All tagged Grief

If That's Where I Am

I was confused when my friend handed me the cupcakes.

“These are for you,” she said, “for tomorrow.”

Um…tomorrow…tomorrow…what did I forget to put down on my calendar for tomorrow that requires cupcakes? I thought Levi’s baby shower was in two days?

“For Aliza’s birthday,” she said

Your Child's Life Mattered {what society is too confused to say}

But what I do know, and what I want you to hear from this small platform today, what I want to say during this month of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness in this society of mixed messages to all those who have lost a baby is exactly what our society is too confused to say:

Your child’s life mattered. No matter how long or short your child lived, your child’s life mattered.

I have had so many tell me, “I was heartbroken when we miscarried at 6 weeks {8 weeks, 13 weeks, etc.} But I can’t imagine losing a baby at 33 weeks like you.”

But sweet sisters and brothers, your child’s life mattered. No matter how long or short your child lived, your child’s life mattered. More weeks of pregnancy does not change that.

You loved your child. You were excited for your child. You were dreaming about your child. Even in the short time your child was with you, your child’s life mattered. Your child, and so heartbreakingly the loss of your child, has forever changed your life. 

Your child’s life mattered.

What We Didn’t Say “Yes” To

We didn’t think we were saying “Yes” to those things. 

To sorrow. To pain. To those times where we grieve differently. Process differently. Have to give each other space to do handle things differently.

But the important thing in marriage is that no matter what, you choose to say “Yes” to each other. Each and every sunny morning. Each and every long, dark night.

In light of everything we go through as a couple, saying "Yes" to each other. No matter the heartache.

Does He Even Care?

And it was in between the hot tears of frustration and sadness, and my body’s convulsing sobs that I actually let my mind utter the question up towards Heaven: 

Do you even care, Lord? Are you seeing this down here? Do you even care about what’s going on right now? Lord, I know you are carrying us through the bad stuff. But right now I’m not sure if You mean it when You say You like to give Your children “good gifts” too.

My Jeans Don't Fit Anymore

But Change. It's not always easy to swallow. Not as easy as a bite of triple chocolate cheesecake, that is.

I have tried to come up with some sort of concrete conclusion as I write this. But I'm starting to agree with Husband when he tells me that not everything we read, write, or watch has to have perfectly textbook endings. 

Because that’s the thing about Change too. It's not always neatly tied up with a pretty bow around it. It's not always tidy.

Change can be exciting and adventurous. 

But sometimes it’s also tangled and messy. Sometimes it hurts like hell. Sometimes it just feels melancholy.

To Our Angels Dressed Up in Scrubs

My first thought when I learn you are a doctor or a nurse is always: How do you do it?

One time I watched my sister give birth and nearly passed out. Another time my first grader handed me a bloody tooth she just lost and it nearly set off my gag reflex. And another time I smelled my own kid’s throw-up and almost ran out of the room, sat down in the corner, and started singing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.”

I have always appreciated you. But I didn’t realize until my own time spent as a patient in and out of doctors’ offices and hospitals that actually, I love you.

In the Deep End {Of Grief}

Because this whole grief thing is deep.

Deep, like getting pushed into the deep end of a pool when you don’t know how to swim. Like thrashing around in the water not knowing which way is up. Like feeling afraid that some days you just might drown in it.

But it has been helpful to hear from others who have been there. Others who have experienced their own deep ends of grief.

Others who are willing to jump in right next to you. Willing to swim with you through it to the other side. To rub your back as you cough and spittle the mouthful you just took in. To wait as you struggle to catch your breath.

Willing to shed their own tears when you finally break down and cry.

So I want to share a few things that have helped me in the deep end of my own grief since losing our daughter. I pray these words will be an encouraging reminder to anyone in the deep end of their grief, and to those swimming through it with them:

You Have No Idea

And I wonder how many other people I walked by that day, and the many days since then, who are going through things I have no idea about.

Who else is suffering silently as they wade through life in a sea of unsuspecting people? People who have no idea what they are going through?

I know how invisible I feel walking through the grocery store, waiting in line at the bank, talking to a complete stranger at the park.

I can’t be the only one. I KNOW I’m not the only one.

We Both Lost Our Unborn Child {But It's Different}

Some have tried to say that losing our child must be worse for me, because I am the mom. But that is not true. My pain is not worse. It’s just different.

To every father who has lost a{n unborn} child: your grief is important too. It might be different. It might not be processed or expressed the same as your wife's grief. But your thoughts, your feelings, your timing - they are all valid. They are important too.