I've been working on this post for a few days now. Selah's due date was on Wednesday. That was a hard day. Remembering my pregnancy with her has been stirring up memories of fears and turmoil. I remembered all my struggles and went through some dark days trying to make sense of it all. I wanted to write about all I learned from my pregnancy with Selah and how I know if I get pregnant again I will have more peace because of what I learned. Unfortunately this wasn't meant to be. At least not right away. I know I learned a lot, but a due date isn't the time to recall those things; it's a time to mourn. When the pain of loss is acute, the things I've learned are beside the point and recalling how I've grown closer to God just stirs up resentment because in times like that nothing brings comfort. My attempts to make sense of things while grieving brought on a cyclone of out of control thoughts that was too familiar.
I wasn't prepared for pregnancy after loss. I thought I was, but I had no idea what was in store for me. Spiritual warfare was the norm day after day. Every sensation, every twinge of pain, every symptom or lack of symptoms made me wonder if my baby was going to make it. Worse than that, every thought that passed through my mind and every word heard or spoken to me became an omen. I looked to God for reassurance, but that just made me more confused because I never knew for sure if He was speaking to me or if it was my wishful thinking or a satanic influence. I wondered if devotions and Bible passages gave me clues about whether or not I would keep this one. Words that used to comfort me - how God loves me and works all things together for good - only comforted if I could interpret them as a sign my baby would be okay. I went to my counselor two weeks into my pregnancy. I told her all the thoughts that plagued me and desperately looked to her to make it all better. She helped me separate some truth from lies and I began to feel better, though I was worried about being able to recall what I'd learned during an attack. As I was leaving, I saw a concerned look come over her face. She stopped me and said, "This isn't over...but you will be blessed."
It was far from over. It got harder, then easier. Toward the end of my pregnancy, I was learning to take thoughts captive. I learned I needed to keep my eyes fixed on Jesus and not allow my mind to wander into what His intentions were for this pregnancy. I still had times of fear and apprehension, but I was learning how to handle those thoughts. Now as I look ahead to another pregnancy (hopefully). I am scared of history repeating itself. Not just losing another baby, but being tormented, losing another baby, then trying to untangle all the new material Satan has to use against me and wondering if I could have done something different to keep my baby. I went through several months of relative peace since I lost Selah. I worked through my accusations against God's character and my guilt, but the thought of trying again is showing me that I still have a lot of unfinished business when it comes to pregnancy after loss. I have been praying that God would bring things up that I need to deal with before I get pregnant so I'm not surprised by them later. I know that even though this has been one of the biggest challenges of my life I am assured victory because these thoughts that set themselves up against the authority of Christ are losing their power over me one by one. Whether this season ends with a baby in my arms or the peace which transcends all understanding I trust that He knows what is best and how to bring me there. This is not over, but I WILL be blessed.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
In ALL things give thanks
"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
I'm feeling pretty low. I put off acknowledging it until today, but I can't deny it anymore. I'm grieving for the babies I don't have in my arms. It feels all consuming. I'm angry and I don't feel very thankful for the many blessings I do have. I hate feeling like this. I know these feelings come sometimes, but what's the best way to handle them? How can I spend as little time here as possible without stuffing my feelings in denial?
Last night Jeremy and I saw Kari Jobe in concert. It was the one year anniversary of losing Shalem and the day after Mother's day. An infant in front of us - about the age Shalem would have been- was enough to make me see I have an unfulfilled longing. The songs about the sufficiency of God and the joy of those around me made me feel like a hypocrite. The very presence of God doesn't feel like enough. His love and promises of provision seem hollow. How can I think this after what we've been through together? In a moment of quiet I told God how I felt- that I want to praise Him with all my heart, but all I can think of is the baby I long for. I felt Him affirm what I said. Strangely, this just made me more angry. How can I feel love for Him when He allowed this suffering?
Today as I moped around waiting for this wave of grief to pass, I wondered how I might get out of it more quickly. I have still been praying because I know that the LORD is my deliverer even from anger at Him. What came to mind was a section from The Hiding Place. Corrie and her sister Betsie had been in prisoners in concentration camp for their role in hiding Jews. At one point they were moved to a new ward that was overcrowded with at least four times as many prisoners as it could hold, overwhelming odors from lack of sanitation, too little food, and fleas. Corrie was growing weary and didn't know how much more she could take. Betsie got out the Bible they had been able to smuggle in and read from 1 Theselonians "Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus." Corrie was skeptical that there was anything to give thanks for in those circumstances, but Betsie insisted that since the Bible said, "all circumstances" it included their situation. She began to pray thanking God that they were together, for all the women they could minister to and even for the fleas. This was too much for Corrie, but she conceded and thanked God for the fleas. The women learned later that it was the fleas that allowed them freedom from tyrannical wardens so they could conduct Bible studies. None of the guards wanted to be near the fleas. I thought about Corrie and Betsie today and how God was true to His word when they applied it to their situation, so I am going to try the same.
"LORD, I thank you for the passion you gave me to be a mother. I thank you for unfulfilled longings that teach me to walk by faith. I thank you that I can look at an infant and know a taste of the love and longing you have for me. I thank you for the pain that forces me to slow down and see my utter dependence on you and for the blessings it will bring that I cannot yet see. I thank you for the tears that transform grief into acceptance. Thank you that two of my children are already safe with you. Thank you for the one you let me keep and for my husband who strives to be like you. Thank you especially for refusing to treat me as my sins deserve and being patient when forget who you are. In Jesus' name, Amen."
I'm feeling pretty low. I put off acknowledging it until today, but I can't deny it anymore. I'm grieving for the babies I don't have in my arms. It feels all consuming. I'm angry and I don't feel very thankful for the many blessings I do have. I hate feeling like this. I know these feelings come sometimes, but what's the best way to handle them? How can I spend as little time here as possible without stuffing my feelings in denial?
Last night Jeremy and I saw Kari Jobe in concert. It was the one year anniversary of losing Shalem and the day after Mother's day. An infant in front of us - about the age Shalem would have been- was enough to make me see I have an unfulfilled longing. The songs about the sufficiency of God and the joy of those around me made me feel like a hypocrite. The very presence of God doesn't feel like enough. His love and promises of provision seem hollow. How can I think this after what we've been through together? In a moment of quiet I told God how I felt- that I want to praise Him with all my heart, but all I can think of is the baby I long for. I felt Him affirm what I said. Strangely, this just made me more angry. How can I feel love for Him when He allowed this suffering?
Today as I moped around waiting for this wave of grief to pass, I wondered how I might get out of it more quickly. I have still been praying because I know that the LORD is my deliverer even from anger at Him. What came to mind was a section from The Hiding Place. Corrie and her sister Betsie had been in prisoners in concentration camp for their role in hiding Jews. At one point they were moved to a new ward that was overcrowded with at least four times as many prisoners as it could hold, overwhelming odors from lack of sanitation, too little food, and fleas. Corrie was growing weary and didn't know how much more she could take. Betsie got out the Bible they had been able to smuggle in and read from 1 Theselonians "Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus." Corrie was skeptical that there was anything to give thanks for in those circumstances, but Betsie insisted that since the Bible said, "all circumstances" it included their situation. She began to pray thanking God that they were together, for all the women they could minister to and even for the fleas. This was too much for Corrie, but she conceded and thanked God for the fleas. The women learned later that it was the fleas that allowed them freedom from tyrannical wardens so they could conduct Bible studies. None of the guards wanted to be near the fleas. I thought about Corrie and Betsie today and how God was true to His word when they applied it to their situation, so I am going to try the same.
"LORD, I thank you for the passion you gave me to be a mother. I thank you for unfulfilled longings that teach me to walk by faith. I thank you that I can look at an infant and know a taste of the love and longing you have for me. I thank you for the pain that forces me to slow down and see my utter dependence on you and for the blessings it will bring that I cannot yet see. I thank you for the tears that transform grief into acceptance. Thank you that two of my children are already safe with you. Thank you for the one you let me keep and for my husband who strives to be like you. Thank you especially for refusing to treat me as my sins deserve and being patient when forget who you are. In Jesus' name, Amen."
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Unexpected Blessings
I usually write here because I'm going through a hard time and I need to work through some sadness. I talk about blessings too and the hope that I have, but my main purpose is usually to expose my pain to the light of day. This is a safe place to tell the truth about how I'm feeling to move one small step closer to healing.
Lately I feel as though God is asking me to focus on the blessings that have come from my losses. I am always hesitant to do this because even though the blessings are real, I have a rebound affect from acknowledging them. When I wonder at how God can bring beauty from pain, I can almost count on a new surge of anger. I think this is Satan's attempt to keep me in a pit of grief and also a natural reaction to a perceived attempt to rationalize something I would never wish on my worst enemy. So today I will acknowledge that although my losses bring me pain, my LORD has put a limit on that pain. The times I thought I couldn't handle any more were followed by times of rejoicing in my Savior's mercy; things I could not have seen without the pain that came first.
Before my losses, God was my safety net. I learned to take my fears to Him. I knew theoretically that He provided the grace needed in times of great testing, but I believed there was an unspoken agreement between us that testing would not come to me. I had to work through my fears of losing Meredith in September of 2009 when some friends of the family lost their 18 month old to leukemia. The death of a child became a real possibility instead of a theoretical one. God was still my safety net. Deep down I thought, "If I lose loved ones- at least I'll still have God." At least I'll still have God. God was becoming more and more a real part of my life, but He was just that- a part of my life. My first choice was to fill my life with joy and meaning by loving and serving my family and also by adding to my family. After I lost Shalem, I felt blessed and held by God through great testing, but I trusted that testing to be over. I felt immune to more pain because of what I'd been through. My relationship with God returned more or less to where it was before except that He showed His power to bring blessing from pain and I began suppressing some suspicions I had about His character. When I lost Selah, the real testing began. God didn't behave like I thought He would. He didn't answer my prayers the way I expected Him to. He didn't shield me from pain and make everything all better like He had in the past while He was courting me and healing old wounds. Life seemed dismal because I learned that I can't count on anything in life to behave itself and God wasn't Who I thought He was. This was the low point before the real blessings began to flow.
I began to see God as the center of my life. I still forget this now and then, but I always come back to the knowledge that I am here because God created me. He saw my life from beginning to end from the viewpoint of eternity. He decided to put just the right people and situations in my life so I would grow in my knowledge of Him and love for others. He planned for opportunities for me to show His love for lost and hurting people- a job that angels envy. He sent me three children- one to teach me a little of what it's like to love like He does and two to make my heart a little bigger and draw my eyes heavenward. I have considered many more blessings that God brought about from the loss of my babies, but it hurts too much to say more today. Special dates are looming and it is harder to consider that pain and blessing can exist together. I won't be able to see all the reasons God allowed this pain, but I know He would have prevented it if there were not greater blessings at stake. He showed me some already and I believe by faith I will see all the reasons clearly when I am reunited with my babies.
Lately I feel as though God is asking me to focus on the blessings that have come from my losses. I am always hesitant to do this because even though the blessings are real, I have a rebound affect from acknowledging them. When I wonder at how God can bring beauty from pain, I can almost count on a new surge of anger. I think this is Satan's attempt to keep me in a pit of grief and also a natural reaction to a perceived attempt to rationalize something I would never wish on my worst enemy. So today I will acknowledge that although my losses bring me pain, my LORD has put a limit on that pain. The times I thought I couldn't handle any more were followed by times of rejoicing in my Savior's mercy; things I could not have seen without the pain that came first.
Before my losses, God was my safety net. I learned to take my fears to Him. I knew theoretically that He provided the grace needed in times of great testing, but I believed there was an unspoken agreement between us that testing would not come to me. I had to work through my fears of losing Meredith in September of 2009 when some friends of the family lost their 18 month old to leukemia. The death of a child became a real possibility instead of a theoretical one. God was still my safety net. Deep down I thought, "If I lose loved ones- at least I'll still have God." At least I'll still have God. God was becoming more and more a real part of my life, but He was just that- a part of my life. My first choice was to fill my life with joy and meaning by loving and serving my family and also by adding to my family. After I lost Shalem, I felt blessed and held by God through great testing, but I trusted that testing to be over. I felt immune to more pain because of what I'd been through. My relationship with God returned more or less to where it was before except that He showed His power to bring blessing from pain and I began suppressing some suspicions I had about His character. When I lost Selah, the real testing began. God didn't behave like I thought He would. He didn't answer my prayers the way I expected Him to. He didn't shield me from pain and make everything all better like He had in the past while He was courting me and healing old wounds. Life seemed dismal because I learned that I can't count on anything in life to behave itself and God wasn't Who I thought He was. This was the low point before the real blessings began to flow.
I began to see God as the center of my life. I still forget this now and then, but I always come back to the knowledge that I am here because God created me. He saw my life from beginning to end from the viewpoint of eternity. He decided to put just the right people and situations in my life so I would grow in my knowledge of Him and love for others. He planned for opportunities for me to show His love for lost and hurting people- a job that angels envy. He sent me three children- one to teach me a little of what it's like to love like He does and two to make my heart a little bigger and draw my eyes heavenward. I have considered many more blessings that God brought about from the loss of my babies, but it hurts too much to say more today. Special dates are looming and it is harder to consider that pain and blessing can exist together. I won't be able to see all the reasons God allowed this pain, but I know He would have prevented it if there were not greater blessings at stake. He showed me some already and I believe by faith I will see all the reasons clearly when I am reunited with my babies.
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