What it's like to grieve an abuser Part II

I'm going to expand on my previous post about grieving an abusive parent. I started the book "Motherless Daughters: The Legacy of Loss" just a few months after my mother passed away. (You can read about how I happened to land upon that here), but due to being in my last trimester of pregnancy, dealing with some behavior issues in our first born, and then HAVING our second child and the whirlwind that is parenting, I had to put it away for a while. I wasn't neglecting my grief, I just couldn't delve into the book at the time, in spite of it's helpfulness.

It has been almost a year since my mother passed away. I was in a funk last week and I couldn't figure out why and then all of a sudden it occurred to me....'ohhhhh yeah....this was the time." And I began to wonder, have I even processed that? I know it's time to deal with something when it replays or comes forward with a rush of emotion. I'm not sure I even know how to put it in words. I have to resist the urge to want to shove that in a mental box, never to be opened again.

When it came time to say goodbye, I was terrified...I mean, I haven't seen this woman in years, and for good reason.  She finally conceded to let me have my husband with me and I knew it was time. She had, up until then, refused to let me have him present because SHE was afraid of HIM. He had only ever protected me, and she was the one I needed protection from. I didn't know if she would use those final moments to be awful, or if somehow God would restrain her- so I wanted my husband there.  I had a group of friends praying about the whole thing and surprisingly, all I felt was peace once I got there. But, it was so hard. I cried immediately when I saw her. She was just a fragment of what she once was. She was rail thin, emaciated. Her skin was gaunt, and her eyes sunken in. She had tubes everywhere. Her intestines were greatly affected both by the cancer but also from the chemotherapy. She couldn't eat because she couldn't digest anything. She would take a sip of water and seconds later, it would come pouring out of a tube that protruded from her stomach. I am a nurse, so this largely didn't scare me. But...truly, her death was terrible. It broke my heart to see how greatly she suffered in the end. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. She alternated between lucid and incoherent. At times it felt like I was talking to a child, and others she was present and even made some sense. She would babble on about what items in the house she wanted us to have, and then burst into tears at the thought that she was leaving. She wanted to do it all over again. She wanted to go back and be the mom that we needed. All I could do was nod to that. I didn't try to make her feel better about her choices or belittle our experiences with her. I just simply nodded.  At my response, she quickly said "well, I did the best I could. I was so broken." Her mental illness again running the show. To me, seeing her in that state was like seeing a very physical representation of her state of mind. Her mind was, too, ravaged by disease- just a different disease. I reassured her that I had forgiven her, she was not in my debt. I wanted her to know that when it was time to go, she could go in peace knowing that I held nothing against her. She nodded, tears filling her eyes.

I've been trying to figure out why it took me so long to grieve. I don't judge myself for this, it is what it is. I think a majority of it is because while she was living, whenever I felt the pangs of not having a mother figure, my not having a mother was a much better option than having a mother like her. I couldn't really look beyond that. I realize what I'm grieving now is what I had always wanted and needed.  What I had always hoped I would get from her or that our relationship could be. In many ways, what I'm feeling now, the absence, mirrors how I felt all growing up: She was physically there, but emotionally absent. Her emotional absence was preferred to the constant boundary violations or her abusive presence, but both left me without the mother that I always wanted and needed. I couldn't acknowledge that longing deep inside or that feeling of emptiness or absence that I had been carrying for a very long time. I feel it when parenting is hard and I really wish I had someone to call and get advice from. When I'm trying to make a decision and just need a listening ear, I feel the absence. When my daughters do something amazing and hilarious or absolutely terrifying and maddening, I feel the absence. The longing. Its incredibly weird to be in my very early thirties and have no parents. To feel like you still need their support at times, or guidance and there is no one there. It's very hard.

I am incredibly grateful for the friends that I call family. Those who have stepped in and and filled in the gaps. It has made all the difference in the world to me.

What it's like to grieve an abuser

Life is complicated. Beautiful and hard and complicated.

I somehow naively thought I would escape the pain of grieving my BPD (Borderline Personality Disordered) mom. I feel really silly saying that, but it's true. I thought after all I had been through with her, there was NO way I would feel sad that she was gone. This is what makes grieving the death of an abusive parent so difficult. On the one hand, there is tremendous relief knowing they can no longer harass you, talk badly about you behind your back, turn others against you or make you pay for refusing to enable them. That is the sad reality. I am not losing something good or healthy.

What does grief look like? Well, I think for starters, grief is different for everyone and its important to keep that in mind. What it looks like for one may not be the same for another. I think that is something that our culture really lacks. We lack knowing how to grieve and knowing how to be there for others in a time of loss. There is no real ceremony, aside from a funeral/wake, no change of dress to demonstrate where you are in your grief process, and often times the one grieving is told to hurry up and get on with their process. It can be terribly invalidating and damaging to say that to someone. We need to honor both the individuals style of grief as well as the person they have lost.

I hit a rough grief patch a few months ago. I was really reeling from it. I was SO TIRED of losing things and grieving things that I found myself resisting the process. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was facing some self judgement about what i should and should not feel. On top of that, I had just had a very close friend tell me that I should be over it. That I shouldn't reach out for comfort for friends because that's not what friends are for. A big old pile of poo if you ask me, but nonetheless, it left me confused and hurt.

God is so unbelievably kind and faithful. He never fails me. My husband and I were at a Habitat for Humanity resale store and a bookshelf caught my eye. I thought there would be some home owners books or project books but one book in particular stood out. It was called "Motherless Daughters." I couldn't believe my eyes. How did this end up here, of all places? Needless to say- even though I had been terribly invalidated by a friend, I had NOT been invalidated by God. He knew exactly what I needed.

I wept through the entire first chapter. The woman who wrote the book lost her mother when she was 17, and subsequently went on in her adult years to study how the loss of a mother affects daughters in particular. She was THOROUGH. She studied what affects happened at what age, and how to progress through developmental challenges that inevitably come up when there is no mother to guide that development. She talked about how having a mentally ill parent means that we often grieve them at every stage where they were not emotionally available to meet our needs, from the past all the way into the future. Wow. That answered so many questions I didn't even know I had. All of this uncertainty about being a mother to a second child without a mother of my own started to make complete sense.

Developmentally speaking, children grow and learn to differentiate and individuate by having a caregiver to look back to on a regular basis AS they take steps in development. For example, a toddler learning to walk wants to go explore, but is anxious about the task and needs a caregiver to look back to for reassurance and comfort as they go forth. The same is true but in different ways at every developmental milestone all the way into adulthood- the looking back for a caregiver for reassurance and comfort. It's how we as humans learn to attach, detach and become confident in our own abilities.

So much of my past has been grieved and healed. But there are times where it hits me like a wave as I'm parenting my own daughter. I recognize that for so much of my childhood, my mother was not emotionally present. There are so many things I get to do with my daughter that I have no recollection of doing with my mom. I have almost no memories of closeness or comfort. Hearing her laugh was so infrequent that it would often catch me off guard as a child and cause me to cry. That was the mom I wanted around but so rarely got to see and experience.

What I grieve now is not the mother that I had, because she was buried under the rubble of her own life's mess and mental illness. What I grieve is the mother I always wanted. Not having a mother at all to celebrate birthdays and babies and life changes with. I grieve that the relationship never got better because she never got better.

So, for anyone grieving ANYTHING, know that it's entirely appropriate and acceptable to reach out and talk about your process. Or just ask someone to sit with you while you cry. I have found that few people are really capable of that, and if you have no close friends or family to do that with, find a good counselor who will just be present with you while you process. I PROMISE...you will be so much the better for it.

2 Corinthians 1:3-5  "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. 5 For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."

Heartache and Finding Healing

As I've mentioned before, this miscarriage has been a lot tougher to recover from than the first. I've been caught off guard many times by how deeply invested I was in this pregnancy. Of course, I had about 6 ultrasounds in a 5 week period of time so I got to see the little guy move and grow much more frequently than any previous pregnancy due to the bleeding.

I have a tendency to repress or suppress emotions as a habit, but over the last 3 years in counseling and learning to process many events from my past, I've learned that there is value in the process. It is unpleasant, painful and incredibly hard to do sometimes. But I know that if I don't process it now, I'll pay for it later.

I had a dear, close friend call me the other day and tell me she is pregnant with their third child. I was not prepared at all for how sad this would make me feel. Of course, I am so happy for her! But I am sad for me. It would have been fun to be pregnant with a friend. It brought to the surface the fact that I would be finding out the sex of the baby right about now, and gosh darn it, I still just want to be pregnant! I had to keep moving with my day because I have a preschooler to raise and I can't just fall apart in front of her. I saved my tears for later and just let myself feel it all. I ugly cried and it felt good. The memories of laboring with babies I would never get to love on, and watch grow to be amazing and frustrating creatures. Letting that life slip from me because I had no other choice but to let them go. Ugh. I didn't know that one could grieve like this over something so "small".

I have a strong sense that this most recent baby was a boy. I don't know why I felt that way, but I felt it from the start. And I'm really mad at myself for not examining to see if my suspicion was true at the moment of delivery.  The pathology report didn't list whether it was female or male and that bother's me.

I think one of the more frustrating things about miscarriage is the sense that what you experienced isn't real because no one talks about it. No one mentions it unless you bring it up that you lost a child in that way and then they are quick to chime in and let you know that they are part of the illusive miscarriage club too. I think, in general, grief is something that is minimized, poorly understood and looked down upon in our culture. You're expected to behave as normal in spite of what you've just been through, be it the loss of a child, spouse, friend...and it's not healthy. We are human. We will experience a wide range of emotions and feelings while grieving. It won't last forever. What if instead of assuming that we should feel or be a certain way, we focused instead on processing WELL.

How does one process well? Well, the first thing that comes to mind is one has to feel safe enough to feel frightening emotions like anger, sadness, immense pain. And some of us can't do that alone. I am now at a place where I have learned how  to comfort myself, and I've learned when it's okay to reach out for comfort from others. The second thing would be that you need to have a strong support system. Even if it's just two solid, strong support people. They will help you to have a sense of groundedness when you feel like the bottom just fell out from underneath you. The third thing- at least for me- is to give yourself time and space. Don't rush things. This has been the hardest thing for me to do. I want to be in any other season but the one I'm in- where so many people around me are popping out babies like its nobody's business and  it feels like everyone is moving forward and you're stuck at the train station.Not only that, people ask questions- that are well meaning-but cause pain, such as: "Arent you guys ready for number 2 yet?"...I can't help but bow my head in sorrow..."yes...of COURSE I'm ready for number 2. I've BEEN ready for number 2."

This verse has been etched in my heart and has become my prayer for this season: Habakkuk 3:19 "The Lord God is my strength, my personal bravery and my invincible army; He makes my feet like hinds's feet and will make me to walk [not to stand still in terror but to walk] and make [spiritual] progress upon my high places [of trouble, suffering or responsibility]!.." Even if, God forbid, I should never have another child, my prayer is that my HEART would remain full. That I would be able to make progress upon MY high places which right now happen to be painful and troublesome.

There is always hope in the middle of loss and chaos- even when it doesn't feel like it. We just keep moving, one foot at a time, one moment and day at a time. I'm choosing to live more purposefully on a daily basis so that I don't miss the GOOD there is in each day that I'm left waiting.

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.

Acceptance

I've been thinking about the idea of acceptance for a while now, probably because I'm struggling to grasp it, struggling to come to terms with several hardships that have come upon my life. I used to think of acceptance as only the final stage of grief, but as I'm learning- grief is cyclical and you can bounce around from denial to anger to bargaining, back to denial, and somehow land in acceptance. This doesn't have to take weeks or months, you can spin around in the grief cycle in one day. In my terms, acceptance is coming to terms with the reality of your situation (whatever that may be- death, loss, unemployment, WAITING…) and accepting it for what it is at this very moment.

When my dad was battling cancer, going through radiation and chemotherapy-I had accepted that he had cancer and needed treatment, and there was something empowering about being able to DO something. But, there came a point where there was nothing left to do- no more surgeries, no more clinical trials or specialized treatment. Nothing. We had to accept the fact that short of a miracle- my dad would be leaving this earth in short order. I can't put into words what it felt like to accept that truth. That sinking feeling. The darkness that followed. The depression. A part of me died then too.

I have accepted that my mother is mentally ill and there is not a darn thing I can do to change that. Only Jesus can change that, and he won't force that upon my mother, so even that isn't entirely up to him! Does he want her willingness and cooperation? You bet! Will he force it upon her? nope. The wonderful thing about this is that though we don't always cooperate with God- He never leaves us. He is always there, working with us. 

Acceptance. I've accepted a lot of things in my life, but it seems I'm only able to deal with things in layers. I am human after all. I feel like I've dealt with something- it's done, and then an unhealed piece will rise up that I must attend to. But I've felt over the last week or so, fighting my own reality. I don't want to accept the miscarriage. I don't want to accept that my family is dysfunctional and that I am not accepted. I don't want to accept that I feel "blue" after losing this pregnancy and that it's taking me longer to recover emotionally than I want. But what good does denial do? Well, for a while, it gives us the sense of protection. But it isn't meant to hang around forever. We can choose denial- active denial, and other times our brain chooses it for us until we can work through deeper emotions.

The part that I am struggling with recently is accepting delay. To be honest, I feel angry at all the things that have been thrown at us as a young married couple and a young family. I'm angry because it has screwed up my plans. I'm angry because I didn't choose how all the stress and exposure to toxic behavior would affect my mind, body and spirit. It takes time to heal a brain, a spirit and a body. I get angry at how slow the process is at times, and I get angry at the set backs. Obviously, my plan for expanding our family will be put on hold. I don't know for how long, but I'm upset about it.  I have to allow my body to heal. I don't necessarily have control over how my hormones and emotions will respond to that physiological change, but I am most certainly doing what I can to get them where they should be. And, it makes sense to me that I ought to be emotionally healthy before adding to our family.  That needs to be my first priority.

When we get to acceptance there is peace. When I accept my reality for what it is, I can then come up with a game plan for how to move forward. Or sometimes I just need to wait and spend time with God because there is truly nothing I can do and I need to be protected from my desire to rush ahead before my time.  I have to let go of the immediate wants.  Do I like this? No. Jesus isn't asking that I deny that either. But when I can accept where I'm at and all that has taken place that has led me to this place, I can ask God to come in and show me the way through. I can ask him to comfort me and help me to bear what I cannot. I won't always be in this place, but it would help if I didn't fight myself so much in the process ; )


We find this encouragement in Hebrews 12:2-4 "Looking away (from all that will distract) to Jesus, who is the leader and the source of our faith [giving the first incentive for our belief] and is also it's finisher [bringing it to maturity and perfection. He, for the joy set before him, endured the cross, despising and ignoring it's shame, and is now seated at the right hand of God. Just think of Him who endured from sinners such grievous opposition and bitter hostility against Himself, so that you may not grow weary or exhausted, losing heart and relaxing and fainting in your minds. You have not yet struggled and fought agonizingly against sin, nor have you resisted and withstood to the point of pouring out your own blood." I think it's important to note that Jesus overcame the world- there isn't really much in our lives that WITH him, we cannot also overcome.

Harder than I thought.

Over the past few months, it has felt like I've been standing on the edge of a cliff, battered by waves. Just as one recedes, another comes lashing up, reaching out to pull me under. I wonder, "when will I get to breathe? When will the storm end? When will the waves stop crashing up against my life?" and in my very weakest moments- "what have I done to deserve this?" I don't have the answer to any of those questions. Though I feel tired and weak, I have a deep seated peace that allows me to take a moment- whenever I can- to rest. I know God isn't trying to teach me some cosmic lesson, but rather He is showing me the value and safety of His presence- abiding in Him and finding my protection under the shadow of his wings. He is giving me the treasures of darkness- riches stored in secret places. (Isaiah 45:3).

To be real- the miscarriage hit me harder than I thought it would. It's been six weeks since the miscarriage and Ive stopped counting how far along I would be at this point. It was too painful. It's one thing to have suffered loss and have everyone know that you suffered loss- say, the death of a parent, or something more obvious. It's quite another to suffer silently. And I begin to wonder, why don't more people talk about miscarriage? What is so taboo and inappropriate about talking about the significant loss of the hopes and dreams of this would-be child/children?

My close friends all knew, but no one else has a clue. The woman at church who asked me "is that a baby bump I see??!" a few weeks ago almost got slugged in the throat...salt on an open wound. How could she know what I had just lost? She couldn't...And more importantly- how could she NOT know how inappropriate of a question that is? Gah. All those pregnancy announcements, with due dates the same as mine, or people asking when we are going to have more kids...I brace myself for impact. I didn't expect to hurt so much, but at the most random times, in the most random of places, Im reminded of what I'm no longer carrying inside of me. No more beating heart. No more growing baby.  The feeling after looking at the ultrasound screen after they confirmed I had passed all the "tissue". Every HCG test for weeks after the loss further confirming that I was less pregnant than the week before.  And once again, my plans for the future had to change. I know that I had looked at this pregnancy as the beginning of a new season, and I had looked forward to it immensely. The last few years have been so hard- I kind of just wanted something easy and a fresh start to help me redefine things a bit and continue moving forward instead of looking backwards.  Ugh. And then the questions..."will I suffer this loss again? Can I bear it if so?"...I know that I don't hold my future, God does. But there's a part of me that knows he doesn't always give us easy and that scares me a bit- how much will He allow me to endure?

And then there is my crazy, cookoo family. It seems that just when I stop thinking about them, making progress in my healing or what have you- one of them reaches out to contact me in not so pleasant ways and I'm sent a few steps in the process. I wonder if it will ever really get easier. I wonder if it won't hurt so much to see that I am no longer a part of their lives.  If it will be less painful to answer the questions people ask out of lack of knowledge or understanding of the reality of my situation "So, how's your mom?" When I respond "I don't really know" they look surprised and confused and I'm most certain there is some kind of judgment crossing their minds. It's just as uncomfortable for me to answer as it is for them to hear my answer.

I'm still working through my emotions. I'm deeply saddened at the loss of relationship with my family- I'm sad at what it's done to me, and I grieve what I have lost. But at the same time, something bazaar and good is happening- I'm finding who I really am: who God made me to be before the world and my family tried to mold me in their image. I'm finding out who I was made to be before I was rejected for not playing the role of savior and victim, for not continuing to lay myself out as the whipping boy so that my family wouldn't  have to face their own problems, consequences and pain.  I've been forced to create a life that is not just me surviving on a day-to-day basis, but one in which I, and subsequently my little family, are thriving. To be honest- I'm liking what I see. I'm freer than I've ever been, even though Im currently still experiencing emotional pain. I am finding out that there is so much more to life than I ever thought possible, and my daily pains and problems have strongly encouraged me to look for the joy in every day, celebrating the little things in life- because bad things are bound to happen. It is still a process of turning FROM that which I've lost, TOWARD that which I'm meant to receive.

Isaiah 54:11-17"O you afflicted one,Tossed with tempest, and not comforted,Behold, I will lay your stones with colorful gems,And lay your foundations with sapphires. I will make your pinnacles of rubies,Your gates of crystal,And all your walls of precious stones.All your children shall be taught by the Lord, And great shall be the peace of your children. In righteousness you shall be established. You shall be far from oppression, for you shall not fear; And from terror, for it shall not come near you. Indeed they shall surely assemble, but not because of Me. Whoever assembles against you shall fall for your sake.16 “Behold, I have created the blacksmith Who blows the coals in the fire, Who brings forth an instrument for his work; And I have created the spoiler to destroy.No weapon formed against you shall prosper, And every tongue which rises against you in judgment You shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, And their righteousness is from Me,” Says the Lord.'"

Merry Christmas and a Miscarriage

Well, this holiday season has proven to be much different than years before. Mostly in good ways, but also in some painful and hard ways.

This is the first Christmas without my family. One by one I've had to set limits on individuals within my family. It has been a very painful, difficult process filled with many difficult decisions,  but has proven to help me heal and grow.

**There is going to be some graphic description in the following text- if you don't want to read it, please consider yourself warned**

About 2 weeks ago, we went in for a follow up ultrasound to check on the health of the twins. I was still in unbelief that there were two growing babies in there, but was completely unprepared that neither would have a heartbeat at the most recent ultrasound. It was a horribly sad day.  Blah. I hope to never experience that again.

Then began the wait to miscarry. My naturopath had given me some homeopathic drops to help with the process, but even with that it was a week and 5 days after I had learned that neither baby was living that I miscarried. For some reason, I had only anticipated heavy bleeding- not a birth experience. Boy was I in for a surprise!

My husband had gone to his final writing class for the quarter, and I began heavy cramping that was the equivalent of contractions pain wise. About an hour after they started, they became more frequent and incredibly painful. I called him and told him he needed to come home and take care of our toddler as the pain was barely tolerable at that point. When he got home, I came upstairs to get more comfortable and the cramping got worse. I coughed, and felt a large gush of fluid. I anticipated blood, or tissue or something but it appears that it was my water that broke, along with some tissue that appeared to be the amniotic sac. It was a large clot, and after I passed that the cramping subsided, but I continued to bleed heavily. I was able to relax and watch a movie. I thought the worst was over, but just a few hours later I started having very painful contractions again, and went upstairs for some reason. I went to brace myself and ended up collapsing on the floor from the pain. I just sat there and wept. It was so painful! I couldn't even yell for my husband, so I went to text him…but apparently he didn't have his phone on and it was on silent.

Somehow, I made it to the bathroom, and when I sat down, I felt another large gush and felt something passing from my body- it felt very large. I looked and while I didn't see the babies, it appeared the be the rest of my placenta and lining, etc, along with whatever else was inside of it. I was in so much pain that I was shaking and felt like vomiting, so I didn't get to take a good look and see if the babies were in there. After that, the pain subsided, but I was still bleeding heavily and we decided to go in an get checked out. Because of the amount of blood, they sent me to the ER where they planned to do a D&C to get any remaining tissue and to stop the bleeding. But by the time they admitted me and sent me up for ultrasound, the bleeding had almost completely stopped- Praise God. I am truly grateful for that! The ultrasound showed that the miscarriage was almost complete, with just some endometrium that needed to come out, which would likely be just like a period over the next few days.

As I was miscarrying, I wasn't really processing my emotions- I was in the zone, just like I was during labor with my daughter. The next day, however, it hit me that I was no longer pregnant, and the babies I was carrying (albeit just for a moment, it seems), were no longer. All the hope I had already invested in this pregnancy was now gone. The pictures I had ordered as announcements would now have to be thrown away. The weight I had gained was no longer excusable. Blah. It just sucked. I would wake up in the middle of the night crying. I felt guilty that I flushed them down the toilet and didn't get to give them a proper goodbye. I know that sounds crazy, but there is something maternal that kicked in from the moment I knew I was pregnant, and I wanted these two little lives to know that I loved them, even though I never got to hold them.

I am not devastated. I will cry my tears freely because it hurts and I am sad. But I also don't think this is the end for us.  I know that we will most likely go on to have at least one more healthy pregnancy- although that's not entirely something I can control. I am not hopeless.

While this whole experience was a nightmare, I noticed that how I view emotions and how I process them has drastically changed over the last year. And to me, that is reason to celebrate. I came from a place where I did not process- I stuffed my emotions. I didn't allow myself to feel anger, much less tell God that I was angry, or sad, or hurt. But this time, I knew I needed the practice, and instead of hiding from God, I ran to him just as I was. Hurt, angry, sad, and scared. It was uncomfortable, but I didn't pretend I was anything else for the sake or fear of his holiness and goodness because He became fully human for me, and I am fully accepted as human with him. 

And I realized something- when I come in whatever state I am- I always leave changed because I am able to receive from Him all of his goodness, compassion, love, comfort, mercy, kindness, and understanding. My perspective has done a 180 in the sense that now I come to God expecting to receive from him and have all my needs met. I don't come to perform, or only show him my good, shiny, and perfect parts. I come knowing that I am completely accepted. That in His eyes, I am not a wanderer who is lost, but a child who is home, welcome and complete in Him (as imperfect as I am.) This is a testimony of the complete and utter goodness of God to HEAL and RESTORE my life.

I will leave you with this verse, and I pray that in the coming weeks and months, that God would reveal himself more and more as a great high priest who is able and completely willing to sympathize with our every need, and also as the ONE who will graciously pour out His kindness and mercy in our time of need.

Hebrews 4:15-16  For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. 16 Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need."