There is that old saying "Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all." It was often quoted to us in the first months after losing Katherine. I hated that quote...for months I hated that quote. I hated it because in my heart and in my head all I could think of was "No, it isn't.....Love hurts too much. This hurts too much. I don't have the strength to love anymore. I don't want to do it. These tears, this seemingly endless torment of pain and suffering, if this is the result of love....I don't want it....take it back."
For months it was a constant battle between wanting to embrace my love and hurt and just wanting it to go away. Dark, dark, days, some dark, dark months.....
However, almost 7months later and the light is beginning to shine again.
I told a friend, and I also told my therapist the other day that I sense I am about to reach a turning point in my grief. One where it isn't gone, or done, as it is always going to be there rearing it's head at different times, but one where I (dare say) appreciate it.
An appreciated grief means that I finally rejoice at the fact that Katherine existed...even if it was so short and "only" in my womb....she existed beautifully. I am reaching a point where the remembrance of her kicks (though hard some days) brings a smile to my face other days, the way her little personality was playing out inside my womb.One where the thought of her short, glorious existence, makes me hope and points my eyes to the one that created her and the one that holds her now.
The grief is still there, the bad days still come, the hopelessness at times prevails, but it doesn't get to have the final say. My life is better now because Katherine existed, even just for a short time. In the midst of all the hurt and pain, my soul is better because she existed, God is growing me, stretching me and being glorified through me because she existed. This grief, though painful, and at times overwhelming, is an appreciated grief because it means she existed, God was working then and is working now, that there is so many more pieces of the puzzle that have yet been placed in the picture and this jagged piece fits gloriously into that picture.
I can't wait for heaven, for the day the Lord shows me the full picture, and how Katherine's existence, life, and death fits in the middle of it all.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Why my grief is still so raw Part 2
Now that you have the full story surrounding Katherine's death maybe my feelings won't seem so unusual now.
I recently read a book called Captivating by John and Staci Eldridge, it is a great counseling book. One that explains well what makes women, well women. Beyond just the physical anatomy but it dives into the very soul of what makes women, women. It talks about things like beauty, and vulnerability, strength, adventure, and romance. I highly recommend it to both women and men as it is incredibly insightful. I may not agree with everything the authors say but they do have several truths. Though this book isn't about baby loss it does dive into the soul of a woman and upon reading it I have been able to realize why this loss is affecting me so much. It isn't just because I lost a child...and I shouldn't say "just" as anyone that has lost a child at any age could tell you that losing your child just isn't right. It upsets the entire order of how things should be even in our death filled world. It hurts on so many levels...Upon reading this book I've come to realize that losing Katherine attacked me at my very core in my soul as a woman. Here's a few examples...
Losing Katherine attacked my beauty. It is not uncommon for women to struggle with their beauty and seeing themselves as beautiful. I battled for years struggling to find the beauty that is me. For years, I have hated the way that I look, for what my sin and gluttonous desires have done to my body, I ate and ate because at my core I didn't think I was a gem, I didn't think I was beautiful and I treated my body as such. And then when I stopped being gluttonous...when I won the battle to not just give into my every desire I struggled to see my beauty because of what I had done to myself. It took me several years to accept the fact that I couldn't change my past and to accept the fact that my eating healthy and exercising was pleasing to God and that he no longer judged me for the sins of my past but loved me and all of "my wobbly" bits just as I am now. It took years for me to accept the fact that the conquering of one sin has more than just to do with the number on a scale and then I finally had reached that point. I finally reached the point where I could look at myself in the mirror and not see just fat but I could see for all the beauty both physical, spiritual, and emotional that I had. Years of fighting and finally I had a peace and a confidence not because of me but because I saw God's grace and goodness in me. Then the body that was supposed to produce life and be life giving aided in destroying a life. My body killed my baby, there is no other way around it. What once was beautiful was now very very ugly in my eyes and now I have to face the battle of beauty all over again.
Losing Katherine attacked my strength. I don't know if you have ever had a near death experience but I obviously have. There is something about dying and having to be brought back to life that affects the core of your person hood. I am thankful that I am living but knowing that not only did my body not have the strength to safely deliver my child but also didn't have the strength to keep me alive at one point as left me feeling defeated.
Losing Katherine attacked my vulnerability. In the moments in having to call and explain to people that the baby girl that they had hoped for and loved on with me was gone I couldn't tell you how many "What happened? WHY DIDN'T you" remarks that we received. In the most vulnerable weakest point of my life I felt attacked and defenseless because I had no reasonable answers. As I said before, had Katherine been born alive everyone would be applauding my efforts for not just getting a c-section sooner, but because she had died what would have been a triumphant victory became a "you're so senseless and stupid" moment. While I am sure that many would say "oh that's not what we were thinking at all" I KNOW it wasn't logically, but my feelings say another thing and while I can't let my feelings dictate me they are real and I still have to fight them.
Losing Katherine attacked my sense of adventure. I am scared now. I am scared to try to have another baby because even though I would like one I have no idea what in the world will happen and I can stand the thought that I could lose another baby. I don't think my heart could take it. I can't stand the thought of moving far away from Katherine's grave even though I know she really isn't there. I can't stand the thought of trying new things, and I am plagued by anxiety because of the unknown. Where once an adventurous spirit was now is a fear laced spirit and one that I have to battle and fight everyday.
Losing Katherine attacked my sense of Romance. Every woman wants that one person to rise up and defend her, fight for her, save her, and while please oh please read this correctly I DO NOT BLAME MY HUSBAND ....at the same time my husband would admit that he failed me that night. He placed finishing his shift at work above coming home and being with me sooner. He made little decisions that night that I will not go into details here that were for himself and not for me or for Katherine. again I don't blame my husband had this been a normal labor like we all thought it was none of his decisions would be a big deal...but because it wasn't a normal labor his decisions left me feeling like I was all alone and as if no one was advocating for me. My husband would tell you this himself as well. I do not blame him for Katherine's death. But my sense of romance, the someone will take care of me, was attacked and I have been looking for ways to take care of myself since.
These are all just small samples and certainly not every battle that I am facing. Now take these examples and add in Postpartum depression, and a lack of social support in my immediate area and one may understand a little more why my grief is still so very raw and very heavy. I assure you though I am getting help, and "REAL" therapy but many of these issues at the core took years to face the first time and losing Katherine reopened a lot of past wounds and hurt that now have to be dealt with all over again. Trauma is never easily over come and any woman that has had to labor and give birth to her dead baby would tell you that she was definitely traumatized by it. So for the outside world watching us grieving Momma's who are brave enough to share our vulnerability with you be gracious with us, pray for us, find ways to love on us and hope with us. We are doing our best to be gracious and loving towards you even if we do hide ourselves away some days.
I recently read a book called Captivating by John and Staci Eldridge, it is a great counseling book. One that explains well what makes women, well women. Beyond just the physical anatomy but it dives into the very soul of what makes women, women. It talks about things like beauty, and vulnerability, strength, adventure, and romance. I highly recommend it to both women and men as it is incredibly insightful. I may not agree with everything the authors say but they do have several truths. Though this book isn't about baby loss it does dive into the soul of a woman and upon reading it I have been able to realize why this loss is affecting me so much. It isn't just because I lost a child...and I shouldn't say "just" as anyone that has lost a child at any age could tell you that losing your child just isn't right. It upsets the entire order of how things should be even in our death filled world. It hurts on so many levels...Upon reading this book I've come to realize that losing Katherine attacked me at my very core in my soul as a woman. Here's a few examples...
Losing Katherine attacked my beauty. It is not uncommon for women to struggle with their beauty and seeing themselves as beautiful. I battled for years struggling to find the beauty that is me. For years, I have hated the way that I look, for what my sin and gluttonous desires have done to my body, I ate and ate because at my core I didn't think I was a gem, I didn't think I was beautiful and I treated my body as such. And then when I stopped being gluttonous...when I won the battle to not just give into my every desire I struggled to see my beauty because of what I had done to myself. It took me several years to accept the fact that I couldn't change my past and to accept the fact that my eating healthy and exercising was pleasing to God and that he no longer judged me for the sins of my past but loved me and all of "my wobbly" bits just as I am now. It took years for me to accept the fact that the conquering of one sin has more than just to do with the number on a scale and then I finally had reached that point. I finally reached the point where I could look at myself in the mirror and not see just fat but I could see for all the beauty both physical, spiritual, and emotional that I had. Years of fighting and finally I had a peace and a confidence not because of me but because I saw God's grace and goodness in me. Then the body that was supposed to produce life and be life giving aided in destroying a life. My body killed my baby, there is no other way around it. What once was beautiful was now very very ugly in my eyes and now I have to face the battle of beauty all over again.
Losing Katherine attacked my strength. I don't know if you have ever had a near death experience but I obviously have. There is something about dying and having to be brought back to life that affects the core of your person hood. I am thankful that I am living but knowing that not only did my body not have the strength to safely deliver my child but also didn't have the strength to keep me alive at one point as left me feeling defeated.
Losing Katherine attacked my vulnerability. In the moments in having to call and explain to people that the baby girl that they had hoped for and loved on with me was gone I couldn't tell you how many "What happened? WHY DIDN'T you" remarks that we received. In the most vulnerable weakest point of my life I felt attacked and defenseless because I had no reasonable answers. As I said before, had Katherine been born alive everyone would be applauding my efforts for not just getting a c-section sooner, but because she had died what would have been a triumphant victory became a "you're so senseless and stupid" moment. While I am sure that many would say "oh that's not what we were thinking at all" I KNOW it wasn't logically, but my feelings say another thing and while I can't let my feelings dictate me they are real and I still have to fight them.
Losing Katherine attacked my sense of adventure. I am scared now. I am scared to try to have another baby because even though I would like one I have no idea what in the world will happen and I can stand the thought that I could lose another baby. I don't think my heart could take it. I can't stand the thought of moving far away from Katherine's grave even though I know she really isn't there. I can't stand the thought of trying new things, and I am plagued by anxiety because of the unknown. Where once an adventurous spirit was now is a fear laced spirit and one that I have to battle and fight everyday.
Losing Katherine attacked my sense of Romance. Every woman wants that one person to rise up and defend her, fight for her, save her, and while please oh please read this correctly I DO NOT BLAME MY HUSBAND ....at the same time my husband would admit that he failed me that night. He placed finishing his shift at work above coming home and being with me sooner. He made little decisions that night that I will not go into details here that were for himself and not for me or for Katherine. again I don't blame my husband had this been a normal labor like we all thought it was none of his decisions would be a big deal...but because it wasn't a normal labor his decisions left me feeling like I was all alone and as if no one was advocating for me. My husband would tell you this himself as well. I do not blame him for Katherine's death. But my sense of romance, the someone will take care of me, was attacked and I have been looking for ways to take care of myself since.
These are all just small samples and certainly not every battle that I am facing. Now take these examples and add in Postpartum depression, and a lack of social support in my immediate area and one may understand a little more why my grief is still so very raw and very heavy. I assure you though I am getting help, and "REAL" therapy but many of these issues at the core took years to face the first time and losing Katherine reopened a lot of past wounds and hurt that now have to be dealt with all over again. Trauma is never easily over come and any woman that has had to labor and give birth to her dead baby would tell you that she was definitely traumatized by it. So for the outside world watching us grieving Momma's who are brave enough to share our vulnerability with you be gracious with us, pray for us, find ways to love on us and hope with us. We are doing our best to be gracious and loving towards you even if we do hide ourselves away some days.
Why my grief is still so raw Part 1....
I was recently posed the question "Why is your grief still so raw?" I am not mad about this question as it was asked in a way of wanting to understand where I am at, why I am feeling what I am feeling, and it was asked by someone that has never experienced the loss of a baby. I have time to answer that question now.
I want to share the answer to that question here because I know that there are probably many that are like "It's been 6months...should she really be grieving this hard still. Maybe she isn't thankful enough for what she has...all she is thinking about is her dead baby....Can't she just go on living?" And while some of these thoughts may come from judgmental people I choose to believe that the majority of people that may think this way towards me actually just come from a place of wanting to understand, I really have no ill will towards them and I want to offer my perspective...starting at a place where I have only shared with a few people. So to understand why I still feel the way I feel, I think first you need to know the story behind it.
On July 29th, I had an appointment with my midwife to discuss whether or not we should still pursue with a vbac (vaginal birth after c-cesarean). I had an ultrasound the day before measuring my beautiful Katherine at the maximum weight of 10.5pds...because Katherine was so big my midwife consulted with an OB in the practice and it was decided that a c-section would probably be the best route to take. We did not object but was disappointed as I was completley healthy and ACOG states that a repeat c-section for a big baby alone is not reason enough to do a repeat c-section. But I didn't want to argue as I was 39weeks pregnant and tired and so desired to hold my precious Katherine. My midwife came back and said that I would need to meet with the OB on Thursday (the 31st) too schedule the c-section...and also stated as she was leaving the room that "who knows maybe you will go into labor by then and you won't have to have the surgery." I share this with you only to make it understood that in no way were we told that having VBAC was going to put Katherine's and my life in danger and under no circumstances should it be pursued. I won't go into all the reasons why we thought a VBAC was going to be best, there are studies after studies that have shown why c-sections are not the best way to bring a baby into the world but this is not the post for that.
Anyways, we went home on the 29th hoping for labor to begin before the 31st so I would not have to have a repeat c-section. I consulted my doula (birth assistant) about what my midwife had said, the planned repeat c-section, and together we decided that trying some natural inductions would probably be a good thing at this point...and I would just like to say that had Katherine been born alive everyone would probably applaud all of our decisions. So on the 30th I woke up and took some castor oil, and at about 3:00 that afternoon I took a small dose of co-hosh herb that has been known to cause contractions and start labor (which is why it is not recommended for pregnant woman) but seeing that we wanted labor to start we saw it as a good thing to take.
At about 5:30pm I started to experience some mild contractions...I texted my husband at 6 that he should come home and for whatever reason he wasn't able to leave work until 6:30. At this point we were trying to stick to my birth plan which was for me to relax and labor at home for a little bit before going to the hospital. Carl got home around 7:30 and we called a friend to come and pick up our kiddos. By the time the kiddos were out the door it was about 8:30. At which points the contractions were really intense and I was starting to sense that something wasn't going right. We called our doula and I wasn't able to talk and Carl thought that it was just really intense contractions but that I may not really be in actual labor and that it may have just been the stuff that I took. My doula said she was on her way to our house all in all the phone conversation ended at about 9:00pm between 9 and 9:20 for whatever reason I just decided (though I was feeling okay) that I wanted to go to the hospital and to forget the birth plan. My doula arrived and it was about somewhere between 9:30 and 9:45 when I was able to make it to the car and we were able to get on the road to the hospital.
It was in the car that labor really picked and things started to go wrong. I was experiencing the worst pain I had ever felt in my life, and the bumpy road surely wasn't helping. Still Carl and my doula were hoping it was just labor but my instincts were telling me that the contractions and pain that I was feeling just wasn't normal. I began to get scared and sensing that something was deeply wrong I hollered for my husband to pull the car over about 10mins into our trip towards the hospital...we managed to pull into a burger king parking lot where I demanded that an ambulance be called and take me the rest of the way to the hospital. In the time we were waiting for the ambulance I felt something pop and then what I thought was just Katherine moving...and then the contractions just stopped...and then the burning began. It is a burning that I can only describe as someone taking a lighter or a match and setting fire to the insides of my abdominal wall. We didn't know it then but the popping was my uterus splitting open and Katherine moving was her coming out and into the abdominal wall...she was most likely already dead at this point.
It felt like an eternity for the ambulance to arrive and then I got into the ambulance and was on the way to the closest hospital...the whole way there I was screaming for a c-section. I arrived and being a small hospital we had to wait for the on call doctor to get there...the whole entire waiting period was probably only like 10mins but again it felt like an eternity and I remember at one looking into my doula's eyes and thinking that I was a dead and she must be an angel (because she has the prettiest blue eyes I have ever seen) it wasn't until she started talking to me that I realized I wasn't dead yet. I literally had the thought "I don't want her to be the last person I ever see again, where is my husband? I need to tell him I love him."
Apparently, this whole time I was just so immersed in pain that I was tossing and turning and it took several people to hold me down in order to get IV's started and to do the ultrasound that would reveal that Katherine was gone. When the doctor arrived and told us Katherine was dead in that moment I thought "I am going to die then too." I kept hollering for a c-section and believe it or not ultrasounds don't reveal uterine ruptures so at this point everyone was still thinking I was just a panicked laboring woman but I knew, I knew what must have happened, and I knew that if I didn't get to surgery soon I was going to die too. when I finally got rolled back to surgery I just kept asking that they try to bring Katherine back to life. And then I remember saying "It burns, It burns, It burns" and I remember the anesthesiologist stroking my forehead and telling me that he was going to make it stop and then I was out. At some point shortly after being put under I stopped breathing and needed to be resuscitated it was found later that I had gone septic because of all the birth fluid that had slowly been leaking into my system. I lost a lot of blood and would have been given a blood transfusion if it wasn't for the fact that the transfusion itself may had killed me. So basically we had to hope and pray that my body would heal itself.
When I came out it was somewhere after 2:00am and I was told that Katherine was removed from my abdomen at 12:10...she was the first thing I asked about and I was crushed to know that she was still dead. The days that followed were devastating...We had to watch our kiddos be crushed when the little sister they had been hoping and longing for would not get to come home with them. We had to pick out a casket, pick out music, we had to try to get pictures taken, answer questions of what happened, and why did you do this, why didn't you do that, all the while I was healing from a major surgery.
So you see...I didn't just experience a loss I experienced a very real life changing trauma, and if you ask any trauma expert trauma isn't just miraculously recovered from it takes time to heal the wounds that are inflicted on a persons heart when trauma is experienced. I will go into some of those wounds in my next post.
I want to share the answer to that question here because I know that there are probably many that are like "It's been 6months...should she really be grieving this hard still. Maybe she isn't thankful enough for what she has...all she is thinking about is her dead baby....Can't she just go on living?" And while some of these thoughts may come from judgmental people I choose to believe that the majority of people that may think this way towards me actually just come from a place of wanting to understand, I really have no ill will towards them and I want to offer my perspective...starting at a place where I have only shared with a few people. So to understand why I still feel the way I feel, I think first you need to know the story behind it.
On July 29th, I had an appointment with my midwife to discuss whether or not we should still pursue with a vbac (vaginal birth after c-cesarean). I had an ultrasound the day before measuring my beautiful Katherine at the maximum weight of 10.5pds...because Katherine was so big my midwife consulted with an OB in the practice and it was decided that a c-section would probably be the best route to take. We did not object but was disappointed as I was completley healthy and ACOG states that a repeat c-section for a big baby alone is not reason enough to do a repeat c-section. But I didn't want to argue as I was 39weeks pregnant and tired and so desired to hold my precious Katherine. My midwife came back and said that I would need to meet with the OB on Thursday (the 31st) too schedule the c-section...and also stated as she was leaving the room that "who knows maybe you will go into labor by then and you won't have to have the surgery." I share this with you only to make it understood that in no way were we told that having VBAC was going to put Katherine's and my life in danger and under no circumstances should it be pursued. I won't go into all the reasons why we thought a VBAC was going to be best, there are studies after studies that have shown why c-sections are not the best way to bring a baby into the world but this is not the post for that.
Anyways, we went home on the 29th hoping for labor to begin before the 31st so I would not have to have a repeat c-section. I consulted my doula (birth assistant) about what my midwife had said, the planned repeat c-section, and together we decided that trying some natural inductions would probably be a good thing at this point...and I would just like to say that had Katherine been born alive everyone would probably applaud all of our decisions. So on the 30th I woke up and took some castor oil, and at about 3:00 that afternoon I took a small dose of co-hosh herb that has been known to cause contractions and start labor (which is why it is not recommended for pregnant woman) but seeing that we wanted labor to start we saw it as a good thing to take.
At about 5:30pm I started to experience some mild contractions...I texted my husband at 6 that he should come home and for whatever reason he wasn't able to leave work until 6:30. At this point we were trying to stick to my birth plan which was for me to relax and labor at home for a little bit before going to the hospital. Carl got home around 7:30 and we called a friend to come and pick up our kiddos. By the time the kiddos were out the door it was about 8:30. At which points the contractions were really intense and I was starting to sense that something wasn't going right. We called our doula and I wasn't able to talk and Carl thought that it was just really intense contractions but that I may not really be in actual labor and that it may have just been the stuff that I took. My doula said she was on her way to our house all in all the phone conversation ended at about 9:00pm between 9 and 9:20 for whatever reason I just decided (though I was feeling okay) that I wanted to go to the hospital and to forget the birth plan. My doula arrived and it was about somewhere between 9:30 and 9:45 when I was able to make it to the car and we were able to get on the road to the hospital.
It was in the car that labor really picked and things started to go wrong. I was experiencing the worst pain I had ever felt in my life, and the bumpy road surely wasn't helping. Still Carl and my doula were hoping it was just labor but my instincts were telling me that the contractions and pain that I was feeling just wasn't normal. I began to get scared and sensing that something was deeply wrong I hollered for my husband to pull the car over about 10mins into our trip towards the hospital...we managed to pull into a burger king parking lot where I demanded that an ambulance be called and take me the rest of the way to the hospital. In the time we were waiting for the ambulance I felt something pop and then what I thought was just Katherine moving...and then the contractions just stopped...and then the burning began. It is a burning that I can only describe as someone taking a lighter or a match and setting fire to the insides of my abdominal wall. We didn't know it then but the popping was my uterus splitting open and Katherine moving was her coming out and into the abdominal wall...she was most likely already dead at this point.
It felt like an eternity for the ambulance to arrive and then I got into the ambulance and was on the way to the closest hospital...the whole way there I was screaming for a c-section. I arrived and being a small hospital we had to wait for the on call doctor to get there...the whole entire waiting period was probably only like 10mins but again it felt like an eternity and I remember at one looking into my doula's eyes and thinking that I was a dead and she must be an angel (because she has the prettiest blue eyes I have ever seen) it wasn't until she started talking to me that I realized I wasn't dead yet. I literally had the thought "I don't want her to be the last person I ever see again, where is my husband? I need to tell him I love him."
Apparently, this whole time I was just so immersed in pain that I was tossing and turning and it took several people to hold me down in order to get IV's started and to do the ultrasound that would reveal that Katherine was gone. When the doctor arrived and told us Katherine was dead in that moment I thought "I am going to die then too." I kept hollering for a c-section and believe it or not ultrasounds don't reveal uterine ruptures so at this point everyone was still thinking I was just a panicked laboring woman but I knew, I knew what must have happened, and I knew that if I didn't get to surgery soon I was going to die too. when I finally got rolled back to surgery I just kept asking that they try to bring Katherine back to life. And then I remember saying "It burns, It burns, It burns" and I remember the anesthesiologist stroking my forehead and telling me that he was going to make it stop and then I was out. At some point shortly after being put under I stopped breathing and needed to be resuscitated it was found later that I had gone septic because of all the birth fluid that had slowly been leaking into my system. I lost a lot of blood and would have been given a blood transfusion if it wasn't for the fact that the transfusion itself may had killed me. So basically we had to hope and pray that my body would heal itself.
When I came out it was somewhere after 2:00am and I was told that Katherine was removed from my abdomen at 12:10...she was the first thing I asked about and I was crushed to know that she was still dead. The days that followed were devastating...We had to watch our kiddos be crushed when the little sister they had been hoping and longing for would not get to come home with them. We had to pick out a casket, pick out music, we had to try to get pictures taken, answer questions of what happened, and why did you do this, why didn't you do that, all the while I was healing from a major surgery.
So you see...I didn't just experience a loss I experienced a very real life changing trauma, and if you ask any trauma expert trauma isn't just miraculously recovered from it takes time to heal the wounds that are inflicted on a persons heart when trauma is experienced. I will go into some of those wounds in my next post.
Monday, January 5, 2015
no firsts but there is still hope.
As I enter into yet another month without my sweet Katherine and subsequently a new year without her. I was thinking this...
"There will be no first smiles, no first laughs, or giggles.
There will be no first tears, and no first tooth.
No first bath, no first christmas and no first new year, and no first birthday on earth here for you.
There will be no first words, and no first steps. No first school trip, and no first tests.
There will be no first boyfriends, and no first kisses, no first dances, no first dresses."
Honestly there are probably way too many firsts than I could possibly list. But as I was feeling hopeless and dark thinking about these things I looked up and I was greeted to the sight of 20 red robins all sitting on our tree. "Odd time of year for robins to be appearing" , I decided to look for a greater blessing in this moment than just birds sitting outside my window and I decided to see if robins had any spiritual symbolic meaning. Now I'm not one that thinks every little thing that "happens" in life is a sign from God but I couldn't help but feel the spirit leading me to look this one up....what I found was that robins often symbolize "new beginnings, hope, joy, a future."
As I am sure these robins are probably just migrating to a warmer place for the winter I still can't help but see this as a gentle prodding that someday things are not going to feel this dark, this dreadful, that someday though the hurt will always be here, there will also be healing, there is hope and peace to be found in the midst of the darkness and the chaos.
"There will be no first smiles, no first laughs, or giggles.
There will be no first tears, and no first tooth.
No first bath, no first christmas and no first new year, and no first birthday on earth here for you.
There will be no first words, and no first steps. No first school trip, and no first tests.
There will be no first boyfriends, and no first kisses, no first dances, no first dresses."
Honestly there are probably way too many firsts than I could possibly list. But as I was feeling hopeless and dark thinking about these things I looked up and I was greeted to the sight of 20 red robins all sitting on our tree. "Odd time of year for robins to be appearing" , I decided to look for a greater blessing in this moment than just birds sitting outside my window and I decided to see if robins had any spiritual symbolic meaning. Now I'm not one that thinks every little thing that "happens" in life is a sign from God but I couldn't help but feel the spirit leading me to look this one up....what I found was that robins often symbolize "new beginnings, hope, joy, a future."
As I am sure these robins are probably just migrating to a warmer place for the winter I still can't help but see this as a gentle prodding that someday things are not going to feel this dark, this dreadful, that someday though the hurt will always be here, there will also be healing, there is hope and peace to be found in the midst of the darkness and the chaos.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Why going to church is a battle.
I am finding in my grief journey that going to church is a battle I face every single Sunday. I stopped going to Sunday school completely. I may "blame it on" not waking up in time and while that is the cases some Sundays, truthfully I don't go because I don't want to. I also don't go because often (even when I wake up with plenty of time to spare) it takes every single ounce of strength and energy just to get myself to go to the Sunday morning worship service.
In speaking with other grieving Momma's and others that have life changing hurting circumstances in their lives I have found this to be a common theme. I have begun to ask myself the question of why? Why when we are the most hurting and vulnerable do we hide and shelter ourselves? In their book "Captivating" by John and Stasi Eldridge they go into some of the reasons why, woman particularly, hide our vulnerability. Why our vulnerability is so draining to us, why we feel like we have to first put ourselves "together", make ourselves more "presentable" before we venture out into our worlds while we our hurting. I am not going to go into any more details of the book except that they have some interesting thoughts and reasons for this and I would encourage you to read the book. This said, I want to shine some light on why I, personally, struggle with going to church....here is a small glimpse into my Sunday battle... this is what I wrote my friend...more or less...I've added a few more thoughts to it:
"Church is a whole different level. You feel like you can't just go and "hide" because in our situation everyone knows your story, your pain. You're the one whose baby died. You feel like they are "watching" you. Are you singing? Are you praying? Are you praising the God that "took away?" You feel like either the Pastor's sermon is completely out of touch with where you are or that he sat down all week and wrote your name at the top of his sermon notes. You either feel ignored, or called out but not naming you but everyone "knows" he is talking about you...because they know your story. And while none of these thoughts may have an ounce of truth to them (or maybe they do) it takes all you have to fight them and then by the time you get home, your energy is depleted and you wonder how the hell you are going to get through the rest of the day and the week to come."
And isn't this true to an extent? When you are suffering in private, when no one knows about the job situation, or the arguments you have with your spouse everyday, when no one knows about the depression you battle, or the sin that you can't let go of, when no one knows the intimate details of your inner being and life: A sermon dedicated to "taking heart, being strong, trusting God's goodness," feels encouraging and uplifting, but when you are suffering in a very public way, in a way that you didn't choose to be made known, but it was anyways, because you can't just not be 39weeks and 4 days pregnant and then not have a baby in your arms and no one know why that is? When our lives are the most vulnerable and weak and public those are the times we feel the most "watched" and we begin to want to hide away...because we our limited in the ways we can protect ourselves.
The truth is some of us don't want to go to church because we don't have the strength to fake the smiles, and the "I'm alright"s. We don't have the strength to not let tears fall down our cheeks. We don't have the strength to not be vulnerable in a place that between worship and the preaching that speaks to our hearts, calls us to be vulnerable before our God in ways that we may not be vulnerable during the week. And any place that makes us vulnerable before other sinful people that have a tendency to judge (we all know this exists in every single church so lets not say it doesn't...) is a place that we want to avoid. Because it's too hard, it's too messy, we feel like we are too much and these people are going to run from us even more if they can see how totally messed up our grief in life has made us. So many of us choose to wait it out...We wait for a "good" Sunday to go...A Sunday that maybe has a special missionary speaker that isn't going to require us to do anything else but listen to their day to day life. We wait for a Sunday focused around a special event so that we can easily slip in and out unseen amongst the people. In my case, I try not to go into the church before the official greeting time is over, and I try to leave as quickly as possible. In our vulnerability, we hide and we wait until we think we can pull ourselves together enough so that people will want to be apart of our lives again.
Personally, I'm not a great hider. People can always tell that something is wrong with me...My husband says that even when I put on a "smile" people can tell it's a fake one. They can also tell when I'm extremely happy and pleased in life as well. I'm not a great hider, I'm not a great liar either. So as a result I have had to develop other ways to hide...thus not being present for meet and greet time, and leaving before anyone gets the chance to talk to me, not looking people in the eye ect....I've "adapted"to my surroundings in order to feel like i'm at least surviving. But we all know surviving is not thriving...but that is a topic for another day.
So there you have it...there you have why Sundays are so damn hard for me. Why I wait till the last possible second to come in. Why I look like I don't want to shake your hand at a greet time, Why I leave before you have the chance to offer me a sympathetic smile....Church is a battle field for me. It's hard...it's tough, and it drains me. So then why do I even bother going at all? I've been asking myself that very question and here are a few thoughts on it.
The Holy Spirit doesn't let me not go. Literally, most of the time, if I stay home from church it's not a "relief" it just ends up being a whole different battle. And not because I feel "guilty" for not going or because I"m afraid I'll be judged for not going...no it's because I KNOW that I NEED to go. . But I don't have the strength and where with all most days to dive into the Word. I don't have the strength most days to Praise God and worship him. I don't have the strength most days to be completely focused on God's goodness. Church is the one place where I get fed anything close to "truth" in the midst of the lies that I have to battle about myself on a daily basis. The Holy Spirit doesn't let me not go because he knows that I need to be there. My soul needs to be taken care of and if I can't take care of it myself during the week then I need to be there on Sunday. This isn't to say that I'm going to start going to Sunday school whole heartily again, no. I do have some Sundays when God says 'stay home today' be alone with me today.." and that's okay too.It's also not to say that if you don't go to church then the Holy Spirit just isn't advocating in your heart enough to do it. But I think all of us at times feel the tug and ask ourselves the question "maybe I should go today?" It just means that, for me I would, personally, rather go and face the mental battles, than stay at home and fight the Holy Spirit that is drawing me to God when I want to run away. I run away from God in plenty of otherways, going to church is one act that says to my own heart "Okay...I'm still opened to my God."
I also still go to church in the midst of my own very outward vulnerability because I still long to connect with others. I am still hoping that someone will consider me worth their time and effort to make time for me some other day during the week. I still hold out hope that someone will say "Hey, i know this is a hard time for you. I would love to just take you out for a drink, ice cream, whatever and just get to know you more." I go because I still hold out hope that even in the midst of my crazy grief and the fact that I am likely to cry at any moment that someone will want to embrace this crazy vulnerability of mine.
I still go to church because my heart still desires to praise God even though I have no clue what his plan is for me and I honestly at this particular time am having trouble trusting that God has "good" plans for me.
I still go to church because I have hope that somehow God is going to use me and all my crazy, messed up self, to help someone else. That God will be able to use me and speak to the person that is able to keep their suffering private...that see God is still working, look, watch, have hope, take heart, he is still working in her so surely he must be working in you too.
But the reasons I still go do not make the battle any easier for me, going to church is a battle, at times an exhausting one and I don't go to church those Sundays....but it's still a battle worth having, I think?
In speaking with other grieving Momma's and others that have life changing hurting circumstances in their lives I have found this to be a common theme. I have begun to ask myself the question of why? Why when we are the most hurting and vulnerable do we hide and shelter ourselves? In their book "Captivating" by John and Stasi Eldridge they go into some of the reasons why, woman particularly, hide our vulnerability. Why our vulnerability is so draining to us, why we feel like we have to first put ourselves "together", make ourselves more "presentable" before we venture out into our worlds while we our hurting. I am not going to go into any more details of the book except that they have some interesting thoughts and reasons for this and I would encourage you to read the book. This said, I want to shine some light on why I, personally, struggle with going to church....here is a small glimpse into my Sunday battle... this is what I wrote my friend...more or less...I've added a few more thoughts to it:
"Church is a whole different level. You feel like you can't just go and "hide" because in our situation everyone knows your story, your pain. You're the one whose baby died. You feel like they are "watching" you. Are you singing? Are you praying? Are you praising the God that "took away?" You feel like either the Pastor's sermon is completely out of touch with where you are or that he sat down all week and wrote your name at the top of his sermon notes. You either feel ignored, or called out but not naming you but everyone "knows" he is talking about you...because they know your story. And while none of these thoughts may have an ounce of truth to them (or maybe they do) it takes all you have to fight them and then by the time you get home, your energy is depleted and you wonder how the hell you are going to get through the rest of the day and the week to come."
And isn't this true to an extent? When you are suffering in private, when no one knows about the job situation, or the arguments you have with your spouse everyday, when no one knows about the depression you battle, or the sin that you can't let go of, when no one knows the intimate details of your inner being and life: A sermon dedicated to "taking heart, being strong, trusting God's goodness," feels encouraging and uplifting, but when you are suffering in a very public way, in a way that you didn't choose to be made known, but it was anyways, because you can't just not be 39weeks and 4 days pregnant and then not have a baby in your arms and no one know why that is? When our lives are the most vulnerable and weak and public those are the times we feel the most "watched" and we begin to want to hide away...because we our limited in the ways we can protect ourselves.
The truth is some of us don't want to go to church because we don't have the strength to fake the smiles, and the "I'm alright"s. We don't have the strength to not let tears fall down our cheeks. We don't have the strength to not be vulnerable in a place that between worship and the preaching that speaks to our hearts, calls us to be vulnerable before our God in ways that we may not be vulnerable during the week. And any place that makes us vulnerable before other sinful people that have a tendency to judge (we all know this exists in every single church so lets not say it doesn't...) is a place that we want to avoid. Because it's too hard, it's too messy, we feel like we are too much and these people are going to run from us even more if they can see how totally messed up our grief in life has made us. So many of us choose to wait it out...We wait for a "good" Sunday to go...A Sunday that maybe has a special missionary speaker that isn't going to require us to do anything else but listen to their day to day life. We wait for a Sunday focused around a special event so that we can easily slip in and out unseen amongst the people. In my case, I try not to go into the church before the official greeting time is over, and I try to leave as quickly as possible. In our vulnerability, we hide and we wait until we think we can pull ourselves together enough so that people will want to be apart of our lives again.
Personally, I'm not a great hider. People can always tell that something is wrong with me...My husband says that even when I put on a "smile" people can tell it's a fake one. They can also tell when I'm extremely happy and pleased in life as well. I'm not a great hider, I'm not a great liar either. So as a result I have had to develop other ways to hide...thus not being present for meet and greet time, and leaving before anyone gets the chance to talk to me, not looking people in the eye ect....I've "adapted"to my surroundings in order to feel like i'm at least surviving. But we all know surviving is not thriving...but that is a topic for another day.
So there you have it...there you have why Sundays are so damn hard for me. Why I wait till the last possible second to come in. Why I look like I don't want to shake your hand at a greet time, Why I leave before you have the chance to offer me a sympathetic smile....Church is a battle field for me. It's hard...it's tough, and it drains me. So then why do I even bother going at all? I've been asking myself that very question and here are a few thoughts on it.
The Holy Spirit doesn't let me not go. Literally, most of the time, if I stay home from church it's not a "relief" it just ends up being a whole different battle. And not because I feel "guilty" for not going or because I"m afraid I'll be judged for not going...no it's because I KNOW that I NEED to go. . But I don't have the strength and where with all most days to dive into the Word. I don't have the strength most days to Praise God and worship him. I don't have the strength most days to be completely focused on God's goodness. Church is the one place where I get fed anything close to "truth" in the midst of the lies that I have to battle about myself on a daily basis. The Holy Spirit doesn't let me not go because he knows that I need to be there. My soul needs to be taken care of and if I can't take care of it myself during the week then I need to be there on Sunday. This isn't to say that I'm going to start going to Sunday school whole heartily again, no. I do have some Sundays when God says 'stay home today' be alone with me today.." and that's okay too.It's also not to say that if you don't go to church then the Holy Spirit just isn't advocating in your heart enough to do it. But I think all of us at times feel the tug and ask ourselves the question "maybe I should go today?" It just means that, for me I would, personally, rather go and face the mental battles, than stay at home and fight the Holy Spirit that is drawing me to God when I want to run away. I run away from God in plenty of otherways, going to church is one act that says to my own heart "Okay...I'm still opened to my God."
I also still go to church in the midst of my own very outward vulnerability because I still long to connect with others. I am still hoping that someone will consider me worth their time and effort to make time for me some other day during the week. I still hold out hope that someone will say "Hey, i know this is a hard time for you. I would love to just take you out for a drink, ice cream, whatever and just get to know you more." I go because I still hold out hope that even in the midst of my crazy grief and the fact that I am likely to cry at any moment that someone will want to embrace this crazy vulnerability of mine.
I still go to church because my heart still desires to praise God even though I have no clue what his plan is for me and I honestly at this particular time am having trouble trusting that God has "good" plans for me.
I still go to church because I have hope that somehow God is going to use me and all my crazy, messed up self, to help someone else. That God will be able to use me and speak to the person that is able to keep their suffering private...that see God is still working, look, watch, have hope, take heart, he is still working in her so surely he must be working in you too.
But the reasons I still go do not make the battle any easier for me, going to church is a battle, at times an exhausting one and I don't go to church those Sundays....but it's still a battle worth having, I think?
Friday, December 5, 2014
a mixture of thoughts
Maybe it's the gloomy whether and no sunshine? Maybe it's the fact that even when I'm not working I can't fall asleep until 3 or 4 in the morning still? Maybe it's because our house is cold even when the heat is turned up? Or Maybe it's because instead of holding a baby to sleep I hold a 10lb 7oz teddy bear? Maybe it's PPD hitting me later (and yes just because I lost my baby doesn't mean I am immune to PPD now)? Maybe it is all of these things?
I can't quite put my finger on it but I think I am hitting a rut of depression myself. My body is achy, I am tired all of the time and I just don't feel like doing anything, even good things. I force myself to go to work but I am coming to the point where even that is getting hard to do. Phantom kicks come during all times of day, my lower abdomen is constantly sore, aching, remembering the pain of the night we lost our Katherine. I hate that about 5miles away there is a mark-less grave where my baby's body is probably well decomposed by now. I hate that books help me feel better but only for a little bit of time, I hate that this is a burden that I am going to have to carry with me for the rest of my life.
What does one do? How does one constantly take the hurt and have it meet the healing? How does one heal? Can I? Will these feelings of inadequacy, doubt, confusion, emptiness, restlessness ever go away? Will I ever make any close friends, right here, where I live? So many questions and no real set answer.
I know that my future hope is in Christ but how does one put hope in Christ in the here and now? How does one live with that future hope always in the front of their mind? How does one fight the constant battle to live for Christ while struggling through grief and depression?
I told Carl the other day that I don't talk to people much because I no longer feel like I have anything significant or important to say. Before Katherine died I could talk about her, the pregnancy what we were looking forward to, the awful birth plan, and now what do I have to talk about? Where is my voice now? I have a voice of hardship and depression and while it isn't always like this there are more days where I feel this way than there are days where I don't. I feel like I've hit an early empty nest syndrome. My older kiddos will be off to school this next year what will I do with myself other than "clean." If I am going to return to work full time, well I certainly don't want to spend the next 10-30yrs of my life working for Wendy's ....lol. I feel like I have to find a whole new me. I have no idea who she looks like. Who this person that has lost a deep part of them really is anymore...and it sucks....because I had finally just found and was comfortable with the old me. Maybe that's my problem maybe I grew too comfortable.
I don't know what God's plan is in allowing Katherine to die. I see how he is working and growing and changing my husband for the better and developing his story. But mine? I fear that this experience has done the exact opposite to me.
I used to not be afraid of adventure, I actually sought it. I used to have hope and optimism about what God would do with our future. I used to dream about the future. Now I just have a lot of fear. Fear of even trying to have more children whether biologically or through adoption. Fear of ever leaving this small central Indiana town because our daughter is buried just 5miles away and what kind of parent just abandons their baby? Fear that, worse yet, this fear won't go away and I will succumb to it and not allow myself to venture out again. Fear that God isn't going to use me because I am less of a faithful follower now than I was before this happened. Fear that He won't change me because I won't want to listen enough in order to change. Fear that I will try to rush this stage of grief and never really deal with it and it will come back to haunt me later. So much fear... and how does one apply 2 Timothy 1:7
"....7 for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control."
because I know that this fear that I feel does not come from God but I also don't know what transforming that fear into love and self control looks like. I know what it has looked like for other grieving Momma's but I am unsure of what it will look like for me. The little bit that I picture it to look like but then again comes in the fear that it won't ever happen so why set myself up for more heartache?
A few weeks back our grief therapist reminded us of the story of Peter. Of how Peter was so zealous for Christ and how at times Christ had to rebuke him. Our therapist reminded us of how Peter betrayed Jesus and after his death "gave up," he went right back to where he had started when Jesus met him "fishing" because, probably, Peter didn't know what else to do next. Peter hit rock bottom, and who still showed up after this...Jesus. Jesus still came and found Peter even after Peter had betrayed him. Restored his relationship (the relationship that Peter broke) with Peter and then mightly used Peter to build HIS church.
Truth be told I had forgotten Peter's story. I relate to Peter the most probably out of all the disciples. Proud, arogant, zealous, and also fearful and runs at the first big sign of trouble. What hope I gain from remembering Peter's story is that JESUS still came and found Peter again, JESUS restores Peter AGAIN, JESUS uses Peter AGAIN. Peter's story gives me hope that God will use me despite my own fear issues.
3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 4 to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, 5 who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. 6 In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, 7 so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. 8 Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, 9 obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.
These verses are verses that I have often applied to other trials of my life. I haven't wanted to apply these verses to my current trial because I don't want God to use something so big, so life changing, and so heartbreaking to refine my faith....but atlas HE IS. I don't like it, I certainly don't know if I can say that I am "rejoicing" in it but I am taking a deep breath and soaking it all in. Because even in this suck-fest (as another blogger momma would say) of a trial that I am in I know that somewhere there is peace in the midst of the chaos and good in the midst of the pain....it's just really hard to see some days.
I can't quite put my finger on it but I think I am hitting a rut of depression myself. My body is achy, I am tired all of the time and I just don't feel like doing anything, even good things. I force myself to go to work but I am coming to the point where even that is getting hard to do. Phantom kicks come during all times of day, my lower abdomen is constantly sore, aching, remembering the pain of the night we lost our Katherine. I hate that about 5miles away there is a mark-less grave where my baby's body is probably well decomposed by now. I hate that books help me feel better but only for a little bit of time, I hate that this is a burden that I am going to have to carry with me for the rest of my life.
What does one do? How does one constantly take the hurt and have it meet the healing? How does one heal? Can I? Will these feelings of inadequacy, doubt, confusion, emptiness, restlessness ever go away? Will I ever make any close friends, right here, where I live? So many questions and no real set answer.
I know that my future hope is in Christ but how does one put hope in Christ in the here and now? How does one live with that future hope always in the front of their mind? How does one fight the constant battle to live for Christ while struggling through grief and depression?
I told Carl the other day that I don't talk to people much because I no longer feel like I have anything significant or important to say. Before Katherine died I could talk about her, the pregnancy what we were looking forward to, the awful birth plan, and now what do I have to talk about? Where is my voice now? I have a voice of hardship and depression and while it isn't always like this there are more days where I feel this way than there are days where I don't. I feel like I've hit an early empty nest syndrome. My older kiddos will be off to school this next year what will I do with myself other than "clean." If I am going to return to work full time, well I certainly don't want to spend the next 10-30yrs of my life working for Wendy's ....lol. I feel like I have to find a whole new me. I have no idea who she looks like. Who this person that has lost a deep part of them really is anymore...and it sucks....because I had finally just found and was comfortable with the old me. Maybe that's my problem maybe I grew too comfortable.
I don't know what God's plan is in allowing Katherine to die. I see how he is working and growing and changing my husband for the better and developing his story. But mine? I fear that this experience has done the exact opposite to me.
I used to not be afraid of adventure, I actually sought it. I used to have hope and optimism about what God would do with our future. I used to dream about the future. Now I just have a lot of fear. Fear of even trying to have more children whether biologically or through adoption. Fear of ever leaving this small central Indiana town because our daughter is buried just 5miles away and what kind of parent just abandons their baby? Fear that, worse yet, this fear won't go away and I will succumb to it and not allow myself to venture out again. Fear that God isn't going to use me because I am less of a faithful follower now than I was before this happened. Fear that He won't change me because I won't want to listen enough in order to change. Fear that I will try to rush this stage of grief and never really deal with it and it will come back to haunt me later. So much fear... and how does one apply 2 Timothy 1:7
"....7 for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control."
because I know that this fear that I feel does not come from God but I also don't know what transforming that fear into love and self control looks like. I know what it has looked like for other grieving Momma's but I am unsure of what it will look like for me. The little bit that I picture it to look like but then again comes in the fear that it won't ever happen so why set myself up for more heartache?
A few weeks back our grief therapist reminded us of the story of Peter. Of how Peter was so zealous for Christ and how at times Christ had to rebuke him. Our therapist reminded us of how Peter betrayed Jesus and after his death "gave up," he went right back to where he had started when Jesus met him "fishing" because, probably, Peter didn't know what else to do next. Peter hit rock bottom, and who still showed up after this...Jesus. Jesus still came and found Peter even after Peter had betrayed him. Restored his relationship (the relationship that Peter broke) with Peter and then mightly used Peter to build HIS church.
Truth be told I had forgotten Peter's story. I relate to Peter the most probably out of all the disciples. Proud, arogant, zealous, and also fearful and runs at the first big sign of trouble. What hope I gain from remembering Peter's story is that JESUS still came and found Peter again, JESUS restores Peter AGAIN, JESUS uses Peter AGAIN. Peter's story gives me hope that God will use me despite my own fear issues.
3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 4 to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, 5 who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. 6 In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, 7 so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. 8 Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, 9 obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.
These verses are verses that I have often applied to other trials of my life. I haven't wanted to apply these verses to my current trial because I don't want God to use something so big, so life changing, and so heartbreaking to refine my faith....but atlas HE IS. I don't like it, I certainly don't know if I can say that I am "rejoicing" in it but I am taking a deep breath and soaking it all in. Because even in this suck-fest (as another blogger momma would say) of a trial that I am in I know that somewhere there is peace in the midst of the chaos and good in the midst of the pain....it's just really hard to see some days.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
It's the not so most wonderful time of the year.
So far this holiday season has been very painful. I have been surprised at how the ache of my sweet Katherine being gone has often consumed me. We have a tree up and decorated, we have presents wrapped, and stockings hung, and while all of these things have aided in making the holiday season a little more joy filled none of these things have taken away the pain and longing that I have for my Katherine.
What is it about the holidays that are supposed to be the "most wonderful time of the year" that make it not so much to those of us that have lost dear loved ones? I am told over and over again that one day I will enjoy the holidays again but it almost seems impossible because its hard to imagine that I'll enjoy anything again without my Katherine being present.
Don't completely misunderstand me...I did just tell a friend the other day that there are "glimpses" and "moments" of joy, hope, and peace and when they come we do our best to soak every inch of them in and we pray that it will be enough to get us through until we get to see the next glimpse. At this stage though it is never constant, it's only bits and pieces, all of which we our very thankful for but we long for the day when the constant will set in and take root and take place. As our therapist tells us, our lives are now in a place where the hurt is constantly needing to meet the healing. Where our hope in Christ co-exists with the empty longing and devastation we feel over Katherine. It is a confusing place to live in wondering which part is going to rule in your heart on any given moment of the day.
Lately, I haven't been able to sleep without at least one of our kids in our room. I check in on them ever night just to make sure they are breathing. A little over a year ago we had a "scare" with Zach almost drowning at a swimming lesson of all things. I remember in those moments of running to quickly try to get him out of the water fearing that he would die before I could get to him. I remember my heart racing, feeling like it would beat out of my chest and when I threw open that side door I thought for sure I was going to have to pull my sons lifeless body out of the water....but what I was greeted with instead was the life guard had "FINALLY" seen him and got him out. There my little boy was breathing, coughing up the water, and looking at me telling me that he was "okay." I told my husband that I remember hoping that I would never have to feel that same fear, desperation, and hopelessness again. But no, instead of getting to not feel those things again I got it 100x worse...I got to live it with Katherine. There is no comparison between the two, one is just merely a "feeling" a fear of what could have been...the other is a "feeling" of what is and living reality. Trust me when I say that the two do not compare. How could they really?
Everyday I try to fight to keep some type of "wonderful" into this season. I fight for it myself and for my other living children, and for my husband.......but the reality is that in the midst of the joy and wonder is this incredibly deep unspoken pain and longing that often feels so confused as to what to do with it all.
So, while I may wish you all a Happy Holiday's and a Merry Christmas I really do mean it but for me this year it is not going to be the most wonderful time of the year. What it will be is another battle to get through and another struggle and moments of joy, peace, and hope. It will be a season where we find ourselves longing for Jesus the most, praying for comfort and healing the hardest, and asking others to try to be sensitive when we aren't feeling up to being "merry and bright."
And here are two pictures that convey the confusing season of life we are in.
What is it about the holidays that are supposed to be the "most wonderful time of the year" that make it not so much to those of us that have lost dear loved ones? I am told over and over again that one day I will enjoy the holidays again but it almost seems impossible because its hard to imagine that I'll enjoy anything again without my Katherine being present.
Don't completely misunderstand me...I did just tell a friend the other day that there are "glimpses" and "moments" of joy, hope, and peace and when they come we do our best to soak every inch of them in and we pray that it will be enough to get us through until we get to see the next glimpse. At this stage though it is never constant, it's only bits and pieces, all of which we our very thankful for but we long for the day when the constant will set in and take root and take place. As our therapist tells us, our lives are now in a place where the hurt is constantly needing to meet the healing. Where our hope in Christ co-exists with the empty longing and devastation we feel over Katherine. It is a confusing place to live in wondering which part is going to rule in your heart on any given moment of the day.
Lately, I haven't been able to sleep without at least one of our kids in our room. I check in on them ever night just to make sure they are breathing. A little over a year ago we had a "scare" with Zach almost drowning at a swimming lesson of all things. I remember in those moments of running to quickly try to get him out of the water fearing that he would die before I could get to him. I remember my heart racing, feeling like it would beat out of my chest and when I threw open that side door I thought for sure I was going to have to pull my sons lifeless body out of the water....but what I was greeted with instead was the life guard had "FINALLY" seen him and got him out. There my little boy was breathing, coughing up the water, and looking at me telling me that he was "okay." I told my husband that I remember hoping that I would never have to feel that same fear, desperation, and hopelessness again. But no, instead of getting to not feel those things again I got it 100x worse...I got to live it with Katherine. There is no comparison between the two, one is just merely a "feeling" a fear of what could have been...the other is a "feeling" of what is and living reality. Trust me when I say that the two do not compare. How could they really?
Everyday I try to fight to keep some type of "wonderful" into this season. I fight for it myself and for my other living children, and for my husband.......but the reality is that in the midst of the joy and wonder is this incredibly deep unspoken pain and longing that often feels so confused as to what to do with it all.
So, while I may wish you all a Happy Holiday's and a Merry Christmas I really do mean it but for me this year it is not going to be the most wonderful time of the year. What it will be is another battle to get through and another struggle and moments of joy, peace, and hope. It will be a season where we find ourselves longing for Jesus the most, praying for comfort and healing the hardest, and asking others to try to be sensitive when we aren't feeling up to being "merry and bright."
And here are two pictures that convey the confusing season of life we are in.
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