Last week I kind of hit a low point. I started feeling a bit depressed and hopeless about the future. I wanted my heart to believe what my head knows- which is that God is good...all the time- but my heart was refusing to believe it, for whatever reason.
I began looking back at some promises. Promises that I know to be true for me. I know this because it resonates with every fiber of my being- yet they are things that I have not seen come to pass yet. These pomises have kept me going in times of drought or flood. I could hear the accuser making his case, and he made a strong one: "See...look at all God's let you go through. Would a kind and loving father do that? Would he? Doesn't he know you've been through too much? It's all just been too much. " I could hear it- but before I realized it, I began to partner with it. I began to believe the lie "you know, you're right. It has been too much! This is too much! What kind of Father allows his daughter to go through hell and then keeps giving her more? God- these promises should be mine by now!" and this continued until I was covered in a thick blanket of hopelessness. I then began to take on the responsibility of making those promises come to pass- have I done something wrong? Did I miss a turn somewhere? What could I do to convince God to bring these promises to pass sooner? And on top of that hopelessness was laid another thick and heavy blanket of false responsibility. I couldn't even pray- my mind was filled with fears of the future like never before.
I went to a friends house so our kids could play together while we just chatted about life and nothing in particular, and as I got ready to go, she said "hey, I wanna pray for you." So, of course I wasn't going to deny that! Boom...immediately the weight was lifted. I realized that I had partnered with the accuser and judged the goodness of God- she didn't say this, or insinuate- I just knew that I had. I don't honestly even remember what she prayed, but there was an immediate and permanent shift in my heart and outlook. I was suddenly able to embrace the truth with my whole heart that God has never failed me. He entrusted me to my parents who, for numerous reasons, left me with wounds and scars- but that was never his intent. People fail me. My body fails me- but he never has.
I want to be clear about something- there is NOTHING wrong with having an open and honest conversation with God about how you feel (read Job if you need some reassurance! Job lamented... God put him in his place but it was the relationship God was after and he loved Job for being honest before him.) It's perfectly ok, normal and even good to be angry, to be sad, and disappointed. There have been many, many times in my own life when self pity was the only way I could truly open the door to grief- simply because I wasn't often allowed the expression of deep emotions, so in order to truly "feel" my feelings, I had to go there. I don't stay there though. What I'm talking about is the enemy. He made a great case for God being an awful, unfaithful liar- and I believed him for a bit. It was easier than accepting the harsh reality of the circumstances and knowing there is no way around- just through. I didn't want to be brave. I didn't want to fight anymore. I was tired. I didn't want to have to walk through the fire anymore. My current circumstances were coming in direct conflict with the promises God made and I had a choice to make. I couldn't make that choice without some help, though, because there was something MISSING from my relationship with God. You see- from a very early age, I learned to be responsible for myself. I was child and parent in a lot of situations that should never have been. I provided for myself a way out, I protected myself. I made things happen so that I wouldn't experience pain... God knows this. He knew that I needed a revelation of Him as FATHER. Papa. As someone who was fully capable of taking care of what belonged to him- and wouldn't burden me with something that was no longer mine to carry. He knew that I needed to know this part of his character, otherwise I could make no further progress, and I would always be fearful of crumbling underneath harsh circumstances. But- when your Father is big and strong and loving? There is no room for fear
At the same time all of the above was happening, there had been placed on me a burden of false responsibility in regards to my mother, siblings and grandmother. All the SHOULDS and things I did wrong in their eyes came flooding forward. I noticed a distinct shift after my last conversation with my grandmother and that thought "it's all just been too much" was suddenly on repeat. I couldn't seem to get out from underneath it.
After my friend prayed, I had an immediate understanding that I had been carrying around this responsibility that had been placed on me through guilt and shame. I had internalized all the guilt, shame, condemnation and judgement that had been thrown at me by my family- all the things a "loving" daughter should and shouldn't do. Not only that, but I kept myself from experiencing the good and healthy relationships he has surrounded me with to HEAL me because I felt I didn't deserve it. Well- after that prayer- that thinking was gone. I had an understanding that I was HIS child, and that those things that had been placed on me by others were things I was no longer to partner with. Whow. It blows my mind!
Not only that- but I was able to internalize his kindness and compassion over the loss of my babies. There came a deeper understanding of the will of God- and this was not his will. Death, disease, etc- those were never in His will for us. Instead, I ask Him "Who do you want to be for me RIGHT NOW?" and the peace comes. The comfort comes. I can be disappointed and angry and sad with Him. I can feel my feelings, the sting of pain that comes unexpectedly- and he cares. He loves me. He is not indifferent to our suffering.
So, my prayer for anyone reading this is that you would have an experiential understanding of who God is for you right now. That we would sink our roots down deep into the love of God in such a way, that we would know that NO MATTER WHAT COMES- we are anchored in the One who loves us.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Joseph and His Coat
I'm going to share something I should have written about 6 months ago but somehow slipped from my mind until recently.
I've always loved the story of Joseph. I think perhaps I relate to his life in many ways, being abandoned, thrown into a pit and sold by his brothers who were jealous of his "place" in his family, to being thrown into a number of other hypothetical and literal "pits" for various reasons before finally being promoted to king. This will all make sense at the end : )
I'm going to paraphrase Genesis 37 because it's chock full of details that are important, but I kind of want to nutshell it- please read the whole chapter to get the full story : )
Israel was Joseph's father. Joseph was the youngest of many brothers, and it says that Israel loved Joseph more than the other brothers because he was born to Israel in his old age, and out of that love, Israel made Joseph an "ornate" robe for him. It seems kind of mean that Israel loved Joseph more- but there is cultural significance to this and it wasn't entirely uncommon. Children born at a parent's old age was considered a blessing from God because it didn't happen often. Having many children was an indication of being blessed and meant the continuation of a family heritage.
The word then goes on to say that Josephs brothers grew to hate him because their father showed him special favor.
This is where I want to pause and point out the significance (I believe) of the robe. The robe symbolized Joseph's place in the family. It was his identity in a way- and it was displayed for all his brothers to see. He was the youngest and so therefore didn't have the same birthright that a first born would have, yet, he was obviously favored by his father.
Joseph was a "seer". He had dreams from a young age of his brother's and parents bowing down before him. Now, I'm not entirely sure why he decided to share that with his brothers- but at that point, they became jealous and were filled with hatred. It says that while his father rebuked him for the dream, Israel kept the matter in mind- meaning that he pondered it and didn't throw it out. t was at that point that Joseph's brothers began to plot ways to get rid of Joseph.
His brothers had devised a way to kill Joseph making it look like an animal had eaten him, but one of Joseph's brothers- Reuban, obviously torn- convinced them NOT to kill Joseph, but to throw him into a cistern, and then planned to come rescue Joseph later while the other brothers were gone.
Now, I've heard and read this story a hundred or more times. But on a particular day months ago, this verse stood out to me: "So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe—the ornate robe he was wearing— 24 and they took him and threw him into the cistern. The cistern was empty; there was no water in it."
They stripped him of his robe- his identity within the family line that symbolized his father's favor and love that they were highly jealous of. Whoa.
They attempted to kill him, but thought better of it and decided to sell him into slavery instead, where he spent some time in prison. He was eventually promoted from prison and became the King's right hand man. He became highly favored, and indeed, his brothers came back and did bow before him- as he had dreamed so many years before.
The part that I identified with is the stripping of the robe. I can't really articulate how painful of a process that is. And the process of reestablishing your identity once it's been stripped at is equally as painful. I was raised in a family system that placed a high value on conformity- I had to play my part for my own survival, but on my own, I had no REAL value. My identity and value was solely for the function of the system as a whole (which to this day is a very warped and toxic system). Once I stopped meeting the needs of the whole- I was thrown out. This became clear to me as I began to heal and God began to give me pictures and ideas of who I was to him- my value as a person, a daughter to Him. As I began to wear that "robe" or identity, so to speak, there was definite opposition to that identity because it no longer met the needs of the toxic family system.
In many ways, I was stripped of my identity at a young age. The gifts and the heart that God had made with such care (Psalm 139- this is true for EVERYONE- not just me), were chipped away, little by little until only fragments remained. He desired to bestow upon me this beautiful robe- which I believe we now see referred to in Isaiah 61:10 "For He has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of His righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest..." The righteousness that Jesus purchased for us on the cross IS our identity- we now stand before God the father as a much loved child- in a beautiful robe that signifies our placement and our value to him. That's signed, sealed and delivered- but the process of RESTORING that identity, and establishing it so it becomes a healthy and functioning core can take quite some time. We need to colabor with Jesus in the process.
I was blown away by the symbolism in this but also how it corresponds to what Jesus has done- He has already made a provision for our identity on the cross. It's a sealed deal. People may try to steal that, they may try to rip off that garment, slander it, destroy it (for numerous reasons- but jealousy and hatred are two of the main attitudes you will see), but it's a sealed deal. And God is protective of that robe. It is highly valuable to him, and it ought to be highly valuable to us too- we need to cooperate with him in protecting that identity.
My prayer for anyone reading this is that the Holy Spirit would begin to minister to those places where your identity has been stripped away- by life, by the world, by people- and that he would begin to take you on a journey of restoring those places to wholeness and complete healing.
Be blessed this week!
I've always loved the story of Joseph. I think perhaps I relate to his life in many ways, being abandoned, thrown into a pit and sold by his brothers who were jealous of his "place" in his family, to being thrown into a number of other hypothetical and literal "pits" for various reasons before finally being promoted to king. This will all make sense at the end : )
I'm going to paraphrase Genesis 37 because it's chock full of details that are important, but I kind of want to nutshell it- please read the whole chapter to get the full story : )
Israel was Joseph's father. Joseph was the youngest of many brothers, and it says that Israel loved Joseph more than the other brothers because he was born to Israel in his old age, and out of that love, Israel made Joseph an "ornate" robe for him. It seems kind of mean that Israel loved Joseph more- but there is cultural significance to this and it wasn't entirely uncommon. Children born at a parent's old age was considered a blessing from God because it didn't happen often. Having many children was an indication of being blessed and meant the continuation of a family heritage.
The word then goes on to say that Josephs brothers grew to hate him because their father showed him special favor.
This is where I want to pause and point out the significance (I believe) of the robe. The robe symbolized Joseph's place in the family. It was his identity in a way- and it was displayed for all his brothers to see. He was the youngest and so therefore didn't have the same birthright that a first born would have, yet, he was obviously favored by his father.
Joseph was a "seer". He had dreams from a young age of his brother's and parents bowing down before him. Now, I'm not entirely sure why he decided to share that with his brothers- but at that point, they became jealous and were filled with hatred. It says that while his father rebuked him for the dream, Israel kept the matter in mind- meaning that he pondered it and didn't throw it out. t was at that point that Joseph's brothers began to plot ways to get rid of Joseph.
His brothers had devised a way to kill Joseph making it look like an animal had eaten him, but one of Joseph's brothers- Reuban, obviously torn- convinced them NOT to kill Joseph, but to throw him into a cistern, and then planned to come rescue Joseph later while the other brothers were gone.
Now, I've heard and read this story a hundred or more times. But on a particular day months ago, this verse stood out to me: "So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe—the ornate robe he was wearing— 24 and they took him and threw him into the cistern. The cistern was empty; there was no water in it."
They stripped him of his robe- his identity within the family line that symbolized his father's favor and love that they were highly jealous of. Whoa.
They attempted to kill him, but thought better of it and decided to sell him into slavery instead, where he spent some time in prison. He was eventually promoted from prison and became the King's right hand man. He became highly favored, and indeed, his brothers came back and did bow before him- as he had dreamed so many years before.
The part that I identified with is the stripping of the robe. I can't really articulate how painful of a process that is. And the process of reestablishing your identity once it's been stripped at is equally as painful. I was raised in a family system that placed a high value on conformity- I had to play my part for my own survival, but on my own, I had no REAL value. My identity and value was solely for the function of the system as a whole (which to this day is a very warped and toxic system). Once I stopped meeting the needs of the whole- I was thrown out. This became clear to me as I began to heal and God began to give me pictures and ideas of who I was to him- my value as a person, a daughter to Him. As I began to wear that "robe" or identity, so to speak, there was definite opposition to that identity because it no longer met the needs of the toxic family system.
In many ways, I was stripped of my identity at a young age. The gifts and the heart that God had made with such care (Psalm 139- this is true for EVERYONE- not just me), were chipped away, little by little until only fragments remained. He desired to bestow upon me this beautiful robe- which I believe we now see referred to in Isaiah 61:10 "For He has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of His righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest..." The righteousness that Jesus purchased for us on the cross IS our identity- we now stand before God the father as a much loved child- in a beautiful robe that signifies our placement and our value to him. That's signed, sealed and delivered- but the process of RESTORING that identity, and establishing it so it becomes a healthy and functioning core can take quite some time. We need to colabor with Jesus in the process.
I was blown away by the symbolism in this but also how it corresponds to what Jesus has done- He has already made a provision for our identity on the cross. It's a sealed deal. People may try to steal that, they may try to rip off that garment, slander it, destroy it (for numerous reasons- but jealousy and hatred are two of the main attitudes you will see), but it's a sealed deal. And God is protective of that robe. It is highly valuable to him, and it ought to be highly valuable to us too- we need to cooperate with him in protecting that identity.
My prayer for anyone reading this is that the Holy Spirit would begin to minister to those places where your identity has been stripped away- by life, by the world, by people- and that he would begin to take you on a journey of restoring those places to wholeness and complete healing.
Be blessed this week!
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Mother's Day and my crazy family of origin
Mother's day brings a mixed bag of emotions for me. For those those who haven't been following me for long, I am currently not in relationship with my mother. I went no contact about a year ago, and I celebrate mother's day very differently than I did in years past. I used to try to ignore the dread that would fill my heart, mind and body as I would walk down the card aisle and try to find a card that fit. There is no card that says "Happy Mother's day...I love you because I'm called to." I would inevitably go for the blank card in which I would then think of things that I loved about my mother without having to say "Thanks for being the best mom in the world"...because that was something I still cannot say.
About 2 weeks ago, my grandmother (my mom's mom) began calling me daily. I haven't heard from her in months. I figured something was up and though I was filled with dread at having to talk to her on the phone, knowing she would likely try to guilt me into something I didn't want to do, I called her. My mother's cancer is back. She said she wanted to know how involved I wanted to be. Believe it or not, after all the work I've done to heal- I still have a very hard time being honest and saying what I think when it comes to these women in my family. They intimidate the poo out of me on most occasions. So, I did what I "should" do and told her I wouldn't mind updates. In case it hasn't become readily apparent, the women in my family seem to have some confusion when it comes to boundaries. I didn't want daily updates- I'm not in a relationship with my mother, and her health status is no different than it was a year ago other than that instead of her being cured, the cancer has come back, but the prognosis is the same. Instead of telling my grandma the truth in confidence knowing I can make sound and wise decisions- I cowered and told her "sure, you can update me" when really I should have asked her to update my husband so he could be the filter. Well, I was not blunt and I paid for it. She called me EVERY DAY for 2 weeks. Now, keep in mind, I was already under tremendous strain due to the pregnancy complications, and was feeling overwhelmed as it was. I did not have the energy or desire to be dealing with this woman again.
I let every call go to voicemail- because I knew if I told her I needed my husband to take her calls, she would ask why- and I was not about to tell the queen of the family gossip mill that I was pregnant- my family would have jumped on that wagon like a swarm of bees to honey. No thank you. This apparently pissed her off, even though I kindly texted her and let her know I had been receiving medical updates from my brother and was well informed- that she didn't need to worry about keeping me in the loop. After a week and half of dodging her calls-again, simply because I was emotionally worn out and exhausted from pregnancy, my husband called her. Neither of us were prepared for her response. I was in the other room when my husband made the call, and I could immediately hear that my grandma was not happy that it was him and not me calling. I could hear her yelling at him through the phone...from the other room..."I will NOT go through a third party to speak to MY granddaughter. I have done NOTHING to deserve this treatment." My husband was like "what are you talking about? My wife simply asked me to call you because she is in the middle of taking care of some very important health issues...this has nothing to do with anything you did or didn't do. She simply asked me to get the information from you." He then proceeded to ask her if she would give him the information so he could tell me. Her reply "no. she can call me when she is ready." Wow. I was stunned- although I really shouldn't have been. This is not at all outside of the norm of behavior in our family.
To say I'm had it with dealing with these crazy ladies is a vast understatement. I cannot describe the level of exhaustion I feel when it comes to dealing with them. I then received a text message from one of my close friends. It was a screen shot of a message that my sister (who is not friends with her and has only met her once) sent to her. My sister was asking this friend if she had noticed any "strange behavior" in me or my husband over the last 6 months as she was very "concerned" that my husband had become controlling and was somehow making me do all these "crazy" things, as she had observed him to become controlling in the last 6 months. I believe in her mind, me standing up for myself and not putting up with their awful behavior is considered crazy. My whole family seems to think that my husband protecting me on certain issues means that he is feeding me lies and forcing opinions and making me step away from the family. They couldn't be farther from the truth!!! I just laughed and shook my head. Why? Well...I haven't spoken to my sister in over 6 months. She hasn't seen me or my husband in almost a year. So, how could she have observed abusive and controlling behavior on the part of my husband if she has seen neither of us in that 6 month period of time that she is claiming to have observed this??? Interesting isn't it...
I had two choices- I could ignore this and let her continue to believe she was getting away with talking to others behind my back and thinking I had no idea, or I could address it head on and attempt to put a stop to her shenanigans. I was not responding with any real sense of hope that she would internalize any of this and have a change of heart- I was doing this for me. After being silent and just taking the emotional beatings for years upon years, It is important for me to recognize the times when I can say something and it be beneficial only for me. I decided on the latter. I messaged my sister and pointed out that indeed her message to my friend was vastly inappropriate because she was attempting to come across as caring and concerned, when in fact, she had left out numerous details in an attempt to lead my friend astray and make me look bad. I pointed out that I thought it very strange that she claimed to have observed controlling behavior on the part of my husband in the last 6 months when she hadn't seen or spoken to either of us during that time. I also explained to her that my husband has not forced my hand or opinion in any matter. I have a mind of my own. I am of sound mind (how many times do I have to say it?!). I make my own decisions and my husband backs me up. I allow him to stand in and protect me when he feels the need to do that- which is both biblical and GOOD. I explained to her that she could think what she wanted of me and there was nothing I could do to change that, but that she was essentially calling good evil and evil good and that simply did not work for me because it was destroying any chance of a healthy relationship between us. I explained to her that if she wanted to stay and continue the family's way of "loving" and doing things, I would not stop her...but I had had it with her trying to drag me back into the pit that I have spent years trying to climb out of. I told her that I loved her- deeply, that I saw a better way for her in which she could be free and healthy and whole, but that the way she was doing things was, again, in no way healthy and I didn't see how there could be relationship between us when she continued to sabotage it with destructive behavior.
I do not want to come across as lacking compassion or empathy, both for my mom's illness and my other family members state of mind. I really don't know what I'm going to do in regards to my mother, other than that I will wait until I hear a word from the Lord. He has been beyond clear and adament that I stay put- I am not to have contact with her right now. Until I hear otherwise- even though I'm terrified of the backlash I will receive- I will stay put. In regards to my sister- I have a pretty strong sense as to what she is acting out of and truthfully, it breaks my heart. I want so desperately for her to be free. But there is something that I have learned the very painful and hard way and that is that sometimes our empathy is wasted on people who have no desire to to change or pursue life and wholeness. They are hell bent on destruction and are willing to take anyone and everyone down with them. We can follow Jesus's example and ask for discernment as to the hard situations in which we are called to stay, and the equally as hard (if not more so) situations in which we are called to leave and pursue all that He has for us.
I'm feeling pretty worn out- with the miscarriage, and my family's crazy, unrelenting pursuit of me. I have actually considered entering the witness protection program, but apparently that's not something you can just walk in and sign up for...sigh...
About 2 weeks ago, my grandmother (my mom's mom) began calling me daily. I haven't heard from her in months. I figured something was up and though I was filled with dread at having to talk to her on the phone, knowing she would likely try to guilt me into something I didn't want to do, I called her. My mother's cancer is back. She said she wanted to know how involved I wanted to be. Believe it or not, after all the work I've done to heal- I still have a very hard time being honest and saying what I think when it comes to these women in my family. They intimidate the poo out of me on most occasions. So, I did what I "should" do and told her I wouldn't mind updates. In case it hasn't become readily apparent, the women in my family seem to have some confusion when it comes to boundaries. I didn't want daily updates- I'm not in a relationship with my mother, and her health status is no different than it was a year ago other than that instead of her being cured, the cancer has come back, but the prognosis is the same. Instead of telling my grandma the truth in confidence knowing I can make sound and wise decisions- I cowered and told her "sure, you can update me" when really I should have asked her to update my husband so he could be the filter. Well, I was not blunt and I paid for it. She called me EVERY DAY for 2 weeks. Now, keep in mind, I was already under tremendous strain due to the pregnancy complications, and was feeling overwhelmed as it was. I did not have the energy or desire to be dealing with this woman again.
I let every call go to voicemail- because I knew if I told her I needed my husband to take her calls, she would ask why- and I was not about to tell the queen of the family gossip mill that I was pregnant- my family would have jumped on that wagon like a swarm of bees to honey. No thank you. This apparently pissed her off, even though I kindly texted her and let her know I had been receiving medical updates from my brother and was well informed- that she didn't need to worry about keeping me in the loop. After a week and half of dodging her calls-again, simply because I was emotionally worn out and exhausted from pregnancy, my husband called her. Neither of us were prepared for her response. I was in the other room when my husband made the call, and I could immediately hear that my grandma was not happy that it was him and not me calling. I could hear her yelling at him through the phone...from the other room..."I will NOT go through a third party to speak to MY granddaughter. I have done NOTHING to deserve this treatment." My husband was like "what are you talking about? My wife simply asked me to call you because she is in the middle of taking care of some very important health issues...this has nothing to do with anything you did or didn't do. She simply asked me to get the information from you." He then proceeded to ask her if she would give him the information so he could tell me. Her reply "no. she can call me when she is ready." Wow. I was stunned- although I really shouldn't have been. This is not at all outside of the norm of behavior in our family.
To say I'm had it with dealing with these crazy ladies is a vast understatement. I cannot describe the level of exhaustion I feel when it comes to dealing with them. I then received a text message from one of my close friends. It was a screen shot of a message that my sister (who is not friends with her and has only met her once) sent to her. My sister was asking this friend if she had noticed any "strange behavior" in me or my husband over the last 6 months as she was very "concerned" that my husband had become controlling and was somehow making me do all these "crazy" things, as she had observed him to become controlling in the last 6 months. I believe in her mind, me standing up for myself and not putting up with their awful behavior is considered crazy. My whole family seems to think that my husband protecting me on certain issues means that he is feeding me lies and forcing opinions and making me step away from the family. They couldn't be farther from the truth!!! I just laughed and shook my head. Why? Well...I haven't spoken to my sister in over 6 months. She hasn't seen me or my husband in almost a year. So, how could she have observed abusive and controlling behavior on the part of my husband if she has seen neither of us in that 6 month period of time that she is claiming to have observed this??? Interesting isn't it...
I had two choices- I could ignore this and let her continue to believe she was getting away with talking to others behind my back and thinking I had no idea, or I could address it head on and attempt to put a stop to her shenanigans. I was not responding with any real sense of hope that she would internalize any of this and have a change of heart- I was doing this for me. After being silent and just taking the emotional beatings for years upon years, It is important for me to recognize the times when I can say something and it be beneficial only for me. I decided on the latter. I messaged my sister and pointed out that indeed her message to my friend was vastly inappropriate because she was attempting to come across as caring and concerned, when in fact, she had left out numerous details in an attempt to lead my friend astray and make me look bad. I pointed out that I thought it very strange that she claimed to have observed controlling behavior on the part of my husband in the last 6 months when she hadn't seen or spoken to either of us during that time. I also explained to her that my husband has not forced my hand or opinion in any matter. I have a mind of my own. I am of sound mind (how many times do I have to say it?!). I make my own decisions and my husband backs me up. I allow him to stand in and protect me when he feels the need to do that- which is both biblical and GOOD. I explained to her that she could think what she wanted of me and there was nothing I could do to change that, but that she was essentially calling good evil and evil good and that simply did not work for me because it was destroying any chance of a healthy relationship between us. I explained to her that if she wanted to stay and continue the family's way of "loving" and doing things, I would not stop her...but I had had it with her trying to drag me back into the pit that I have spent years trying to climb out of. I told her that I loved her- deeply, that I saw a better way for her in which she could be free and healthy and whole, but that the way she was doing things was, again, in no way healthy and I didn't see how there could be relationship between us when she continued to sabotage it with destructive behavior.
I do not want to come across as lacking compassion or empathy, both for my mom's illness and my other family members state of mind. I really don't know what I'm going to do in regards to my mother, other than that I will wait until I hear a word from the Lord. He has been beyond clear and adament that I stay put- I am not to have contact with her right now. Until I hear otherwise- even though I'm terrified of the backlash I will receive- I will stay put. In regards to my sister- I have a pretty strong sense as to what she is acting out of and truthfully, it breaks my heart. I want so desperately for her to be free. But there is something that I have learned the very painful and hard way and that is that sometimes our empathy is wasted on people who have no desire to to change or pursue life and wholeness. They are hell bent on destruction and are willing to take anyone and everyone down with them. We can follow Jesus's example and ask for discernment as to the hard situations in which we are called to stay, and the equally as hard (if not more so) situations in which we are called to leave and pursue all that He has for us.
I'm feeling pretty worn out- with the miscarriage, and my family's crazy, unrelenting pursuit of me. I have actually considered entering the witness protection program, but apparently that's not something you can just walk in and sign up for...sigh...
Friday, May 9, 2014
God and Suffering
I know…I'm sure the title wants to make you want to read more! juuuuuusssstttt kidding. But I do think this is a very important topic because we ALL will suffer at varying degrees throughout our lives. Some of us seem to suffer more than others, and I would love to have the answer as to why that is…but I don't.
I lost a part of my future on Sunday. Some people have said "Thank God it was so early!" or "It could have been worse", or "at least you didn't meet the baby first." Well, all of these things are true to some extent, but the amount of grief I'm allowed to feel can't be measured by how long I was pregnant. God created our bodies in such an intricate way that the very first thing that happens after that baby implants itself and starts growing inside your womb is ATTACHMENT. So, whether I liked it or not- I attached to that little life budding inside of me. It represented a future for me and my husband, a sibling for our daughter, among many other things. It's not just a hormonal thing that causes us to love the little seed growing inside our bellies, although that is also part of God's amazing design in order for both mother and baby to survive.
I want to touch on some things- partly for my own processing- but also anyone who is experiencing any type of suffering. The first thing I want to address is something very well meaning people say when something awful happens: "It was God's will". Well, actually, no it wasn't. Death was never part of God's original design. If we go WAAAAYYYY back to the very beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the sea, the animals and Adam and Eve. There was no evil. There was no disease. There was no death. There was no separation. There was no suffering. There was, however, God's greatest gift: the gift of free will, which was an act of His love for us. God knew that if we were to truly experience love, it had to be a choice. So, he gave man that choice, and with that choice, sin entered the picture. And with sin came death, rape, incest, murder, slavery and disease. In a word: suffering.
It sounds pretty grim and dark until we realize that JESUS- our redemption- was ALSO planned from the very beginning: John 1:1 "In the beginning [before all time] was the Word ([a]Christ), and the Word was with God, and the Word was God [b]Himself."
Ok- we will come back to that, but let me say- God didn't take my baby from me. It wasn't his will that I be robbed of this joy and a part of my future. The word says in John 5:19 "So Jesus answered them by saying, I assure you, most solemnly I tell you, the Son is able to do nothing of Himself (of His own accord); but He is able to do only what He sees the Father doing, for whatever the Father does is what the Son does in the same way [in His turn]." We MUST look to Jesus to know the Father's heart towards us when the you-know-what hits the fan and all goes dark and ugly. What did Jesus come to do? John 10:10 paints a good picture of this "The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may haveand enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it [a]overflows)." For further description of what Jesus came to do- please read Isaiah 61. With these two scriptures in mind, we can KNOW that God is wholly good. There is no bad in him. There is no darkness in Him (1 John 1:5). He is truth. He is life.
I'm assuming I'm not the only one to ask this question- since God is good, and it was not his will that I miscarry (insert pain and suffering here), then why did I? Well… the truth is, I really don't have an answer for that, other than that we live in a fallen world that is exposed to death. I wish I understood it more. But the one thing I do know, is that since God is good- I can fully expect his provision, strength, and comfort. I don't have to harden myself to pain and sorrow due to the idea that it was Gods will that I suffer- because it's simply not true. There are so many people whose grief is short circuited and their wholeness never realized because they believe the lie that it was Gods will for them to suffer. Sometimes it's self preservation- "since it was Gods will- I can't be angry with him because he is GOD! I'll hide my grief because that would call into question the character of God." Well, we have to remember that God made us, and anyone who has experienced grief in it's fullness will walk through a wide range of emotions- denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance. He is not afraid of our emotions, but I believe he longs to be the source of comfort and strength along the way.
I realize every day that I have a choice. I can shut my heart off, turn it away from
my creator out of pain and sorrow because it hurts to expose my pain. Or I can choose to expose myself to His goodness because I desperately need it. Since I am in Christ- so are all my circumstances. I want to be clear though- in no way is this fun or easy. Jesus makes it easier because He ministers to us, but it is still very hard and painful. The truth is- my body is weak from 5 weeks of modified bed rest and the loss of blood, my emotions are worn thin, and my heart is aching. I'm not sleeping well, and I have a very strong willed 3 year old who is testing the limits of my sanity and patience. The fact that my boobs no longer hurt and I'm no longer nauseous to the point of dry heaving the NOTHING I had all day makes me weep.
On another note- I didn't realize how terribly I missed wrestling and tickling that little fire brand of mine until I COULD. I laughed until I cried because I realized- just like me- it had been a while since she had laughed too and that broke my heart. I'm pretty sure her love language is wrestling and tickling…you will win her over in a matter of minutes if you do that!
I'll leave you with this…
Romans 15:13 "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."
I lost a part of my future on Sunday. Some people have said "Thank God it was so early!" or "It could have been worse", or "at least you didn't meet the baby first." Well, all of these things are true to some extent, but the amount of grief I'm allowed to feel can't be measured by how long I was pregnant. God created our bodies in such an intricate way that the very first thing that happens after that baby implants itself and starts growing inside your womb is ATTACHMENT. So, whether I liked it or not- I attached to that little life budding inside of me. It represented a future for me and my husband, a sibling for our daughter, among many other things. It's not just a hormonal thing that causes us to love the little seed growing inside our bellies, although that is also part of God's amazing design in order for both mother and baby to survive.
I want to touch on some things- partly for my own processing- but also anyone who is experiencing any type of suffering. The first thing I want to address is something very well meaning people say when something awful happens: "It was God's will". Well, actually, no it wasn't. Death was never part of God's original design. If we go WAAAAYYYY back to the very beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the sea, the animals and Adam and Eve. There was no evil. There was no disease. There was no death. There was no separation. There was no suffering. There was, however, God's greatest gift: the gift of free will, which was an act of His love for us. God knew that if we were to truly experience love, it had to be a choice. So, he gave man that choice, and with that choice, sin entered the picture. And with sin came death, rape, incest, murder, slavery and disease. In a word: suffering.
It sounds pretty grim and dark until we realize that JESUS- our redemption- was ALSO planned from the very beginning: John 1:1 "In the beginning [before all time] was the Word ([a]Christ), and the Word was with God, and the Word was God [b]Himself."
Ok- we will come back to that, but let me say- God didn't take my baby from me. It wasn't his will that I be robbed of this joy and a part of my future. The word says in John 5:19 "So Jesus answered them by saying, I assure you, most solemnly I tell you, the Son is able to do nothing of Himself (of His own accord); but He is able to do only what He sees the Father doing, for whatever the Father does is what the Son does in the same way [in His turn]." We MUST look to Jesus to know the Father's heart towards us when the you-know-what hits the fan and all goes dark and ugly. What did Jesus come to do? John 10:10 paints a good picture of this "The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may haveand enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it [a]overflows)." For further description of what Jesus came to do- please read Isaiah 61. With these two scriptures in mind, we can KNOW that God is wholly good. There is no bad in him. There is no darkness in Him (1 John 1:5). He is truth. He is life.
I'm assuming I'm not the only one to ask this question- since God is good, and it was not his will that I miscarry (insert pain and suffering here), then why did I? Well… the truth is, I really don't have an answer for that, other than that we live in a fallen world that is exposed to death. I wish I understood it more. But the one thing I do know, is that since God is good- I can fully expect his provision, strength, and comfort. I don't have to harden myself to pain and sorrow due to the idea that it was Gods will that I suffer- because it's simply not true. There are so many people whose grief is short circuited and their wholeness never realized because they believe the lie that it was Gods will for them to suffer. Sometimes it's self preservation- "since it was Gods will- I can't be angry with him because he is GOD! I'll hide my grief because that would call into question the character of God." Well, we have to remember that God made us, and anyone who has experienced grief in it's fullness will walk through a wide range of emotions- denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance. He is not afraid of our emotions, but I believe he longs to be the source of comfort and strength along the way.
I realize every day that I have a choice. I can shut my heart off, turn it away from
my creator out of pain and sorrow because it hurts to expose my pain. Or I can choose to expose myself to His goodness because I desperately need it. Since I am in Christ- so are all my circumstances. I want to be clear though- in no way is this fun or easy. Jesus makes it easier because He ministers to us, but it is still very hard and painful. The truth is- my body is weak from 5 weeks of modified bed rest and the loss of blood, my emotions are worn thin, and my heart is aching. I'm not sleeping well, and I have a very strong willed 3 year old who is testing the limits of my sanity and patience. The fact that my boobs no longer hurt and I'm no longer nauseous to the point of dry heaving the NOTHING I had all day makes me weep.
On another note- I didn't realize how terribly I missed wrestling and tickling that little fire brand of mine until I COULD. I laughed until I cried because I realized- just like me- it had been a while since she had laughed too and that broke my heart. I'm pretty sure her love language is wrestling and tickling…you will win her over in a matter of minutes if you do that!
I'll leave you with this…
Romans 15:13 "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."
Monday, May 5, 2014
For every problem...
Well, I guess it's about time I write about this here since it's kind of been all consuming for some weeks now. I found out I was pregnant again in the middle of March. I started out very fearful- would I miscarry again? What if I couldn't have more children? Could I handle another miscarriage so soon? But…it was too late- I was already on that ride whether I was really ready to be or not. Because of my fear, I had asked the OB's office to do repeat HCG's at the beginning to ease my mind. It did the exact opposite because my numbers were "lower than they would like them to be" (although I later found out it was only because I was much earlier than we thought and the numbers were well within the normal range.) Because I was new to this particular practice- no doctor called me back. In fact, the office never even called me back after telling me my numbers weren't normal and we would just have to wait and see. Panic ensued. I was immediately right back in that ultrasound room where I learned that the second baby had died. It was not a pretty day.
Finally, however, one of the OB's called me back and assured me my numbers were well within the normal range for where I was at, and the only real way we could determine the health of the pregnancy was to do an internal ultrasound (aka transvaginal)…sounds fun eh?
That was at 5 weeks, so we really couldn't see anything besides the gestational sac (which is the first "structure" to develop inside the womb). Everything looked healthy and I was told to be seen in 2 weeks to see the development. Well, the day of my appointment, I started bleeding. Not just a little spot, but a full on gush of blood. I was terrified. I could not believe this was happening again. I thought for sure I had just miscarried so I called the OB's office and they got me in that day.
I had prepared myself for the worst and fully expected to see nothing on the ultrasound. But, to our surprise, the baby was there with a strong heart beat, measuring 7 1/2 weeks- right on schedule. They also saw the area of bleeding. They couldn't tell at that point where it was coming from, but the most likely cause is called a subchorionic bleed or hemorrhage and occurs when the egg first implants into the uterus and the placenta and amniotic sac starts to form- it doesn't attach all the way and the blood vessels leak inside the uterus. I was told to keep my fingers crossed, rest and we would just have to wait and see.
Because of the recent miscarriage- I was terrified of losing this one too. It definitely hit on some nerves emotionally and spiritually. Why was this happening again? It felt unfair because seeing blood on a daily basis is not only abnormal, but a bit triggering when you've lost a pregnancy in that way already. I wrestled pretty good with this for almost two weeks. I didn't realize it in the moment, but I was trying to bargain and perform so that God would give me a good outcome- yet, I know that this is largely based in a lie. I have done nothing to deserve God's grace and goodness in my life, and this situation is not punishment for any wrongdoing- yet, my automatic fall back was to perform so as not to experience another loss or disappointment. It was a rough two weeks because I desperately wanted to fall back on that performance, yet I knew nothing good would come of it. This could work out fine and it would have nothing to do with me, or it could end in the worst way and it would have nothing to do with how good I am.
I had another massive bleed at around 9 weeks, and ended up going to the ER because I just kept bleeding for hours and was afraid I was hemorrhaging. The baby looked good, but the bleed had actually GROWN and was completely surrounding the baby. I felt completely helpless. But, I had a pretty strong feeling that God was working on something in my heart because I could not rest. I felt restless and helpless. Not a good combination. Something needed to be settled. I knew it had something to do with performance, but I still couldn't put my finger on it. What it finally came down to was that I wanted God to do what I wanted, and I was not trusting that no matter what the outcome was- good or bad- that He would provide for me in every way that I needed. I also decided at this point that I wasn't NOT going to celebrate the pregnancy and treat it like any other pregnancy just because I was afraid of miscarriage. A million things could go wrong at ANY time during pregnancy- I wasn't going to deny myself the joy of that out of fear of losing.
I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but after a prayer time with a friend in which I asked for healing of my physical body, we also asked that I would understand what the Holy Spirit was praying for so that I could begin to agree with him. I saw a picture of Jesus holding one hand and the Holy Spirit holding my other hand and I knew I had a choice- I could grab hold of both of them, or I could hold onto this notion that the outcome of my situation had something to do with my performance and continue to try and control things. I decided to let go of that notion and grab ahold of the the only one that I knew would not fail me- even if this ended poorly- and that was Jesus. I wouldn't say it was immediate, but I definitely noticed over the next few days just an immense peace wash over me. I knew that God was walking me through this one step at a time. I didn't know the outcome but I felt protected and covered and fathered in a way that was incredibly intimate I can't fully explain.
**You can see below what are called placental lakes- the small black circle and the large black areas surrounding the gestational sac and baby is all blood. In a normal ultrasound- it would be grey indicating nothing else in the uterus but baby, placenta and sac.**
*** WARNING- the next part is somewhat graphic***
I went in for my weekly scan at 11 weeks and again the baby looked great. I could see it wiggling around, heart fluttering away. The bleed was still there and was still significant enough that the doctor didn't feel I was in the clear yet. We all know the 12 week mark is one to be celebrated because it usually means the safe zone…every week felt like victory to me.
Saturday night, I crawled in bed and noticed I was having a bit more cramping than normal, but it wasn't painful. I had been bleeding this whole time, including clots, so when I passed some- it was not surprising to me. Over the next hour, the clotting and cramping intensified but it still wasn't BAD pain so I tried to go back to sleep. Well, it just grew exponentially worse from there. I whipped out my fetal doppler and immediately found the baby's heartbeat- so I figured this was just going to be my weekly blood emptying episode. The cramping intensified and I was unable to sleep through the pain, at which point I knew something was wrong. Again I found the heartbeat so that consoled me a little bit- but the pain suddenly became so intense that I couldn't walk fully. It was 1245 in the morning by this time so I woke up my husband and told him I needed him to call his parents and have them come so he could take me to the doctor. They were there within 30 minutes to watch our 3 year old, and by then the pain was unbearable.
Having had one full term live birth, and a miscarriage, I have to say the main difference is that with the live birth there were breaks between contraction. With this- it was just one giant excruciating contraction that lasted for more than 2 hours. We hurried to the ER and were told there were no rooms available and would have to wait. So, there I sat bleeding and in so much pain I just had to sit there and cry because the only other option was to pass out. We waited. Believe it or not the pain got worse. I literally wanted to die in that moment because the pain was so intense- but it suddenly stopped and I felt a gush. I made my husband rush me to the bathroom, which thankfully was not occupied.
That gush was my water breaking- I felt something come out into the toilet so I reached down into the toilet bowl and found what ended up being the baby. I picked it up and held it's precious little body in my hand. I can't fully describe what I felt in that moment. I felt incredible love and amazement- the baby was perfectly formed (although not yet viable outside the womb). It had every toe, every finger, tiny little lips and was curled up. I also felt immense sorrow- here was this sweet little thing that I have anticipated and prayed for- just lifeless in my hand. There was nothing to be done. There really are no words for that. I called my husband in and unfortunately didn't really have time to prepare him for what he was about to see- but somehow he knew. We just sat there in amazement and shock.
Somehow they had a room available for me immediately after that and the pain was still a 12/10 so I was given morphine. The rest of the early morning was spent doing an ultrasound to make sure I had passed everything, checking my labs to make sure I hadn't lost too much blood, and then I was sent home.
I felt that somehow- even without my knowing- God had prepared my heart. I was not fearful or anxious. I felt immense peace. The kind of peace that makes no sense for what you've just experienced. In that moment when I held the baby in my hands- I had an overwhelming feeling that God was holding me much the same. He too was weeping over my loss. That brought me so much comfort.
I am grieved- of course. I won't pretend that it doesn't hurt- because it does. It hurts badly. There is so much of our heart and mind and body that goes into having a child that to say the loss is insignificant is unthinkable. It is very significant. My plans that were shaped by "I'll be this pregnant at such and such time" have been changed in the matter of hours. I now have to go back and un-tell everyone I told. That is a painful thing to have to do. Our 3 year old asked me the next morning- as she does every day- "Did you sleep? Did the baby grow while you slept?" I was not prepared for that response or what I would say if she asked me. I just burst into tears. It was hard to tell her that the baby was all gone. Now her daily question is "did the baby fall out? Are you gonna get a new one?" Apparently she was attached the the little bean too...
There is this idea in Christian communities and churches sometimes that to have faith means we don't feel- fear, doubt, anxiety, anger. There is this religious notion that when bad things happen you did something wrong- as if we are living to appease an angry God. Well, if that is something you happen to believe- I would like to challenge that with the fact that punishment was done away with on the day that Jesus bore every sin, iniquity and disease upon the cross. That is done away with completely. We are not being punished when things go wrong. That used to be my frame of mind whenever the you-know-what would hit the fan. Now, even if I struggle to get there, the thought has become something more like this: If I am in Christ, then so are my circumstances. The word says that Jesus is seated with the Father in heavenly places. So, therefore- so is my problem because me and my problem are fully seated in Christ. So, if that is true- then what does this mean for my problem? And then it becomes a time of exploring that with God. Again- this doesn't necessarily dull the grief- that will be a process within a process- but I know that I am not without hope. That my future and hope are held in the Father's heart for me and I can trust in that.
Finally, however, one of the OB's called me back and assured me my numbers were well within the normal range for where I was at, and the only real way we could determine the health of the pregnancy was to do an internal ultrasound (aka transvaginal)…sounds fun eh?
That was at 5 weeks, so we really couldn't see anything besides the gestational sac (which is the first "structure" to develop inside the womb). Everything looked healthy and I was told to be seen in 2 weeks to see the development. Well, the day of my appointment, I started bleeding. Not just a little spot, but a full on gush of blood. I was terrified. I could not believe this was happening again. I thought for sure I had just miscarried so I called the OB's office and they got me in that day.
I had prepared myself for the worst and fully expected to see nothing on the ultrasound. But, to our surprise, the baby was there with a strong heart beat, measuring 7 1/2 weeks- right on schedule. They also saw the area of bleeding. They couldn't tell at that point where it was coming from, but the most likely cause is called a subchorionic bleed or hemorrhage and occurs when the egg first implants into the uterus and the placenta and amniotic sac starts to form- it doesn't attach all the way and the blood vessels leak inside the uterus. I was told to keep my fingers crossed, rest and we would just have to wait and see.
Because of the recent miscarriage- I was terrified of losing this one too. It definitely hit on some nerves emotionally and spiritually. Why was this happening again? It felt unfair because seeing blood on a daily basis is not only abnormal, but a bit triggering when you've lost a pregnancy in that way already. I wrestled pretty good with this for almost two weeks. I didn't realize it in the moment, but I was trying to bargain and perform so that God would give me a good outcome- yet, I know that this is largely based in a lie. I have done nothing to deserve God's grace and goodness in my life, and this situation is not punishment for any wrongdoing- yet, my automatic fall back was to perform so as not to experience another loss or disappointment. It was a rough two weeks because I desperately wanted to fall back on that performance, yet I knew nothing good would come of it. This could work out fine and it would have nothing to do with me, or it could end in the worst way and it would have nothing to do with how good I am.
I had another massive bleed at around 9 weeks, and ended up going to the ER because I just kept bleeding for hours and was afraid I was hemorrhaging. The baby looked good, but the bleed had actually GROWN and was completely surrounding the baby. I felt completely helpless. But, I had a pretty strong feeling that God was working on something in my heart because I could not rest. I felt restless and helpless. Not a good combination. Something needed to be settled. I knew it had something to do with performance, but I still couldn't put my finger on it. What it finally came down to was that I wanted God to do what I wanted, and I was not trusting that no matter what the outcome was- good or bad- that He would provide for me in every way that I needed. I also decided at this point that I wasn't NOT going to celebrate the pregnancy and treat it like any other pregnancy just because I was afraid of miscarriage. A million things could go wrong at ANY time during pregnancy- I wasn't going to deny myself the joy of that out of fear of losing.
I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but after a prayer time with a friend in which I asked for healing of my physical body, we also asked that I would understand what the Holy Spirit was praying for so that I could begin to agree with him. I saw a picture of Jesus holding one hand and the Holy Spirit holding my other hand and I knew I had a choice- I could grab hold of both of them, or I could hold onto this notion that the outcome of my situation had something to do with my performance and continue to try and control things. I decided to let go of that notion and grab ahold of the the only one that I knew would not fail me- even if this ended poorly- and that was Jesus. I wouldn't say it was immediate, but I definitely noticed over the next few days just an immense peace wash over me. I knew that God was walking me through this one step at a time. I didn't know the outcome but I felt protected and covered and fathered in a way that was incredibly intimate I can't fully explain.
**You can see below what are called placental lakes- the small black circle and the large black areas surrounding the gestational sac and baby is all blood. In a normal ultrasound- it would be grey indicating nothing else in the uterus but baby, placenta and sac.**
*** WARNING- the next part is somewhat graphic***
I went in for my weekly scan at 11 weeks and again the baby looked great. I could see it wiggling around, heart fluttering away. The bleed was still there and was still significant enough that the doctor didn't feel I was in the clear yet. We all know the 12 week mark is one to be celebrated because it usually means the safe zone…every week felt like victory to me.
Saturday night, I crawled in bed and noticed I was having a bit more cramping than normal, but it wasn't painful. I had been bleeding this whole time, including clots, so when I passed some- it was not surprising to me. Over the next hour, the clotting and cramping intensified but it still wasn't BAD pain so I tried to go back to sleep. Well, it just grew exponentially worse from there. I whipped out my fetal doppler and immediately found the baby's heartbeat- so I figured this was just going to be my weekly blood emptying episode. The cramping intensified and I was unable to sleep through the pain, at which point I knew something was wrong. Again I found the heartbeat so that consoled me a little bit- but the pain suddenly became so intense that I couldn't walk fully. It was 1245 in the morning by this time so I woke up my husband and told him I needed him to call his parents and have them come so he could take me to the doctor. They were there within 30 minutes to watch our 3 year old, and by then the pain was unbearable.
Having had one full term live birth, and a miscarriage, I have to say the main difference is that with the live birth there were breaks between contraction. With this- it was just one giant excruciating contraction that lasted for more than 2 hours. We hurried to the ER and were told there were no rooms available and would have to wait. So, there I sat bleeding and in so much pain I just had to sit there and cry because the only other option was to pass out. We waited. Believe it or not the pain got worse. I literally wanted to die in that moment because the pain was so intense- but it suddenly stopped and I felt a gush. I made my husband rush me to the bathroom, which thankfully was not occupied.
That gush was my water breaking- I felt something come out into the toilet so I reached down into the toilet bowl and found what ended up being the baby. I picked it up and held it's precious little body in my hand. I can't fully describe what I felt in that moment. I felt incredible love and amazement- the baby was perfectly formed (although not yet viable outside the womb). It had every toe, every finger, tiny little lips and was curled up. I also felt immense sorrow- here was this sweet little thing that I have anticipated and prayed for- just lifeless in my hand. There was nothing to be done. There really are no words for that. I called my husband in and unfortunately didn't really have time to prepare him for what he was about to see- but somehow he knew. We just sat there in amazement and shock.
Somehow they had a room available for me immediately after that and the pain was still a 12/10 so I was given morphine. The rest of the early morning was spent doing an ultrasound to make sure I had passed everything, checking my labs to make sure I hadn't lost too much blood, and then I was sent home.
I felt that somehow- even without my knowing- God had prepared my heart. I was not fearful or anxious. I felt immense peace. The kind of peace that makes no sense for what you've just experienced. In that moment when I held the baby in my hands- I had an overwhelming feeling that God was holding me much the same. He too was weeping over my loss. That brought me so much comfort.
I am grieved- of course. I won't pretend that it doesn't hurt- because it does. It hurts badly. There is so much of our heart and mind and body that goes into having a child that to say the loss is insignificant is unthinkable. It is very significant. My plans that were shaped by "I'll be this pregnant at such and such time" have been changed in the matter of hours. I now have to go back and un-tell everyone I told. That is a painful thing to have to do. Our 3 year old asked me the next morning- as she does every day- "Did you sleep? Did the baby grow while you slept?" I was not prepared for that response or what I would say if she asked me. I just burst into tears. It was hard to tell her that the baby was all gone. Now her daily question is "did the baby fall out? Are you gonna get a new one?" Apparently she was attached the the little bean too...
There is this idea in Christian communities and churches sometimes that to have faith means we don't feel- fear, doubt, anxiety, anger. There is this religious notion that when bad things happen you did something wrong- as if we are living to appease an angry God. Well, if that is something you happen to believe- I would like to challenge that with the fact that punishment was done away with on the day that Jesus bore every sin, iniquity and disease upon the cross. That is done away with completely. We are not being punished when things go wrong. That used to be my frame of mind whenever the you-know-what would hit the fan. Now, even if I struggle to get there, the thought has become something more like this: If I am in Christ, then so are my circumstances. The word says that Jesus is seated with the Father in heavenly places. So, therefore- so is my problem because me and my problem are fully seated in Christ. So, if that is true- then what does this mean for my problem? And then it becomes a time of exploring that with God. Again- this doesn't necessarily dull the grief- that will be a process within a process- but I know that I am not without hope. That my future and hope are held in the Father's heart for me and I can trust in that.
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