It’s Tuesday once again!
I have come to love dearly the day after a birthday. The new found freedom of a new age. Two silly numbers. These two numbers can tell us a lot about each other. Are we young, or are we old? Are we wise, or do we have a lot to learn? Are you full of stories and experience, or are you just starting your journey?
I am fond of my two numbers, and I grow more fond of them each passing year.
Here’s a small recap of my last two numbers and the one I am just encountering:
Age 25 9/9/12
I started that year recovering from a fairly in depth surgery. (to read more about that click here)
we got good news, and we got bad news.
I got engaged to my favorite person. (YAY)
I met a new doctor.
we did some tests. I got more bad news. (to read more about that click here)
we saw my favorite singer in Concert.
I got a promotion.
we began to accept our future.
we got Married. Best Day of My Life.
we went on a fantastic honeymoon!
Came home, got settled into our new home.
A life of joy and bliss.
7/24/13- I lost a baby at (*only*) 6 weeks. Tubal Pregnancy.
Age 26 9/9/13
I start this year with a flu/cold
Still, slightly, recovering from a surgery due to the Tubal Pregnancy.
Happily Married to an amazing man.
Filled to overflowing with gratitude and utmost praise, honor, and thankfulness for my circumstances.
I’ve been debating when and how I would write part three of my infertility posts. I wrote, and rewrote my story trying to decide what I could share, how I could write to really capture my thoughts. Telling myself it was worth it. Telling myself it was healing for me.
That was a lie.
Writing about my deepest darkest secret in me isn’t what I imagined it would be. It wasn’t healing. It isn’t healing. I realized that the only healing that could be done was going to be done by my Father. The one who created my inmost being. The giver and keeper of life and salvation. Only He provides healing.
I wanted to write a tale telling of wholeness and hope and a shiny bright future. I quickly realized that it was my facade. I wanted a story that I could hide behind, and put on my face, and let the world know that I was just fine.
I wanted a resolution, and I wanted reasons and explanations. I have quickly realized that some times my Father doesn’t give those to me, and that is okay….
Here is what I have learned:
The foundation of life is strictly God’s love. There has never been nor will be any pre-qualifying characteristics that must be met in order to receive this love (thank you Jesus). This love is based off the mystery of the Trinity. The mystery of a relational God who, had risen from death to life and now lives in us, chooses to create redeem and/or sustain creation. Regardless if we are capable of reciprocating.
Because of this, I can know for certain a baby, at any stage, is a person. Not based on biological development but because I have chosen to believe that he/she is loved by the foundation of life, of reality. Loved deeply by the one who created love, who is love, and loved by the one who grants love. Any lost little one is deeply and profoundly loved by God; a personal, real God.
This is what’s healing for me:
Knowing full well that I can define my loss. That this one was called by name by Him who gave life. That this little one was profoundly loved by something bigger than me. That is what heals me. Day after day. Some days I can feel it with everything in me and that I am not a slave to this burden. Some days I forget far too easy. Some days I just don’t care what the truth is, I will have my pity party and I will choose darkness over light. Am I proud of that? Certainly not. I will admit that not every second of my thoughts, emotions, or attitude properly reflected Jesus. I struggled immensely with the idea that I may never have children. I struggled immensely that Gods plans were surely, infact, better than mine. However, I am human, and surrendering a battle over and over day after day minute after minute until you find yourself on the other side is quite the task.
“What is found in God, is never lost. What is found in God is Never Truly Lost.”
– What Was Lost, a Christian Journey Through Miscarriage
by: Elise Erickson Barrett
You may have noticed that I have added in *only* 6 weeks… I am not a professional, and I am not here to tell anyone how to process. However, for many days, many weeks I referred to my loss as ONLY 6 weeks. I constantly downplayed my grief acting as if 6 weeks isn’t enough time to become attached to anything. I fully own up to my discredit to myself. However, if I had the chance to have a ‘do over’ I would remind myself to claim those 6 weeks as a victory. To claim those priceless 6 weeks of symptoms and aches and excitement and nerves when I told someone the joyful news. I would tell myself to Celebrate those 6 weeks. Own it.
I fully recommend to anyone who faces a circumstance where they preface their title, or claim with an *ONLY* (only 6 weeks, only a few months, only…) or you are/ it was *JUST* a (house wife, stay at home mom, student) that you own it. Claim that fame, and give all the Glory back to Him who knows how many boogies you wiped, how many times you’ve swept the floor, burnt dinner, cried for months, days, or years. Give the Glory back to Him who breathed life into that belly of yours for 9 fulls months or 4 days! Give the Glory back to Him who provides you to be home to wipe those boogies, butts, and counter tops! He knows and wants to celebrate it with you. Regardless of how much time you were given, whether its years or minutes, a wife title, a student title, or a transition time…. Celebrate who you are right this moment. Because He who called you, knows you full well. Because He who called you placed you in that title, in that circumstance. He who called you, Calls you by name.
Someday I might spill out all the tiny details I planned on sharing, the amount of blood work, the ultrasound, and phone calls. I could tell you the countless hours of tears, the confusion, the actual physical pain. I might even splurge on details about how we chose to tell a few people, and later I came to regret telling anyone at all. Now, certainly now, I am sure that I am meant to tell my story. I am meant to share my hurt, express my pain, expose my heart. The purpose, I am not aware of yet. But God has promised us, me, that our sufferings are not in vain. They are always for our Good and His Glory. Although I don’t believe at times that this is for my good, I choose to trust that it is for my good and part of his promise of Refinement, Restoration, and depending on His sufficiency.
So, what I had planned for Part III, it doesn’t apply. I don’t have a resolution, or a closing statement of wholeness, or healing or even a final outcome. I couldn’t even tell you what’s next, how our story is starting to unfold. It is a divine mystery and one that my husband and I eagerly pursue. A divine situation that has brought me closer to my husband, a divine situation that was meant to destroy me, but instead brought me back to my knees in front of my Father, waiting, asking to be filled up again. I can tell you that without a doubt, I am on one of the most amazing journey’s a girl could ask for. And, I can tell you, this wont be the first time you hear about it! I have not been called to be silent about the greatness and goodness of our God.