"Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep." -Romans 12:15
I found out this weekend two of my friends are pregnant. I am happy for them. It is a joyful time in their life and I know they wait in anticipation to hold their sweet babies. I can rejoice for them. I trust the Lord will allow me to be gracious towards them during this time in their life.
I also wept this weekend because of the news. I wept because I don't understand why their babies are living and mine aren't. I don't at ALL want anyone's child to perish- yuck, I can't even think about wanting that or meaning that is how I feel. Rather, it is just hard to deal with my loss coupled with their gain. This news opened a can of worms I have tried so hard to keep shut: depression and fear. I know the Lord is capable of delivering me from these negative emotions, but at times, it feels like this journey won't ever end. And I know part of it won't- the memory of their tiny footprints they have left upon my heart.
Today, I am asking the Lord to swiftly deliver me from this depression. I am asking for help to rejoice with those who rejoice as He helps others weep with those who weep. I am asking for His gentle hand to be upon me every time a reminder comes my way that my babies' dwelling place is in Heaven, while other babies' are on this earth- I know He has made His dwelling place in my heart. And I am holding onto hope for the future.
9.24.2012
9.15.2012
Waiting Room ONE.
I finally feel like I might be dismissed from this waiting room. I will, of course, have to go into another, but this one's time is coming to an end... I think.
My thoughts to myself a couple of weeks ago:
I have made a decision to switch doctors. I need a fresh start and I need clarity from someone who will lend an ear and give me some extra TLC. If that makes me high maintenance right now, I don't care. It's America- we pay for our healthcare, so I want the best and that is that. God, please provide a good, new doctor and clarity to make that decision. You know me well. You know I will agonize over every detail. Make the answer clear. Please!
He did. The Lord landed me in Dr. Breniman's lap. The doctor's mission? "To be part of a clinic where Christ is preeminent." When I met with him 2 weeks ago he sat with me in his office for an hour. He didn't put me in a scantily clad robe in a freezing cold room and give me 5 minutes of his time. He brought me to his office, played plinky plunky music (F-R-I-E-N-D-S, anyone?) and listened.
With a new doctor, I feel as if I am getting out this waiting room. I keep thinking about Shane Bernard's song lyrics: **sitting in the waiting room of silence, waiting for that still soft voice I know, offering my words up to the rooftop to Your heart, trusting that this closet's where You are.** I have been in such a waiting room. My hCG levels still are high and my body thinks it's pregnant, which has brought an onset of other complications, and it has been so hard. Most women's bodies return to "normal" 4-5 weeks after a D&C... well, I will be at 7 weeks Monday, and it can't get to a "new normal" yet because I still have hCG in me (that is rare), and I am still experiencing post-surgery symptoms (usually those only last 4days to 3weeks max). I want out of this waiting room. The blessing of it all is this: the hormone levels are dropping. And when they get down to zero, I have a chance at a new normal.
For the first time since all of this, I have hope for the future, coupled with trying to live for today. A very dear friend and I were emailing back and forth yesterday, and she could relate to living for "today." She said, "God gives us grace for today. God doesn't give us grace to live in tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or next year. If we try to live there and be there mentally and emotionally, then we will live in a hurricane. All God gives is grace for today, to make it through this day, with this daily bread, and his grace is MORE than enough for this day. And the next day, the abundant grace starts all over again." Words. Of. Wisdom. ... Words. To. Live. By.
From the beginning of my pregnancy I told the Lord when worries came I didn't want to use the doctors as my source of hope. I never wanted to go to an appointment and leave idolizing the doctors and their views/opinions. I know the Lord is the Ultimate Doctor. But, I also asked that He would allow them to be a conduit for my understanding of His ability in this, on this earth.
When I went to my new doctor, the Lord allowed just that. My new doctor is not God. But, He has a set of skills and knowledge I don't, and he can help me understand what is happening in the here and now which has brought me an ability to live more easily in the "today." He is running all the necessary tests, and he even has given me a "game plan" for the future. While this requires more waiting, it is a step forward. And I feel like I can breathe... literally. For the first time in a LONG time, I can breathe. I can't even begin to explain what it is like. It is still so very hard and I am still grieving, but I know there is hope in tomorrow and God's grace will abundantly supply me tomorrow as I sit in this waiting room TODAY. He has not left me. He will not change. He will remain the same yesterday, today and forever and because of that, I can live TODAY. He has allowed earthly people to be a conduit for His love, His grace and His mercy and as I put hope in tomorrow, He will sustain me TODAY.
A good, new blog friend said it is necessary to give thanks while grieving. I couldn't for awhile. Today, I can. Father, thank you for the people you have brought into my path along this journey. Thank you for a new doctor who loves you very much. Thank you for the sisterhood I found with other mothers who have experienced loss. Thank you for caring for them and letting us grieve together. Thank you for letting them help me in this. Thank you for the people who have reached out to me because of this blog. Thank you for the friends I have that have been real and consistent. Thank you that my words never go unheard. Thank you for my husband's support and love. Thank you for this day my daily bread as I sit in this waiting room.
My thoughts to myself a couple of weeks ago:
I have made a decision to switch doctors. I need a fresh start and I need clarity from someone who will lend an ear and give me some extra TLC. If that makes me high maintenance right now, I don't care. It's America- we pay for our healthcare, so I want the best and that is that. God, please provide a good, new doctor and clarity to make that decision. You know me well. You know I will agonize over every detail. Make the answer clear. Please!
He did. The Lord landed me in Dr. Breniman's lap. The doctor's mission? "To be part of a clinic where Christ is preeminent." When I met with him 2 weeks ago he sat with me in his office for an hour. He didn't put me in a scantily clad robe in a freezing cold room and give me 5 minutes of his time. He brought me to his office, played plinky plunky music (F-R-I-E-N-D-S, anyone?) and listened.
With a new doctor, I feel as if I am getting out this waiting room. I keep thinking about Shane Bernard's song lyrics: **sitting in the waiting room of silence, waiting for that still soft voice I know, offering my words up to the rooftop to Your heart, trusting that this closet's where You are.** I have been in such a waiting room. My hCG levels still are high and my body thinks it's pregnant, which has brought an onset of other complications, and it has been so hard. Most women's bodies return to "normal" 4-5 weeks after a D&C... well, I will be at 7 weeks Monday, and it can't get to a "new normal" yet because I still have hCG in me (that is rare), and I am still experiencing post-surgery symptoms (usually those only last 4days to 3weeks max). I want out of this waiting room. The blessing of it all is this: the hormone levels are dropping. And when they get down to zero, I have a chance at a new normal.
For the first time since all of this, I have hope for the future, coupled with trying to live for today. A very dear friend and I were emailing back and forth yesterday, and she could relate to living for "today." She said, "God gives us grace for today. God doesn't give us grace to live in tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or next year. If we try to live there and be there mentally and emotionally, then we will live in a hurricane. All God gives is grace for today, to make it through this day, with this daily bread, and his grace is MORE than enough for this day. And the next day, the abundant grace starts all over again." Words. Of. Wisdom. ... Words. To. Live. By.
From the beginning of my pregnancy I told the Lord when worries came I didn't want to use the doctors as my source of hope. I never wanted to go to an appointment and leave idolizing the doctors and their views/opinions. I know the Lord is the Ultimate Doctor. But, I also asked that He would allow them to be a conduit for my understanding of His ability in this, on this earth.
When I went to my new doctor, the Lord allowed just that. My new doctor is not God. But, He has a set of skills and knowledge I don't, and he can help me understand what is happening in the here and now which has brought me an ability to live more easily in the "today." He is running all the necessary tests, and he even has given me a "game plan" for the future. While this requires more waiting, it is a step forward. And I feel like I can breathe... literally. For the first time in a LONG time, I can breathe. I can't even begin to explain what it is like. It is still so very hard and I am still grieving, but I know there is hope in tomorrow and God's grace will abundantly supply me tomorrow as I sit in this waiting room TODAY. He has not left me. He will not change. He will remain the same yesterday, today and forever and because of that, I can live TODAY. He has allowed earthly people to be a conduit for His love, His grace and His mercy and as I put hope in tomorrow, He will sustain me TODAY.
A good, new blog friend said it is necessary to give thanks while grieving. I couldn't for awhile. Today, I can. Father, thank you for the people you have brought into my path along this journey. Thank you for a new doctor who loves you very much. Thank you for the sisterhood I found with other mothers who have experienced loss. Thank you for caring for them and letting us grieve together. Thank you for letting them help me in this. Thank you for the people who have reached out to me because of this blog. Thank you for the friends I have that have been real and consistent. Thank you that my words never go unheard. Thank you for my husband's support and love. Thank you for this day my daily bread as I sit in this waiting room.
9.14.2012
San Diego
This past weekend and for a few days of this week, Daniel brought me along on a business trip to San Diego. It was exactly what I needed. Time away from Arkansas, a bayside hotel room with a kingsize bed, and the beach.
While there I was able to reflect a lot. (probably a little too much). But it was SO GOOD for me. I love San Diego, CA. And I loved extra time with my husband. This is what I looked at while he was working during the day:
I love the ocean. I love the sound of waves crashing along the beach. I love drifting in and out of sleep and I love looking at endless water. Today I am choosing to think about this big sea being a fraction of the love God has for me. We cannot even comprehend how wide, high, long and deep is the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge. I am praying, like Paul, that I will have a small glimpse of this love I know He has for me and that it will lull me to places of deep peace and sleep just like the waves of the ocean.
While there I was able to reflect a lot. (probably a little too much). But it was SO GOOD for me. I love San Diego, CA. And I loved extra time with my husband. This is what I looked at while he was working during the day:
9.05.2012
Depression, Insomnia & Hope to Carry On
Having a three day weekend at home with my husband was a big plus over the Labor Day Holiday. I was able to relax, recuperate, laugh and grieve. I laughed for the first time (like a real, belly-aching laugh) this weekend, too. Yes, it's only one laugh, but it's a start.
Along with the weekend I have been able to recognize a new emotion which has crept upon me: DEPRESSION. Of course, it has been there all along through this grieving process, but it's turning into real depression. And it sucks. My doctor and I decided (my primary care physician) if it continues to worsen, I will have to get on some medicine in a month or so. I am dealing with what is called, "Postpartum Depression after Miscarriage." Basically it is like Postpartum Depression (real depression that sets in after childbirth in some women- lasting a few months) coupled with the grief from the loss of a baby. I am praying very hard that it goes away. Not because I am too prideful to get on medicine. I will if I have to. But mainly because it flat out sucks -AND- I am hoping my whacky hormones are contributing to it so once they level out a bit, it will subside. I am also praying because I believe the Lord can deliver me from this...
I have been clinging to a lot scriptures during these dark times. Many of the scriptures I have been clinging to have been mailed to me almost daily by my dear friend Elisabeth. She has literally mailed me a bible verse at least 30xs since this happened and most times, they arrive on the right day.
Another onset of this trauma has been insomnia. I have clinical insomnia now. It blows. I am up at least half of the night. And we all know what it's like to not sleep. You look at the clock and think, "If I fall asleep NOW I'll get 4 hours... If I fall asleep NOW I'll get 3.5 hours..." and so on. The worst part isn't the not sleeping. It's the thoughts that accompany me while I lay there. I start going a little crazy. And no sleep adds to the depression and anxiety and makes living a somewhat functional life in the middle of grief very hard.
But, even as I write this. I have hope. I have hope that I will get better. I have hope I will sleep again. I have hope that the Lord will deliver me from this peril I am in. Sometimes the hope is barely a mustard seed and when in the throws of deep depression there is no hope, but today (and on a continuum, I am beginning to always have some) I am hopeful. I am hopeful that my God who didn't spare His Own Son for me, will deliver me from this. I have heard from other women who have been in my shoes, He was/is faithful for them, too-I am not alone in these stages. Deliverance may come through medicine, it may come through time allowing my body to remember how to sleep and chemical imbalances and hormonal imbalances to level out, but I have hope. And hope is the reason I can press on in the middle of my darkest nights and darkest days.
"Rejoice in hope... and be constant in prayer." Romans 12:12
Along with the weekend I have been able to recognize a new emotion which has crept upon me: DEPRESSION. Of course, it has been there all along through this grieving process, but it's turning into real depression. And it sucks. My doctor and I decided (my primary care physician) if it continues to worsen, I will have to get on some medicine in a month or so. I am dealing with what is called, "Postpartum Depression after Miscarriage." Basically it is like Postpartum Depression (real depression that sets in after childbirth in some women- lasting a few months) coupled with the grief from the loss of a baby. I am praying very hard that it goes away. Not because I am too prideful to get on medicine. I will if I have to. But mainly because it flat out sucks -AND- I am hoping my whacky hormones are contributing to it so once they level out a bit, it will subside. I am also praying because I believe the Lord can deliver me from this...
I have been clinging to a lot scriptures during these dark times. Many of the scriptures I have been clinging to have been mailed to me almost daily by my dear friend Elisabeth. She has literally mailed me a bible verse at least 30xs since this happened and most times, they arrive on the right day.
Another onset of this trauma has been insomnia. I have clinical insomnia now. It blows. I am up at least half of the night. And we all know what it's like to not sleep. You look at the clock and think, "If I fall asleep NOW I'll get 4 hours... If I fall asleep NOW I'll get 3.5 hours..." and so on. The worst part isn't the not sleeping. It's the thoughts that accompany me while I lay there. I start going a little crazy. And no sleep adds to the depression and anxiety and makes living a somewhat functional life in the middle of grief very hard.
But, even as I write this. I have hope. I have hope that I will get better. I have hope I will sleep again. I have hope that the Lord will deliver me from this peril I am in. Sometimes the hope is barely a mustard seed and when in the throws of deep depression there is no hope, but today (and on a continuum, I am beginning to always have some) I am hopeful. I am hopeful that my God who didn't spare His Own Son for me, will deliver me from this. I have heard from other women who have been in my shoes, He was/is faithful for them, too-I am not alone in these stages. Deliverance may come through medicine, it may come through time allowing my body to remember how to sleep and chemical imbalances and hormonal imbalances to level out, but I have hope. And hope is the reason I can press on in the middle of my darkest nights and darkest days.
"Rejoice in hope... and be constant in prayer." Romans 12:12
9.01.2012
Held
This song pretty much sums up how I feel right now. I honestly can relate to every, single lyric in this song...
**Held by Natalie Grant**
Two months is too little, they let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling
Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
We're asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair...
This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive...
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow
This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive...
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait for one hour
Watching for our Savior
This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive...
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
**Held by Natalie Grant**
Two months is too little, they let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling
Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
We're asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair...
This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive...
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow
This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive...
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait for one hour
Watching for our Savior
This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive...
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
