Katherine rocked our world. My love for her was intense. I had a few years of parenting under my belt. I had learned from my 'mistakes' with my other kiddos. I had grown in patience and understanding in child development, I had mastered "in my own biased opinion" the art of balancing a multiple kid family. It had taken 4years but I had finally found my groove as a mother. I knew exactly what kind of mother I wanted to be like. I granted myself the gift of grace, patience and understanding, and that gift poured over into my children's lives. I had so much fun with Ellie and Zach preparing for our transition from a family a 4 to a family of 5. It truly was a beautiful, grace filled, 9months of pregnancy bliss. I didn't complain about my pregnancy with Katherine, I enjoyed every single moment with her. And I enjoyed every single moment with my other children as well. After years of struggle, doubting, questioning my mothering skills, I finally felt like I was good to go. I felt like I was made to have babies, and to be a mother, and it all finally felt so right. I saw Katherine as another stamp of God's approval of my life and what I had made of it.
So when Katherine died, somewhat from a direct result of my birthing choices, it was a significant blow to my heart. Everything that I had poured myself into for years now crumbling before my very eyes. If I couldn't make choices that would have brought my daughter safely into this world then how could I trust that I could make the right choices continually for any of my kiddos? I mean...I failed....I failed to believe that a rare thing could happen to me....I failed to believe that I could possibly fall into a 1-5% category...I failed to believe that God wouldn't allow a horrible tragedy to befall on me. I mean I had done, (what I considered) my fair share of suffering in life...surely God wouldn't allow more than the "usual" stuff to happen to me now. But he did....and how was I going to recover from this?
It's hard to learn to live again after child loss. Maybe that is true
after any loss...but child loss, well there is something about that
type of loss that just isn't right. For me the depth of guilt I have
felt after losing Katherine has been so tremendous that even looking at
my living kiddos at times surges more grief into my heart. Not only did I
fail Katherine, but I failed these other two precious children that
were counting on me to bring them home a baby sister. They spent months
rubbing my belly, talking to the baby, giving her checkups, and
preparing their rooms and their hearts for her. Zachary was so excited
to enter a new stage of sibling hood...to get to be a big brother, he
had the title of brother but not the title of "big" and it was so
exciting to him. Sweet Ellie was excited that she was finally going to
get to be like her other friends and have a little sister, a companion
to share a room with, tell secrets to, play dress up, learn how to do
make up, and experiment with each others hair, another little girl that,
in her world, would actually enjoy playing dolls with her. My children
lost all of these dreams when they lost their sister. I felt, like in
many ways, pieces of their innocence were stolen from them that night
Katherine died. I, especially at times feel as though their trust in me
was broken that night as well.
I remember telling them
over and over again between contractions to "go and play" the baby was
coming and mommy was hurting but that everything would be "okay." Ellie
recently revealed to me that she was really scared during this time and
that she felt alone, that she wanted to help but that she didn't know
what she could do..I remember both she and Zach checked on me over and
over again and while it was one of the most painful, alone times, I have
ever felt. At the same time I had these two gorgeous little people that
loved me so great that they endured their fear, they stepped up in
courage, and they reminded me in my darkest hour that they, they of all
people were still right there with me because they loved me. Looking
back I can see how tremendously beautiful they were in that moment.
In
the immediate moments after losing Katherine and waking up from my
surgery I remember saying to God "Why, why am I still alive? Is it just
to grieve over my dead baby? Why have you done this to me? Why am I not
with you? I should be with you, I should be seeing your face, not
this...not this...just not this." The thoughts running through my mind
were no where near "Thy will be done." or"He gives and takes away,
blessed be the name." No, the cry of my heart was one where I felt
betrayed by the God I had been trusting in to bring my daughter safely
to my arms. I was so broken, utterly broken.
People have this
misconception that somehow having living children will minimize the ache
a parent feels when they lose 1 child and while it can help to have
someone to pour all the extra love you have for the deceased child on
another; at times it can also feel like a cruel joke pouring your love
meant for one child onto another. It makes one feel like they are
betraying the other child. And it doesn't always feel natural. It's a
strange concept to grasp if you have never lost a child of your own but
it is very very real...it doesn't mean I love my other children any less
it just means that each of my children have their own special unique
love that I give to them and it doesn't always feel right sharing that
unique love with the others. But hey, I don't believe anymore that it
needs to make sense to you I just know that it is a reality for me and
there is no simple way of healing from child loss. There is no "one size
fits all" when it comes to healing after loss.
My healing has been extremely messy. I have had moments of great faith, fully relying on the grace of God to get me through the day, and then I have had moments where I have wanted nothing to do with the God that allowed me to experience such a terrible tragedy. I have had moments where I have sang whole heartily "it will be my joy to say, your will, your way." and other moments where I have spent most of my Sunday morning in bed because the thought of worshiping God felt like nothing more than an empty emotion, and I hate empty emotions.
I am certainly not the poster child of suffering when it comes to the majority of christian culture. When we want to hear nothing but "God's got you. You'll never fail with him." I've probably uttered the hard reality of "God's got your salvation, you'll at least never lose that with him." My faith has certainly been changed by every wave. Sometimes the christian culture pressure of serving the lord in hardship with joy in your heart and a smile on your face really adds into my feeling so defeated on this journey. I fall so miserably short, every single time.
Recently, I have been reminded about how little the results of my faith aids in my right standing with God. Scripture tells us that in order to have right standing with God all we need to do is believe 1. That Jesus is the Son of God, that he died and rose again. Period...Yes, there is plenty of scripture that challenges us to not just stay dead in our sins, challenges us to grow more into the image of Jesus...but those things are the result of our faith not the the things that keep us in the faith. If I were honest I would say that my faith these past 2and1/2years as been one of clinging to the basic creed that Jesus is the son of God, that he died for the transgressions of my sins, and he rose again. Because all the other doctrines have been muddled in my brain. I can't seem to grasp how so many doctrines I once held to now fit in my 1less child world view. Some doctrines once comforted my heart and now they seem to only cause my heart more discomfort. I have wrestled and wrestled and wrestled and have come to find peace in only this...God's grace.
Because in holding to just that 1 basic creed, I have held on to more hope than I could possibly fully comprehend. Every time I fall short, every time, I don't say the right thing, worship in the right way, serve with the right amount of joy. Every time I doubt, every time I wander, every time I struggle to praise the God who is worthy of my praise, the grace of Jesus holds me steadfast in God's eyes. While I fully believe we must always be willing to lay aside ourselves, our rights, our perceived hurts, even when we refuse to do so Jesus steps in and covers us with his grace, not because I'm a great person and I've done enough to prove my faith. He is a gracious god who will keep his promises to me, no matter how I may fail him. I believe that he is the son of God, that he died for my sins, that he rose again. That is tremendous hope during times when we feel like, and know, the results of our faith aren't quite measuring up. Here's the beautiful thing about this reality, it has put a spring back into my heart, taken pressure off of my soul, and truly aided in bringing me rest.
So when my faith is more like the doubtful, double minded, man in the book of James being tossed by every wave, I know that I stand on grace. The foundation of Jesus that I stand on is strong and so while all my other bricks may have come tumbling down it is a beauty to know that my foundation is strong and ready to be built on again.
Hope, grace, Jesus, is a beautiful gift.
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