off before the new skin finally grows back, leaving only the scar. Some days are better than others, and sometimes I am fine seeing pregnant women, tiny babies, etc. while other times something as simple as two sisters fighting in the supermarket can send me into all-out panic mode,

I am praying that God would work in my heart to help me count my blessings whenever the ugly green jealousy monster shows up. I am praying that He would help me overcome the envy and fill me up with love. I am praying that God would help me to cherish the moments I have with June Bug, without worrying that she may never get a sister or brother here on earth. I am praying that God would keep my heart soft and stop the pain from fermenting into bitterness, but rather blossom it into love and compassion for others.  

I can't stop the triggers from itching at my heart, but I can choose to look for the beauty and goodness of the Lord in all things, and to rejoice with those who rejoice even in the midst of my mourning.

And I will leave you with a poem:

Loved and Lost
Better to have loved and lost?
Even if your heart gets buried and crushed
Under the weight of snow and frost
In the winter of heartache where all joys are hushed?

Even if your heart gets buried and crushed
And all that remains are fragments and dust?
In the winter of heartache where all joys are hushed,
The naked trees whisper of Spring bound to come.

But all that remains are fragments and dust
And a shadow of a shell of a ghost.
Still the naked trees whisper of Spring bound to come,
"Better to have loved and lost!"

Five Minute Friday: Whisper

Prompt of the week for  minutes unedited writing: Whisper

GO:

I love the way God whispers in my life. Have you had this experience? Where it seems all the sermons you hear, all the devotionals you read, and all the testimonies of friends all seem to be sending the same message to your heart? It is times like these that I can feel the holy spirit moving the most.

Sometimes God shouts into our lives with one pivotal moment where the light-bulb goes on and we suddenly see truth from a new perspective and our lives will never be the same again. 

Other times He whispers. Quietly, persistently, gently whispering truth in our ear. And we say, "yes, God, I get it." And He whispers again, and you think, "Yes, I understand." And again you hear the whispering and if you are not careful you start to brush it off because you have heard it so many times from so many different places in so many different voices that you think it's old news. 

God's good news never grows old. Listen to the whispers. Hold them tight. Hide them in your heart.

I remember a time in college when I kept hearing sermons about sickness and death and pain. The topic kept coming up in school chapels, and devotionals I was reading. I even read several novels for enjoyment that touched on the same topic! 

And then BOOM. Out of no-where my father was diagnosed with kidney disease and my mother had cancer. I stood face-to-face with the possibility that death might take one, or both, of my parents. Suddenly all those whisperings came back to me, and were my anchor in the storm. They helped me remember that It Is Finished and death no longer has the last word.

Thankfully, after surgery the doctors discovered that the only cancerous cells in my mother had already been removed in the biopsy, and a willing friend was found who was a match and gave his kidney to my father. They are both still here to love on June-bug. 

Fast-forward to 2013. I always take notes in church, but I generally took notes on the bulletin which invariably ended up in the garbage. In November of 2013 I decided to start keeping the notes, so I got a notebook to take sermon notes in. (By the way, the one bulletin that "happened" to get stuck in between two books on a shelf instead of thrown away, was a sermon about Job's trials and God's sovereignty).

• December 8th the sermon was about God's purpose and plan.

• On December 15th, right after I found out I was pregnant with Mikayla, the pastor gave an incredible list of verses that are promises God gives to His people - I looked them all up and copied them into my notebook.

• On December 29th, the sermon title was: Is God Enough When I have Lost a Loved One?

• January 12th was about Jonah. One of the quotes I wrote down? "Run to Him and not from Him when troubles come."

• A follow-up on Jonah on January 26th, I have written down, "God can handle our anger. When you are angry, listen to others, express your emotions, trust God, and take Him at His word."

• March 1st, my aunt posted on Facebook about a free Kindle book about Romans 8 - I downloaded it and read through it over the next few weeks.

• March 16th, the sermon was all about our suffering and God's comfort.

• April 13th, Mikayla was stillborn.

• April 27th, the sermon was about the defeat of death. 

• June 24th, I downloaded another free Kindle book which I highly recommend:

•             A Place of Healing

• June 29th, the sermon was about walking in God's will.

• July 6th, I wept through most of the sermon about the beauty of heaven.

• July 13th, that very-difficult 3-month anniversary Sunday, I wrote down in my notes, "(Rev.1:4) is a reminder that we are not only saved by grace, but also kept by grace through times of trial, and peace comes as a result of that grace."

And I could go on and on about the little whispers of God's grace and comfort that He has injected into my daily living over the past year. All the little things that would have been easy to miss or dismiss or forget, but when all added together have been a powerful barge to keep me afloat in my sea of confusion and grief. 

I do not believe anything is a coincidence, and I know that God whispered each and every one of these truths into my life at the moments I needed them most. I am thankful that God prompted me to record them and keep them for when I am tempted to forget. And He keeps on whispering His words of love in my ear.

STOP.

Whoa. That was way more than five minutes, but it was worth it. What has God been whispering to you lately?

His Eye is on the Sparrow

One of the things that has been the most difficult for me in the aftermath of Mikayla's stillbirth is June-bug's reactions and questions. She has always been a very inquisitive child, and some of the thoughts she comes up with astound me.

Directly after the stillbirth, she showed some regression which I've read is pretty typical for children who experience trauma or loss. She started having bathroom accidents more often, and sucking on her fingers. Thankfully that has gotten better and though I still find her sucking her fingers every so often, it's not constant like it used to be.

The questions, though, have not let up.

I remember one night I was putting her to bed and we had been talking about the lizard we had seen in the backyard that afternoon. She piped up with, "Mommy, what makes lizards die?" We discussed different things like lack of food, old age, illness, being eaten by larger animals, etc. She then asked the same question of chickens (the other animal in our backyard). I had a feeling I knew where it was leading, but I continued giving her reasons chickens might die. Finally she asked, "Mommy, what makes peoples die?" At first I tried to skirt around the issue and listed things that were in common with the chickens and lizards: old age, illness, lack of food, getting hurt like in a car accident. She wasn't satisfied with that, however and added to my list, "Or when too much of their blood comes out because of the baby in their tummy?"

I was floored. I had no idea that she had been bottling up this knowledge (or suspicion at least) that I could have died if I had lost too much blood while I was pregnant. I realized that for her the trauma wasn't just the loss of a baby sister, but the fear of losing a mother as well!

Today we went to the park, just June-bug and me. We went on the swings, played on the see-saw, and I watched her go down each of the slides. She left the smallest slide for last, I think because it is the least exciting. As she walked over to climb the ladder onto the platform, I heard her gasp. When I rushed over (because I have become somewhat over-protective since April), I saw her pointing at a little sparrow.

The sparrow was obviously dead. It was not moving, and had ants crawling all over it. June-bug just sat and watched it for a few minutes, then said, "Mommy, that bird is dead, right?" I told her yes it was, and then she said, "Mommy, I can't take it home, right?" I told her no, you can't take dead things home. Then she asked, "Mommy, do sometimes people take dead birds home? You know, to try to make them better and not dead anymore?"

I must admit I teared up at that, but had to reply truthfully that once something is dead, people can't make it better. We can only make it better if it is only sick or hurt, and even then sometimes it will still die. June-bug took that in for a minute, then said she wished the bird was only sick so she could help it, because it was so cute and sweet, but then she added, "But if it wasn't dead it wouldn't be here. Not sitting here on the playground. It would be flying around in the sky or sitting in its nest."

She sat mournfully for a few minutes just looking at the little bird. Then she piped up, "People can't fix dead things, but Jesus takes people who die to heaven. Do you think heaven needs birdies, too?"

So I quoted her the scripture about God watching every sparrow that falls. She smiled then, and told me that Jesus would take this little bird to heaven and make it fly there for Baby Sissy to watch.

And my heart soared with the sparrows that God keeps an eye on, and I know He watches my June-bug and me.

Time

I was reading today over at A Bed For My Heart her thoughts about people saying it gets easier with time. I began thinking about time, and the time (though still short) since I joined the club no one wants to join - the bereaved mothers club.

I will say the pain doesn't feel as raw now. It doesn't sting quite as deep. The tears don't flow quite as easily or freely (at least in public - they still flow often and abundantly when I am alone!) as they once did.

I still have days I don't want to face the world, but I am learning to talk myself into doing whatever needs to get done instead of letting myself wallow over-long in my grief. The grief has not gotten any lighter, but I have gotten stronger and better at shifting the weight just so to keep it balanced. My heart and my arms still ache for the little one who should be a week old now, but I am learning to embrace the joy of each day as well.

I definitely wouldn't say it is easy now. I'm not even sure it is easier than it used to be. But I do know for sure that the only way I get through it at all is through Christ who strengthens me. It is often quoting scripture to myself that helps me out of the miry pit of wallowing. In my weakness, He is strong and carries my burdens with and for me when I can't dream of doing it myself. His goodness and mercy have filled my aching heart with joy.

Time alone will never make anything easier. Only sharing my burdens with the one who makes all things beautiful in His time will make them easier to bear. Only finding strength in Christ alone will make me strong enough to make it through. Only driving out the bitterness and anger and replacing them with the peace, joy, and love of God will heal my aching heart.

Five Minute Friday: Change

 


Prompt of the week: Change

GO:

It is amazing how quickly your life can change; how a woman can change from longing and hopeful but scared to hope too much, to ecstatic and filled with love and joy in a matter of seconds when those 2 pink lines pop up on the pregnancy test.

Or how she can change from ecstatic and filled with love and joy and hope, to devastated and broken and wondering how this could have just happened when they can't find a heartbeat.

How a missionary can change from being a doctor helping treat victims of an Ebola crisis to being a patient himself.

How an audience can change from seeing a comedian and laughing alongside him to seeing the ugly depths of depression.

How a young man can change from planning his college career to dead on the sidewalk full of bullets in a matter of 3 minutes.

Yes, life can change in an instant, and never be the same again. There are moments that leave you reeling. Change can rip your heart right out of your chest.

But what each life so desperately needs is a change. A change where the heart of stone melts into a heart of flesh.

What this sad and sin-soaked world needs is a change. A change in each individual's heart that will prompt change in a family, a community, a nation, a planet.

And I rest in knowing that NOTHING can change God's love. Not racism or bullets, not depression or suicide, not illness or disease, not stillbirth or aching hearts. God's love is greater than all of it.

God's love is the only thing that will never change. God's love is the only thing that will ever bring the change that we need.

Due Date

Today is the day.

August 18, 2014.

They call it the estimated due date because you never know when baby will actually arrive. Big sis JuneBug surprised us 3 weeks before her due date. One of my sisters surprised my mother by waiting almost 3 weeks after her due date! What women expect on their due dates is either to be waddling around with a watermelon belly about to pop, complaining about back pain and swollen ankles, or else shuffling like a zombie snuggling a teeny-weeny wrinkly newborn, changing poopy diapers and feeling like a 24/7 feeding station.

Instead I walk normally, with a (mostly)flat belly, well-rested. My body is not in pain, and on the outside I look just like anyone else.

But on the inside....

I can't help but thinking about what should have been. What could have been. What we are missing out on. I would give anything to trade an aching heart for an aching back and swollen ankles. I would give anything to trade these red-rimmed eyes from crying for red-rimmed eyes from waking every 2 hours to feed a newborn baby.

On this day I dreamed of introducing JuneBug to a new baby sister, instead she is snuggling her "baby sissy bear" (thank you projectbear.com !) and asking when God will send her a "real" sister or brother.

I'm debating between trying to do something special and meaningful today, or just wallowing in my sorrow and shutting the world out for a while.

13

They say the number 13 is bad luck. I have never really been superstitious about numbers, but boy do I hate the number 13 today.

April 13th, 2014 will be a date that will be seared on my brain for as long as I live. And now today, July 13th, marks 3 months, and exactly 13 weeks since that day my world was turned up-side down and I had to say good-bye to a daughter before ever getting the chance to say hello.

13 weeks. 13 Sundays re-living the horror as I inevitably wake up early morning, around 5 or 6, the time I gave birth 13 weeks ago (why do I never wake up on other nights?). Tomorrow will be the 13th Monday, when I should be adding another week to my pregnancy count (it would be 35) but instead look down at my empty belly with an ache inside instead of a child.

But I am glad I woke up this morning in time for church. I'm glad I forced myself to go through getting ready, putting on clothes, eating breakfast even though I didn't feel like doing anything but throwing the covers back over my head and shutting the world out for a day.

This morning the pastor preached on Revelation 1. He focused on the love of God, and the encouragement that John was sending to the people in the churches who were experiencing trials and persecution. He also focused on the phrase, "who is and was, and is to come." He spoke that John put "is" first in order to encourage us that God is not just the God of the past or the God of the future, but He is God right here and right now, present with us at this very moment.

As he summed up the sermon this morning, I felt like he was speaking directly to me when He said, "Whatever  pain and trials you are facing, always remember that God's love is greater than our pain."

I still hate 13. It's still a hard day. But I am comforted remembering as one of the songs we sang this morning said, "He has hidden my life in the depths of His love, and covered me there with His hand." So I spend my 13th Sunday, July 13th, not huddled alone in bed under the bedspread, but lovingly tucked into the love of God, covered by His loving hand.