Time Marches On...

Doesn't it seem like things should stop when something life altering happens? Maybe that's completely egocentric, but I'd like to believe that when you are on the down swing of the roller coaster everything should stop until you can catch your breath. Unfortunately, that isn't how God designed things.

I believe it's a life lesson to feel such grief or pain, the emptiness of loss...no matter what kind it might be...

Where am I going with this? Well...we lost our precious baby a few months ago, something that is still incredibly hard to say...to admit. It's almost shameful in some ways...like a personal failure. Did I do anything wrong? Not according to doctors or nurses or even family. But in your mind, you will always blame yourself...at least I will. You will always wonder what you could have done differently or what your baby may have been like. I had never known that grief could cause such physical pain. I've lost very important people in my life....but nothing could have ever prepared me to hear the doctor say that my baby's heart had stopped beating. At that moment, I believe time should have stopped....everything should have paused until we could breathe again. Nothing can prepare you for that moment...it's the blind drop in the ride that you can't see while standing in line, and nothing can take the hurt away.

It's ironic that when you hear the awful news you feel so alienated, like you are the only one who has ever experienced this pain....and yet I had never felt more protected or loved by my husband, my family, my doctors, and God. A good friend of my mom's and actually her boss (the pastor) told my mom to pass along these words "No matter what is happening, look in the faces of the doctors and nurses caring for you and know that God is working through them." Lying in the various beds and on tables, I remembered that and looked, really looked, at my care team...not as people but as workers blessed by God...workers given a gift to care for me physically when I needed it most. Funny how your perspective can change so quickly. Those words were what I needed to remind me that God hadn't done this to me...but that He had a plan and was allowing me to go through this to become stronger. It also reminded me that Larry and I weren't riding through this valley alone...the great Physician was working the controls all along.

Something else I learned is that when parents say it's hard to let go of their children, they aren't kidding around. I know I never got to name my baby, to know if it would be a boy or girl, I never was allowed to hold Peanut, and yet in that short time I was a mommy. How quickly we become attached to those little blessings. I say blessings because no matter how often you question God's reasoning, He still blessed us with the joy of a baby. We were able to conceive and feel that overwhelming joy, and while it was taken from us too quickly...it's a blessing some never know or struggle for years to feel.

I still have lots of days filled with tears, lots of moments with gut wrenching pain....you know....the days when you see newborns everywhere, or pegnant women waddling, days that should have been a milestone in the pregnancy, times where you see baby things, or the day you put away your maternity clothes....and while life didn't pause for us, we're starting to breathe again...you know...that moment when you have reached the bottom of the hill and the wind stops long enough for you not feel totally suffocated.

I have grown closer to my husband than I ever imagined. He is such an incredible support system and literally held my hand the entire time. He even made me a little "plaque" of sorts. He used dried rose petals that he gave me the day I got home from the hospital and the ultrasound picture we had of Peanut along with a beautiful poem. It now hangs on our wall in a place of honor and love for the little one that we long to meet one day. I rest assured that God and Aunt Kay are taking care of Peanut until I can get there. I think she'd love that....and it helps ease a little of the hurt.

When things get rough and you hit the bottom, the ride doesn't stop for you to breathe....you learn to hold your breath until the worst is over....and at the end of the track you just have to look back and say "it was worth every minute"...because the moments you bottomed out made the hills and twists so much more exciting.

We are surviving and are better for it. I'm glad the ride didn't stop...I believe the best is yet to come.