In Medias Res

Let me first say that Christmas is my favorite holiday. I love it, family gathering, yummy food, focusing on Jesus and the wonder and love that came in a tiny little package to save the entire world. I look forward to Christmas beginning in January. I hold off from listening to Christmas music and decorating until the beginning of December, because I never want to get sick of it. I never could understand why anyone would feel like Christmas was a hard time of year... until now.
Tomorrow is my due date, and considering that I can't go to my due date, the sadness of knowing that our little one would be here is constantly on my mind.  And in this season of celebrating a baby who came to take away our suffering, I feel slighted. God, why did you let this happen to me?!?

 

It's my birthday today, I'm 31.

Here's what I have to say to my 31st year (which really I guess is my 32nd year)... You don't have to work very hard to be better than 30.

Also, I am thankful that we didn't receive the ashes today. I was worried that of all days, they would have showed up today. Thank you Lord, for sparing me the agony of receiving the one teaspoon of ashes that I will get of my child that I'll never know, on my birthday.

My life is full of great friends, it has been humbling and comforting to have gone through the loss if this life with so many people who love me and the child that we will never have. When I am having a hard day, which I have had every day for the last two and a half weeks, without fail I have had a friend comfort me in the exact way that I needed. Through e-mails, meals, listening ears, hugs, ability to relate, cards, flowers, phone calls, etc. friends have been giving me strength that I have desperately needed.

One such friend gave me an immediately treasured gift; a worksheet that when worked through creates a biblical lament. I have really found it hard to do, but very therapeutic. I have written two... Of all the Psalmists laments, there is only one, Psalm 88, that doesn't end in a praise point back at God's goodness.  I have clung to the importance of there being one such lament, because even though I know that God isn't mean, He sure looks mean right now.  I hope to one day be able to end a lament in praise, but that is just not where I am at right now. And I am so grateful that even though I can't sing His praise, He still pursues me and keeps the lines of communication open. He hasn't slammed the door in my face and he never will. I am so glad that we have a Lord who can love is through our pain, sadness, and anger... even when it we take it out on Him.

I haven't written on here for a few days because I realized that I need to be hand writing/ journaling through this. There is just something about my hand on a pen and paper that "feels" better than typing. As time goes on, I may share more on here, but for a while I will be taking my grief writing private. Perhaps I'll share again once I have a lament that ends in praise.

Psalm 88

LORD, you are the God who saves me;
   day and night I cry out to you.
May my prayer come before you;
   turn your ear to my cry.

I am overwhelmed with troubles
   and my life draws near to death.
I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
   I am like one without strength.
I am set apart with the dead,
   like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more,
   who are cut off from your care.

You have put me in the lowest pit,
   in the darkest depths.
Your wrath lies heavily on me;
   you have overwhelmed me with all your waves.
You have taken from me my closest friends
   and have made me repulsive to them.
I am confined and cannot escape;
 my eyes are dim with grief.

I call to you, LORD, every day;
   I spread out my hands to you.
Do you show your wonders to the dead?
   Do their spirits rise up and praise you?
Is your love declared in the grave,
   your faithfulness in Destruction?
Are your wonders known in the place of darkness,
   or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?

But I cry to you for help, LORD;
   in the morning my prayer comes before you.
Why, LORD, do you reject me
   and hide your face from me?

From my youth I have suffered and been close to death;
   I have borne your terrors and am in despair.
Your wrath has swept over me;
   your terrors have destroyed me.
All day long they surround me like a flood;
   they have completely engulfed me.
You have taken from me friend and neighbor--
   darkness is my closest friend.

 

I'm hiding today.

This week, I have been to small group and book club, but I just am not ready for casual social gatherings. 

Miles and the kids are at Anna and Everett's birthday party... I'm supposed to be there, but I'm hiding.

Later today, a sweet friend is having a baby shower... I'm supposed to be there, I actually was supposed to be helping to plan and pull it off, but I'm hiding.

Today I'll spend quite a bit of time talking myself into going to church tomorrow. I want to go, it's just the sad eyes again. Miles said that I just need to pretend like I don't expect people to be sad for me, but I can't; you all betray yourselves with you eyes. It's great, I am so thankful that so many people love us and are sad for us and the loss of this life, but en masse, it's hard to endure and remain emotionally removed from the crushing grief that I am feeling... in public. So I am hiding today, and psyching myself up for tomorrow; wish me luck!

 

1. This didn't happen with my first two pregnancies. I know that I can and have had success having children.

2. The doctors, nurses, and other hospital staff were wonderful, professional, and did their best to make a horrific situation bearable.

3. I have a healthy son and a healthy daughter, and so the fact that we will never know if this was a boy or a girl is a little easier to deal with.

4. My mom was planning to come out even before we found out about the baby's death. She would have come out anyway, but it was one less thing to figure out at the time.

5. I'm 30 and have years and years of good reproductive ability left in me.

6. This happened at one of the only times this year that we don't have 5 other things going on. We were/ are able to take a step back and have the freedom to grieve, feeling no stress to put it aside and deal with the next thing on our list. I am so thankful for this, as I have really struggled just keeping up with daily activity.

7. They are letting us have the ashes; I was worried that our child would have to be disposed of without the possibility of us participating. But they will send us the baby's ashes and we get to lay our child to rest. I think I am going to take the ashes out west to our cabin at Bear Lake.

8. I never got to hold this child. This seems strange, I know, but I didn't know this child, there are so many question marks that surround this life that I don't have a concrete relationship to point to and miss. I miss this life, of course, but we know that we were shown mercy that we didn't have to experience the loss of a child that we met.

9. The medical/ physical side to this loss has gone as smoothly and as uncomplicated as possible.

10. God put into my life, Miles. I couldn't go through this with anyone else; he is such a great husband, father and best friend. He has stepped up where I have stumbled, and kept things going even when I haven't been able to.  I am not perfect, or anywhere near it and I am extended mercy and grace from Miles everyday and I am so glad that I get to spend my life with him, even if we have to go through terrible times like this. I wouldn't want to go through it without him.

 

Tonight we have small group. Right now I don't want to go. Re-entry back into life seems daunting.  It's the problem of what I call "sad eyes" I feel like that is all I get from people, their sad eyes staring out at me. It makes me feel broken and vulnerable and grief stricken. Which I am all of those things, but seeing it reflected on the faces of people that I love and care about is hard.

I have been in a cocoon since last Monday, Miles and Ashley played great interference, sheltering me form the brunt of other's grief, which I appreciated. My mom came and that was both great distraction and gave me a sense of strength that I didn't have. But she went home yesterday, and tonight I have to go to small group. Actually I don't HAVE to go, I could skip again, but I can't skip forever... I miss seeing my small group and learning about Joshua, and so now is as good a time as any to get it over with. That's what I feel like, having to get re-entry over with. I just want it to be over with, all the sad eyes.

Tell me that you're sorry, but know there is nothing that you can do. It's a sad and lonely club that no one wants to be part of and one that can't be sympathized away.

I am so thankful for all of the cards, e-mails, phone calls, meals, flowers, and care; please do not think that I am not. I just need to be able to say that I am scared and anxious about entering back into community with people because I am going to be sad.  I don't want it to be the only thing we talk about. I have a lot of pregnant friends and friend who have just had babies and I don't want conversations about pregnancy and baby's to be hushed when I walk into a room. I don't want my loss to change my relationships with people.  But it will, for a time, while it is the first thing that I think about when I wake up and the last thing that I think about when I go to bed. It has changed who I am and how I see the world, and it will take time to return to being easy going, happy, fun... those thing just don't describe me right now... maybe that is what I am most anxious about, maybe my friends wont like the me trying to get over the sadness.

 I know this is totally not true, I have GREAT friends who have stood by us, loving and supporting us just the way we have needed... but as I sit here trying to read the chapters in the book of Joshua that we will be talking about tonight, my mind wanders to the feeling that re-entry to my social life is going to be bumpy.