One week.

It's been one week of unimaginable loss. Jesus hates death. He calls it the enemy. Jesus hates that I buried my son. Jesus hates that this is sad. It's been one week since I held my baby. It's been one week since I met my boy and said goodbye in the same day. The missing only grows and my longing for heaven only deepens by the moment. I can't wait to be with him again.

Yesterday I woke up and checked my email and in it was the weekly Baby Center email telling you all the things you can expect and all the growth milestones your baby has met at 22 weeks. It stung. Its a moment that throws you off, you never know when it's going to come, and nothing can prepare you. Now I need to go unsubscribe. 

It happened a lot yesterday, the email wasn't the only moment when I missed my boy and cried. I was online shopping for the girls and my eyes came across a romper that would have been so perfect to put him in, even though he already had a closet full of clothes to wear. My mail days now bring grief cards and flowers instead of packages for my little boy. Sadly, on some mail days, some of those long awaited packages are still arriving
. At the dinner table my mind wandered and it occurred to me, there will always be a little boy missing from our table. His chatter won't compete with his talkative sisters, his laugh is something I will never know, I won't ever remind him, for the tenth time, to finish his dinner. My milk is fighting to come in and I have no baby to feed. More tears. I look through pictures on my phone and find one of his sweet face and those perfect little lips and I think about how much I just want to have one minute to hold him again, but we already said goodbye. More and more tears.This is my grief and these are my sorrows. These are good things to grieve and I try to tell myself to let it come, that grief, in its own way is a gift, and it helps to feel these losses.

Grief makes you slow, scatterbrained, and rocks your body on every level. I needed to take a shower. I wanted to take a shower, but I sat in the chair in our bedroom and stared at the bathroom door for a good 30 minutes. Even something simple, feels like it takes all of me. Even things I enjoy and want to do take so much effort. I love food but can't eat. I love sleep, but can't sleep. The list goes on.

I cry often, and most of the time I don't want to talk about why and a lot of times if I do want to talk, I feel like I am saying the same things over and over and over again. I try to tell myself that it takes time, but right now I want to punch the person who came up with the saying "time heals all wounds" because to me that makes no sense. I want another baby so much, but I want it to be Bobby.

I listened to an audio message from Josh Harris; he was preaching on the topic of death and suffering and how Christians walk through those things, he said:

"We all need examples of what real Christian life looks like. We need to see that God meets people who are weak and have nothing left. God meets people who feel like all their faith is gone. In other words, he meets people like us in the real world."

What he said is the truth. I would be lying if I said I had it together all the time. Even if I speak truth in a way that sounds eloquent and "together" it doesn't mean I always believe those things and have it together in every moment. It's not possible and my life doesn't look perfect, it never will. My heart isn't always rejoicing in all things, I am not always trusting God, I don't often feel his nearness, and thats just the reality of the process. I'm human. If you're one of my closest friends, you might get a text from me telling you how shitty it feels to miss your baby so bad. I'm a fallen creature in desperate need of reminders. I have low moments and the reality is this is a very deep valley. I need to remember that Jesus weeps with me, that our loss is his, and he knows our pain and cares. That he meets me exactly where I am at. When I falter that doesn't mean I love Jesus less, it just means I need Jesus more. I can embrace and share my weakness because it is Jesus who is strong for me (2 Cor. 12:9). I can't and wouldn't want to walk through the valley of the shadow of death without Him.

Psalm 18:9 "He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me."

Psalm 103: 1-5 "Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit,who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s."

1 comment:

kerrin said...

Feel the hate that Jesus did for death. Make that hatred your own. Sure, healing can come in time (more like forgetting and/or repressing), but the catharsis that comes from expressing indignation toward death is a better path to healing, in my opinion.

So sorry of your loss. Continue to write and express through it all... another path for catharsis.

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