Love endures all things

 Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful, it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love endures all things. Love endures all things.

So often when a loved one dies, we feel like the love we shared with them has died, too. While death may take a life it cannot take a relationship and it cannot take the love that was shared in that relationship because love endures all things.

For me this enduring love came in the form of a child who died before I got the chance to meet her. Though I never got to experience her love, I got to experience a mother’s love for the very first time because of her. And though it would be easier to forget, I choose to remember. I choose to remember the love I first felt for my child. I choose to let my love for her give me strength as I parent my living child. I choose to allow my love for her to inspire me to comfort others. I choose to allow my love for her to give me courage as I remember that if I could survive her death I can survive anything. I choose to allow the lessons her loss taught me to bring joy amidst my grief.

 Death may leave a permanent mark on a life, but the mark that love leaves is more powerful still. The mark that love leaves imparts us with gifts that death cannot take from us. Gifts that we can hold on to even after we cannot hold on to our loved one.

Love imparts us with memories that are ours to keep as long as we live, memories that even death can’t steal from us. I want to give you a moment right now to pause, in silence, with your eyes closed to think of a favorite memory of your loved one; a special day, a momentous occasion, a favorite trip together, a time when you just laughed together. Go ahead and close your eyes and allow yourself to live that moment. Feel free to open your eyes. Remembering can be hard, painful, even, but when we remember we are honoring the mark that love has left on us. We are honoring the pieces of our loved one that they have left with us even in their death. Memories and remembering allow love to endure all things.

Love also imparts strength on us. Do you remember a moment of defeat in your life, a moment where you didn't think you could go on, a moment when you felt like everyone else had knocked you down, but then there was your person, standing beside you, strengthening and empowering you to get up from anything that had knocked you down. Maybe you feel like that strength and that love have been stolen from you.

 You probably have had some moments since your loved one died that you felt your weakest. Even still, in those moments of defeat and discouragement, those moments when you felt the weakest, remember the love your person gave you in life and let that be your strength. Let that love continue to give you strength even now. Just as love can endure all things, the strength our person gave us can endure all things.

Love inspires us, doesn’t it? Love inspires us to try new things, to feel new things, to believe new things. Maybe it was a parent who inspired you to try out for that team, or take that job, or go to college. Maybe it was a spouse who inspired new feelings deep inside of you. Maybe it was a child who inspired you to believe the unbelievable or inspired you to keep going when you weren't sure you could. Maybe it was a sibling or friend who inspired you to believe in yourself. Do you feel like that inspiration is gone now? Or do you still feel its spark flickering somewhere deep inside, like hot embers just waiting for a warm breath to blow over and reignite them? Just as love can endure all things, the inspiration that love lights in us can also endure all things.

Love imparts courage on us and even death can’t steal courage from us. the courage we were given by our loved one to stand in the face of adversity, to continue to fight when we didn’t feel like we could keep fighting, to achieve a dream that seemed impossible, to reach that goal

 that felt so out of reach. All of these things we were able to overcome because of the love of our person continue to be our courageous accomplishments even in their absence. And because of the love that they gave us in life, we can continue to overcome any obstacle with courage and achieve any dream with courage. The courage our loved one gave us can endure all things.

Love imparts joy on us, joy may be an emotion you don’t experience much or one you don’t feel like you may ever experience again. Can joy and grief even co-exist? They can and they do, joy and grief exist almost as a dance. Sometimes the dance is awkward and clumsy, other times it can be graceful and beautiful. Sometimes Joy is leading the dance, other times grief takes the lead, and occasionally neither partner knows the dance. sometimes the dance leaves us feeling energized other times it leaves us with an ache just as new dance shoes that weren’t properly broken in. And like any dance, the dance of grief and joy can take time to learn, but it’s not an impossible dance to learn. And as you continue to let your person’s love give you courage and strength, as you hold on to the memories that you created in love your heart will continue to learn the dance of joy and grief. The dance will become less awkward, the dance will become less painful, and you will find more often that joy is the leading partner.

Justice

Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up. He said: “In a certain town there was a judge who neither feared God nor cared what people thought. And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, ‘Grant me justice against my adversary.’

 “For some time he refused. But finally he said to himself, ‘Even though I don’t fear God or care what people think, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually come and attack me!’”

 And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?”

Luke 18:1-8

This parable was shared at church on Sunday during a sermon on praying "in your time, in your way God," and I walked away a little broken and a little confused, wrestling with this notion of justice. I read the passage about those who cry out to God night and day and was immediately transported back to the week of July 11th, 2010, when I cried out night and day for days for the life of my baby, and my heart cries out "where was my justice?" In the deepest, darkest places of my soul I wanted to understand this justice and I couldn't. I wanted to comprehend the whats and the whys, where my story and my baby fit into this concept of justice, and I couldn't. I wanted to understand what justice means to a God whose son died on the cross to pardon my sins when I am so undeserving, yet allows such tragedy to fall through His hands and into my heart, but I couldn't. So I sat with my journal, and I sat with my feelings, and I sat with my God and I cried, in my misunderstanding and in my confusion, I cried for myself and I cried for my child and I cried for (what felt like) my injustice. And maybe I cried a little because I may never understand, because there is a part of my Abba's heart that I can't possibly comprehend, and maybe I cried because after all of these years I'm not done grieving and I might not be done asking questions. And I kept asking questions:

What do I know of justice?

What do I understand of your ways?

How can I comprehend your actions? 

How can I grasp your decisions?

How can I possibly understand why you do what you do?

But in your time God and in your way 

I will leave my questions at your feet.

Because you have called me deeper than my own understanding,

Deeper than my own control.

Your Holiday Bill of Rights

The holidays can be hard, especially if there is a child, or anyone really, missing from the picture, so here is your bill of rights for a healthy holiday season. Use these rights to put together a plan of how you will face this difficult time of year for the grieving. I cannot take credit for creating these "rights," it was done for my work newsletter, so I have altered a few to fit the needs of those grieving the loss of their babes through miscarriage or stillbirth.

1) you have the right to take care of yourself: to eat right, exercise regularly, and get enough rest.

2) you have the right to have mixed emotions: happy, sad, frustrated, angry, guilty, afraid, and thankful.

3) you have the right to cry when you are sad, smile when you are happy, and not feel guilty about either.

4) you have the right to say no to any holiday activities- to pace yourself differently. You also have the right to change your mind about a previous commitment.

5) you have the right to share your feelings, or not. You also have the right to choose who you share your feelings with and who you don’t.

6) you have the right to solitude: for planning, thinking, reflection, introspection, prayer, and relaxation.

7) you have the right to remember your baby in a meaningful way and incorporate him/her into your holiday plans and traditions.

8) you have the right to ask for help from friends, family, your church, or other group.

9) you have the right to follow old traditions or make up new ways of celebrating the holidays.

I hope this can help you alleviate a little stress and heart ache during the holidays!

The Beginning

The other day I felt rather sabotaged by my grief, I found myself amidst many thoughts I hadn't entertained for a long time, and even some new thoughts that just brought on an overwhelming sadness. Over the summer I began a career as a hospice nurse, my morning started with thoughts of joy at the course my life was taking, supporting grieving families both in my job and in a support group for miscarriage and still birth. I thought back to that tiny babe that I carried for seven weeks, how despite a short life she was able to shape so much of who I am. I thought of the way that her untimely and unexpected death by miscarriage taught me to grieve and support others in grief. I thought of how one of the most devastating events in my life had become one of the most important. I thought of the way that God used a tragic event to show how powerfully He can bring beauty from ashes. Very quickly, though, the peace I was feeling was snatched away, I became sad, I began to cry, I was filled with this grief over questions that I will probably never have the answers to, the one in the forefront of my mind "did she feel scared during her death?" In Hospice we have a policy that no one dies alone, and I began to think of this tiny babe inside of me who had no one to hold her hand as she died, no one to whisper words of comfort in her ear. As I allowed my heart to be consumed with the hopelessness of those thoughts, I was reminded by my Saviour, by Sparrow's Saviour, that she wasn't alone when she died, I was holding her, as I did every second of her life. I was also reminded that there was no fear in her death, I imagined her very simply falling to sleep and awakening in the glorious presence of her Heavenly Father, of her creator, of the one who ordained her very being and life. And I knew that there was no thick, overwhelming silence, that even though I couldn't whisper words of comfort, that she awoke to the songs of centuries of believers who had entered heaven's gates before her. As sad as I felt, and as much as I longed to hold that little girl, I knew that the hopelessness that I was feeling was a lie, that her death wasn't the end, it wasn't the end for her and it wasn't the end for me. For Sparrow, it was the beginning of an eternity spent in the presence of the one who held her entire life in His hands, and for me it was the beginning of a career, or rather a life, dedicated to holding the hands and hearts of the grieving.

It's going to be okay

Today I heard a song that always takes me back to the week that I was waiting for the results of my HcG (to confirm or deny my miscarriage). The chorus has words that I imagined saying to the life growing inside of me; "Be strong in the Lord and, never give up hope. You're gonna do great things, I already know. God's got his hand on you so don't live life in fear, forgive and forget, but don't forget why you're here. Take your time and pray. These are the words I would say." As I sang along to these lyrics I had a peace that surpassed all understanding and I heard God whisper "it's going to be okay," and I felt like things were going to be okay. Unfortunately I received a call days later that everything was not okay, and I had even less understanding of that strange peace I felt days earlier. I counted it as a fluke, a desperate mother's final hope, even delusion because I wasn't okay, things weren't okay. It wasn't until today that I actually understood that peace, that I understood why God whispered those words "It's going to be okay." Four years ago it wasn't okay, I wasn't okay, and I couldn't see any way that things would be okay, but as I look back over those four years I can say that I am okay now. Don't get me wrong, not a day goes by that I don't think about my baby and wonder about life with her, but I can also look back and see the good in her very short life and death. I can look back over the last four years and see my own personal growth as a mom, as a Christian, as a nurse, and as a person in general. I can look back over the last four years and see the lives I have been able to speak into. I can look back over the last four years and see the compassion and understanding that I have gained for others. I can look back over the last four years and see the impact that one life, even one that never was, can have on others and the Kingdom of God. I can look back over the last four years and see that I am okay, and I know that the peace I was given on that day four years ago surpassed my understanding, but it did not surpass the understanding of my God who knew, even then, that it was going to be okay. I can look back over the last four years and see that God was faithful in fulfilling the promise that "it's going to be okay."

The tapestry of joy & grief

There is a strangeness about a day that should be a birthday, but isn’t; about a day that was the anticipation of a birth, but passed full of nothing more than heartache and grief; about a day that was meant for someone special, but that someone isn’t there. For the last three years this day has come and gone for me, and it is coming again, and it will go again, and there is a friction inside of me, a rubbing of grief and celebration, of sadness and joy, of sorrow and thankfulness. March sixth marks the day that I should have met my first child, that day never came for me and while that grieves me, I can't resist celebrating; celebrating that she existed, no matter how short that time was, celebrating the impact that she had on my life, and celebrating who I am because of her life and loss. Even so, on the other side of that celebration, comes the strangeness and the friction, the sadness of not having her here against the joy of knowing heaven is her home, of wondering what life and her birthday would be like had she been born that March day against the joy of knowing that her life has only known the perfection of living with her Heavenly Father, and of really not knowing what that day should look like. Should the day be solemn? should it be joyous? Do I let it pass like any other day? Do I mark it with something special? I am never quite sure what it "should" look like because I'm not sure there is an answer, I'm not sure someone can tell you how to spend the anniversary of the due date of your baby that didn't make it to her due date. Is it any wonder that the mother's heart feels so adrift in grief?  Getting lost under this tapestry that has been woven of grief and joy, never really knowing what you should do yet trying to follow the direction of a heart that has been broken. Ultimately that's what it comes down to, though, following your heart, whether that heart is in a million pieces, those pieces have been picked up, are in the process of being repaired, or have been put back together with a baby sized hole left in it. So as March sixth comes and March sixth goes for the third year in a row, I will rest in the tapestry that has been woven of my grief and joy and I will celebrate the life I carried even if that life isn't here to celebrate with me.

The most wonderful time of the year, or is it?

Last Monday I talked with several parents who are facing Christmas after the death of a child, the last few weeks I can't stop thinking about my Omi (grandma) who is facing her first Christmas without her eldest son, this weekend a young lady that I went to high school with lost her life after a long battle, days ago my husband's coworker suddenly died, today I walked past the emergency department at the hospital where my surgery center is located and heard the wail of a mother who just found out that her child died, my heart is heavy. I keep hearing songs touting this as the most wonderful time of the year, but I can't help thinking that for many it isn't. For many this season brings sadness, pain even, they can't find it in themselves to celebrate every snowflake and jingle bell, in fact some can barely find it in themselves to face the next day full of carols and shiny balls. There are many out there who are just praying that they can make it through this season with their heart and sanity intact, because there is only so much that egg nog and Christmas cookies can fix. When you look around your community or family gathering over the coming days, will you look past the tinsel and presents to find the broken hearts? Will you offer a hug, smile, card, greeting, listening ear, or compassion to someone who can't find the cheer in the season? Will you be the light that they can't see on their own?

[don't] Lean on me

I've long felt that it is important to turn to others who have been in your shoes when it comes to miscarriage, stillbirth, or really any death; that can be a support group, online message board, counselor, or even just a friend or family member who understands and can support you. Many times people look to their spouse for support, it seems logical because you love each other and are facing the same tragedy, unfortunately your spouse is rarely a strong source of support as they, too, are grieving. When you are both grieving, when you are both falling apart, it is nearly impossible for you to carry each other through your grief, though you may look to each other for support, you may not find what you want or need. With that in mind, it isn't surprising that so many relationships and marriages fall apart following the death of a child, the inability to support and comfort each other in grief becomes a major source of contention and drives a wedge in the relationship, which puts far too many relationships on the rocks or, unfortunately, ends them. While it is incredibly important for couples to keep the lines of communication open following the death of a child, it is also important that they don't place unrealistic expectations on each other, expectations that are far too high to place on a person who is grieving and feeling as if they can barely hold their own life together. It is important that couples give each other compassion and understanding, that they give each other grace and time, that they realize they will grieve differently, and will experience different emotions at different times. There will be good days and there will be bad days, and unfortunately you and your partner may not experience those days on the same day, which is why it is crucial to establish a support system to turn to when those days don't line up, when you and your partner can't seem to hold  your own selves together, let alone hold each other up. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, there are many resources for grieving parents, like Facebook groups, online message boards, support groups, grief counselors, clergymen, even friends or family who have been in your shoes, and on the days that you feel lost and alone, when you feel like you couldn't possibly muster the energy to move forward while carrying your partner, you will have the comfort of knowing that there is SOMEONE out there who can help carry you through.

Overwhelmed

I have heard this saying many times, in fact my mom cross stitched it for me on a small picture so I see it daily, but today I am overwhelmingly struck by its truth. When my son, MJ, was born and opened his eyes, he saw nurses, a doctor, flashing lights, machines, his daddy, and eventually me, his mommy; the world around him felt cold I'm sure; without the buffer of my body I can imagine this new place he entered seemed loud and disruptive; and considering the mode of his entrance into this world I'm sure the whole experience seemed quite cruel. On the other hand, when my angel, Sparrow, first opened her eyes she got to behold Jesus, she saw streets of pure gold, gates of pearl, she looked upon a literal paradise, she felt warmth, and heard the voices of generations of worshippers singing to their Mighty King; there was no cruelty in this birth, in entering this new world, there was only peace and perfection. My heart feels great joy and peace at this thought, today I am overwhelmingly struck by this truth!

Mother's Day

As I near my third Mother's Day (one without a child), I still find myself feeling a little bit of dread as Sunday approaches; As thankful as I am to be able to celebrate with my rainbow baby, there is still part of me that aches to celebrate with two children. That slight dread has me thinking back to my first Mother's Day after my miscarriage, the Mother's Day that I knew I couldn't bear to see the other moms at church receive flowers, the Mother's Day I knew I couldn't hear "Happy Mother's Day" due to my noticeable belly, but not for the baby I had lost, the Mother's Day where I literally had to get out of town to stay sane and protect my own heart. Yes! You read that right, my hubby literally took me out of town for the weekend to get away from it all because I wasn't sure I could handle it, and if you need to do the same, that is OKAY! But maybe heading to a big city for the weekend isn't a possibility for you, maybe you just stay home, pig out, watch movies, and just be with your significant other; maybe you spend the day in a secluded park or beach; maybe you spend the weekend camping; maybe you plan a day with those who you know will be understanding of what you are feeling; maybe you plan a celebration with other baby loss Mamma's; maybe you spend the day planting a memorial garden for your lost child; maybe you spend the day doing something or anything special in memory of your angel. Mother's Day will no doubt be painful, but it is okay to take steps to guard your own heart, to know the limits of what you can emotionally handle that day and be firm in that, and most importantly it is okay to cry.

 And to those of you who know someone who has lost a child, one of those moms who experience pain on Mother's Day instead of a joyful celebrations of motherhood, acknowledge her and her child; Send a card, a special note, flowers, or even a memorial gift in honor of her baby (my hubby bought me a ring with our babes name on it, and that is one of my most precious gifts). Holidays are incredibly painful, and Mother's Day can be one of the worst after the loss of her child, your thoughtfulness in remembering your loved one will mean the world to her and ease some of the pain she is inevitably feeling.

The Battle

While I have been pretty open discussing my grief and many painful aspects of my personal journey to healing, there is one area I am very reluctant to share, I have always feared looking weak or crazy, but I approached the point where keeping this struggle a secret became quite detrimental. When I took the step in sharing I found that not only did I receive the support I needed, but that I wasn't alone in my struggle, that I wasn't alone in my depression. The earliest I remember this battle was high school, I noticed a pattern with the changing seasons, gave myself the diagnosis of "Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)," went to the tanning bed a few times a week and found that the boost in vitamin D proved to be helpful. As time went on, and the stressors in my life become more intense, I began to use bulimia as a means of trying to gain some sort of control, to have some sort of physical release to the emotions I didn't always feel I could handle. When my husband (fiance at the time) returned from Iraq we started premarital counseling, which turned out to be more intensive than either of us imagined, we dealt with my eating disorder during a few sessions, and I felt empowered, but as the seasons began to change again, I found myself in the same place I was every winter. When I found out I was pregnant for the first time, that was the day I swore off my eating disorder, knowing I had a higher reason for keeping myself healthy. While I have not forced myself to throw up for several years, know that it is a constant struggle, just like an alcoholic has triggers, so does a person with an eating disorder and it is a conscience effort to stay away from the places and things I know I cannot handle. After I miscarried our first baby, I was grieving and the depression was natural, and after I had our first child, I expected Post Partum Depression (PPD), but as my son got older and the depression intensified I began to think that maybe things weren't normal anymore. I found myself with this constant and underlying rage, I found myself angry at the littlest things, I found myself blowing up at my son and husband for things that weren't important or intentional, I felt sad, and anxious, and dare I say a little hopeless, I felt isolated and unconnected to the people around me. I began to hate who I was, I saw this person spiraling out of control, but didn't feel like I had the power to stop her, I longed to have peace in my heart and in my life, but I just didn't know how to get it. It wasn't until I reached out to a few friends for prayer, that I got what I needed, I received words of comfort, assuring me that I wasn't alone and that I didn't need to fight this battle alone. I also received the encouragement I needed to talk to my doctor, something I had said I was going to do for years, and just never did because I was too embarrassed. As a nurse I see people on antidepressants all of the time, I hand them out almost daily, but the thought of being on one myself seemed like a soft option to me, but I have to say taking that first step in asking my doctor about them was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. In the doctor's office I was comforted by the nurse who shared that she battled the same thing, and the doctor who assured me that I wasn't alone that he sees this frequently. It has been a month and a half now that I have been taking medication for my depression and while my doctor told me I wouldn't see much of a change, I have! I feel calmer, I am the peaceful mom that I want to be, I am an easier wife to live with (at least I think so!!); I truly believe it is the combination of reaching out for help, receiving support, and the medication. I tell you all of this not because I want to, in fact I hate being this transparent, I tell you all of this because if I am not transparent, how will others ever know that they aren't alone? Many Christian's don't talk about depression because there is the stigma that if you have enough faith you won't be depressed, that if you have the joy of Christ in your life you won't feel depressed, that if you are living the righteous life you won't feel depressed, but this isn't true, and I want other Christians to know this isn't the truth and it is okay to admit that you are depressed. I struggled for so many years by myself, fighting a battle I wasn't equipped for, and I don't want others to think they have to do the same. I want you to know that whether it is SAD or PPD or grief or anxiety or depression that lasts all year long, YOU ARE NOT ALONE! Their are others fighting the same battles, others who are lost in the struggle, others who hate who they are, others who don't know how to stop the rage, others who don't know how to control the blow ups, others who don't know how to handle the anxiety, others who don't know how to rise from the crippling sadness, others who don't know why they are feeling crippling sadness. If you have read this and you understand all too well the things I am saying, please don't do what I did, please don't waste another moment trying to handle the depression on your own; find a friend, family member, pastor, counselor, or doctor (heck e-mail me if you need to) and tell them you need help, tell them you don't have the strength to fight one more day on your own, it might be the hardest thing you do, but you will never be sorry that you did

Winter, or Spring, or Winter...

The flip flopping between the warmth of spring and the chill of winter over the last few weeks, has really been so symbolic of grief to me. The confusion of everything covered in ice, lying dormant, dreary even and within days waking up to a refreshing and renewing rain, seeing green and the signs of life. How often do we feel like this in our grief? How often do we have days where we feel as if we are walking on thin ice just waiting for it to crack and submerge us in freezing winter waters, and wake up the next day feeling as if that ice has been melted allowing us submersion in the renewing warmth of a spring soak? And then, before we know it we are standing on the dawn of a winter day covered in frost, hoping and praying that Spring will come along and bring a promise of new life. Some days the wait between Winter and Spring can be brief, and then other days that wait can often seem endless and excruciating, but no matter how long the wait is or feels we hold on to the promise that "there is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off (Proverbs 23:18)." Even on the most hopeless Winter days, when we feel numb from the cold, and disheartened by the grey around us, we can hold on to the hope of Spring, of the blooming of new life, of the sun emerging to melt the ice that has encased our hearts.

Your Hands

This was the very first song I heard after I heard the words "Your numbers went down, which does mean you had a miscarriage," after I made several phone calls to various people like my work, the Red Cross, my husband, some family, I climbed in the car and heard these words...and they couldn't have been more perfect. When the words "I have asked a thousand ways, that you would take my pain away" hit my ears I felt the weight of every prayer I felt had been left unanswered that week, the pain of my pleas for life that seemingly went nowhere, the heartache that I never imagined would enter my life, but as I listened on, hope filled that car and my heart. These lyrics went on to promise unwavering stability amidst my collapsing world, they promised a safe haven in a life that I felt had been irreparably violated, they offered a promise that no matter how bad things felt, no matter how awful they seemed that they would be set right. Life has taken me many places since I first heard these lyrics, but what has been proven true is that while God's hands may be powerful enough to shape this world, they are also gentle enough to hold me in my pain, that a God powerful enough to heal the sick and hurting, is heartbroken by my tears, that while the road may seem weary and winding, God will make my path straight and guide my every step.

Hiding from an Omniscient God

When we lose a child and the shock wears off, anger is often the next emotion, it has long been recognized as one of the steps of grief, and is completely natural. Our anger can be channeled at many individuals, but in most cases it is geared at God; suddenly, in that moment of loss, we don't understand how such a loving God could forsake us, could allow us to be hurt so irrevocably, could sit idly by while our heart is shattered. We sit and we seethe, we think of every name in the book, our mind races with angry thoughts, but we don't dare utter any of these words out loud, we don't dare let God know that we are angry with Him. Somehow we have convinced ourselves that those private, bitter thoughts are truly private, that somehow we have actually hidden our feelings from an omniscient God, we think that the God of the universe is actually being blocked from the ire we feel. We have to ask ourselves, "what do I think will happen if God knows I am mad at Him?" Do we truly believe that it is a condition beyond God's unconditional love? Do we think that we will suddenly fall from His grace? When we hold on to this anger, somehow we believe that we will be able to just move forward and leave it behind, but what happens, is the same thing that always happens when we secretly hold on to anger, it turns to bitterness, which eventually breeds contempt. When we introduce this element to our relationship with God, there is no room to do anything, but grow apart and I can assure you that this grieves God. So what is the solution? What is the resolve? How do we deal with this anger? How do we move forward in life? The answer is quite simple, tell God! Tell God that you are mad at Him! Stop pretending, stop seething in silence, stop blocking God out, and express how you feel; write it down, shut yourself in a room and scream your feelings, get down on your knees and whisper them, it doesn't matter what you do, just get the feelings out there, every last bitter and angry thought. Now, I know what you are thinking "That's blasphemous!" or "I can't say those mean things to God!" or even "I can't yell at God!" but the truth of the matter is that God already knows every angry and bitter thought you have had, He already knows that you are mad at Him, so why are you pretending to keep it to yourself? Why are you acting like God doesn't already know? Do you really think you have Him fooled? God knows how many hairs are on your head, he has counted your every day, He knows every fiber of your being, and He certainly knows when you are angry with Him. The more anger we allow into our relationship with God, the further the chasm between us becomes, and the more brokenhearted our Saviour feels. I want you to think about something; when you express and release the bitterness you are feeling there is a resolve that allows reconciliation, however, there is no hope of this resolve if we continue to harbor angry feelings, it becomes impossible for us to live in harmony with God and His will, and we have done nothing, but further our grief and God's. Next time you are angry, ask yourself "Am I really hiding anything from an Omniscient God?"

Unchanging

When things are going well, it is easy to profess that God is always God and that He is faithful and unchanging, but do we believe that when tragedy strikes? Do we believe that when our world comes crashing in? Do we believe that when the healing we beg for never comes? I can tell you personally that the day I got the phone call telling me that I had lost my first baby, I didn't believe that God was unchanging, I didn't believe that He was good, I didn't believe that He was faithful; My view of God suddenly changed into this big, cold man who didn't care what happened to me or my child, I became quite indifferent to Him. Fortunately for me, God was NOT who I thought He was, fortunately He still offered me enough grace and mercy to cover my doubts, to give me time to come back to Him, to let me rediscover exactly who He was. When tragedy strikes our life, I think it is a knee jerk reaction to blame God, to rethink who He is, to mistrust Him and His plans, but does this actually change who He is? Does this make Him a different person? No, we only perceive Him as being different, because suddenly our world has been turned upside down and we can't imagine that God could let that happen to us, that a good God would allow bad things to happen to His followers. God has made many promises to us, one of those promises is that He is unchanging (“I the Lord do not change. So you, the descendants of Jacob, are not destroyed." Malachi 3:6) and we know that He is unchanging,  because in those moments of doubt, when we question who He is, when we are convinced that He no longer covers us with His love or protects us, He is giving us more grace than we ever thought we needed, He is providing great mercy to us so that we may find our way back to Him, to that place where we do believe that He is constant and unchanging. Always hold on to the truth that in those moments when we are convinced that God has changed, He is ready to show us just how unwavering He is. 

Stand beside me and be my friend

People often ask me what they can do to support a friend or family member who has just experienced a miscarriage, they see the grief and depression and are at a loss, they want to help ease the hurt, but just aren't sure how. A miscarriage is a unique loss with many facets; it not only involves the loss of a child and of all the dreams and hopes for that child, but also the loss of a pregnancy (for me these were two very different areas of grief), so it really doesn't come as a surprise that many are puzzled as to what to do for their hurting loved one. I would like to share a list of things that you can do to come alongside your grieving friend or family member, and make her road to healing a little easier to travel.

-Be there! This seems simple, but you might start to feel awkward around your loved one, not sure what to say or how to act, and begin to pull away from the relationship, this is the most painful thing you can do at this stage in her life.

-Acknowledge her loss. You might be afraid that you will say something stupid, but saying nothing at all is even worse. You might also be afraid that you will make her feel sad by talking about her pregnancy, loss, or baby, but I can assure you she will feel better knowing you are thinking about her.

-Let her share. You might find that your loved one is experiencing a myriad of emotions and has a lot on her mind that she just needs to talk about, let her! What she shares might seem strange, or even crazy, but don't make her feel that way, I can assure that no matter how off the wall her feelings might seem they are probably pretty normal.

-Be understanding. Keep in mind that baby showers can be painful, so be understanding if she chooses not to attend a baby shower or leaves early, the same goes for holding new babies, she just might not be able to bring herself to do it, and that is okay, give her grace. If questions or eyebrows are raised, just be kind in sharing that she is healing from a loss and needs time and understanding. 

-Be practical. Your inclination may be to tell her "let me know if you need anything," but truthfully, at this point she may not know what she needs, so take her dinner, fill her freezer with easy meals, fold some laundry, wash her dishes or fill her dishwasher, sweep her floors, if she has other kids offer to babysit for a few hours, help her with the things that she may not have the drive or energy to do right now. 

-Give her a grief vacation. No, you cannot help her completely forget her grief, but you might just be able to give her a little time away from it. Spend the day with her; watch movies and pig out on junk food, treat her to a spa day with a massage, mani, pedi, and a new hairdo, pack a picnic lunch and get into nature for a hike or bike, take her out for dinner and a musical, play, or movie, or head to a nearby big city for a day of sight seeing.

-Give her a memorial gift. It can be difficult to think of a gift to give someone who has had a miscarriage, your friend may not have chosen to name her baby, and may not have even known her baby's gender, so you might be at a loss, but there are still many things you can do to memorialize her child. A few things that were done for me that meant a lot were the ring my husband gave me with the name we chose for our baby (Sparrow Liran), a Christmas ornament from my sister in law with our baby's name, a friend who planted tulips in her mom's garden in memory of our babe, a cross stitch my mom designed that said "and to think when her little eyes opened the first thing she saw was the face of Jesus," an angel figurine holding a baby that a friend gave me. Your friend might have something special she associates with her pregnancy and baby like stars, butterflies, flowers, ladybugs if you see a gift along these lines buy it, if you see something that really brings her to mind give it to her; it doesn't even have to be bought you might be an artist, or writer, or create something that will be meaningful to her.

-Remember big days. Mother's day, the day she lost her baby, and the day her baby was due will be hard days, holidays may also bring pain, so make sure you are remembering her on these days, sending a card (http://lostforwordscardline.com/) or flowers, a special gift (http://www.myforeverchild.com/), or even bringing over cupcakes will brighten a dark day.

-Remember when everyone else forgets. After a few weeks, people will begin to forget your loved one's loss, they will stop asking how she is doing, and assume that life is getting back to normal, but it's not, she still needs extra love and support. Keep the texts, e-mails, cards, and chats coming, she will need them!

This list is probably not all inclusive, you might find other ways to be there for your friend that I didn't mention (I would love for you to leave a comment about it!), there may even be things specific to your friend and the relationship that you share that will lift her spirits, do them! If your first thought is "oh, I bet she would love this," do not second guess yourself, just do it, the fact that you thought of her will mean the world to her as she is grieving.


*In my post I refer to "she," I am in no way ignoring the fact that the father will grieve and need support, many of these things might be meaningful to a man, as well, but there is no doubt that men and women grieve differently and so this post is more geared towards a grieving mom*

Existence

One of the most melancholy feelings is loving and missing a person, who by all rights, never actually existed. I have been pregnant twice, I have carried two children, I have given birth to two babies, but to all of the world one of those children has never even existed. I know many of you are thinking, "of course your baby existed," but I often think of the birth certificate, social security card, insurance forms that we had to fill out to prove that MJ existed, and it hits me in an odd way that there is none of that for Sparrow, for my first child. Her birth did not happen with big procession, there were no inked foot prints, no blood tests, no social security numbers to apply for, no records of her being outside of my medical charts which read G2P1. While I named her, love her, miss her, and am completely changed by her, her existence will never be acknowledged in a tangible way. I suspect that many of you have dwelt on these thoughts, and have probably felt the same sadness that I have . Rather than sadness, though, these thoughts should be a reminder that this world is not our home, our residence here on earth is not permanent, and that putting stake on any earthly existence is futile. There may not have been any pomp on this earth, Sparrow may have entered this world behind a closed door, amidst grief, but the day my child was born into heaven their was great rejoicing, there were hosts to welcome her, and I am sure there was more celebration over her spirit entering heaven than MJ coming into this world. While my child may not exist on this earth, she exists in eternity, the part of her that matters exists, the part of her which will spend eternity in the presence of our Lord, her soul. 

Abraham & Sarah, the original story of infertility

I grew up hearing the story of Abraham and Sarah, of their desire for children that seemed totally out of reach, eventually of the son they bore, and then of God asking for that son back as a sacrifice. It never really occurred to me, until I heard this song that Sara and Abraham's story was the original story of infertility, and then this story took on a whole new meaning. I came to realize that the desire Sarah had for children was one that was unquenchable, so much so that she sent Abraham to have a child with her servant. Even then I can only imagine the pain Sarah had to feel as Hagar's belly began to swell. The Bible tells us of an anger that grew between Sarah and Hagar, and that truthfully doesn't come as a surprise to me, Sarah spent decades desiring children, and though she suggested her husband bear a child with another woman, I am not sure she imagined the pain it would bring her,. To know that another woman was making Abraham a father and not her, to know that she wasn't the one to grow their family must have been an agonizing feeling. After we lost Sparrow, I felt quite betrayed by my body, that as a woman I was made to carry a child, and my body couldn't even accomplish that very task; did Sarah feel this way? I can imagine that she had the same feelings that I did, wondering why everyone around her could be carrying babies and having children, and she couldn't. Through all of this pain, I can only imagine the joy that came the day that Sarah and Abraham were blessed with their son Isaac. I remember finding out I was pregnant again after our loss, elation doesn't even come close to the feeling I had that day, then the day my son came into this world, and after a long wait took his first breath. It was a joy like I had never known. I can truly say that I only knew such bliss because I had known loss and desire. I know Sarah's joy was also that much deeper because she knew what it felt to truly desire a child, because she had settled into a place in life where her children did not and would not exist. I remember one night in the car, listening to the radio, feeling completely broken, and laying it all at God's feet, telling Him that it was okay if I never got pregnant again, never had another child, and I meant this; I imagine that Sarah may have made the same vow, had this same peace and so to know such a blessing as a child you thought would never be, is joy beyond any other. Then we go on to learn that God asked Abraham to sacrifice Isaac on an altar, oh what faith! To listen to God's promises that you will father nations, that your descendants will be as numerous as the sand and the stars, and then to be asked to sacrifice that, to be the very one to take your long coveted sons life, but God was faithful. Despite the moments of doubt they had, God rewarded Abraham and Sarah, He blessed them, He did what He has long promised to do, He gave them the desires of their heart.

The New Normal

After the loss of a child, whether from miscarriage, or stillbirth, or even a living child, one of the first questions is often "will I ever feel normal again?" and while that might seem like a yes or no question, it is much more complicated than that. Feeling normal again, entails going backwards, it means getting back to where you used to be, and the harsh reality is that this is impossible. You cannot go back to where you used to be, because you aren't who you used to be; loss, grief, and mourning changes you, you become a new person, with a new life. That new life contains many new things, many things that weren't a part of the old normal; it contains hurt, grief, sorrow, loss, loss of innocence, and the single most thing that will change you the most is the child who you are no longer able to carry. Each one of these things changes the core of who you are, it changes how you view the world, it changes how you relate to people, it changes how you love those close to you, it changes your level of compassion, it changes the way you think and feel, you are a new person; even if you could go back to your old normal, it wouldn't feel right, you would feel out of balance and out of place. Rather than going back to normal, you will move forward into normal, a new normal, where you learn to function in spite of the grief, where you push forward through the painful days and relish the days you can smile, where you have greater compassion for the hurting souls around you, where many old problems seem trivial and many new ones feel insurmountable, where you love a child who is a part of you, but not near you. While you can never go back to the old normal, there will come a day when you are able to get out of bed without trying, when you find yourself laughing, when the sadness doesn't cripple you, and yes there will come a day when you realize you just don't hurt as badly as you once did.

Grief is exhausting

Grief is exhausting. You spend your days asking question after question, trying to make sense of your loss, trying to understand why this has happened to you, and if that isn't tiring enough there is the business of trying to hold your life together. Chances are, you have someone in your life who is relying on you, someone you have to care for, someone who needs you to maintain some sense of normalcy, which is a daunting task in itself. Not only are you trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for those around you, but you are also trying desperately yourself to feel normal again, to escape the sadness, desperation, anger, depression, hopelessness, the void left by loss. The spectrum of emotions brought that is the grief experience can make your head spin, it's downright tiring not knowing how or what you will be feeling from day to day, even minute to minute. And the loneliness grief can bring can make you feel like throwing in the towel yourself. I'm sure on more than one occasion you have thought or said "I'm just tired," and have probably wondered to yourself if you could find any sort of rest, reprieve, a solace from your grief, and you can! Matthew 11:28-29  states "come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Do you know that there is someone out there who wants to carry the burden of your grief ? Who wants to carry you? Who wants to give you rest? Do you know that you don't have to be alone in your pain and suffering? Do you know that Christ can bring an end to the exhaustion? Not only can He carry the immense burden that is weighing you down, but He can carry you, and He wants to be the one to hold you, He is waiting to take your heavy burden, and to give you His, that is light and easy, you need only ask Him to. Grief is exhausting, don't you want to rest?