I have been absent from sharing with you. These past 3 months have been marked by great joy and now recently with great sadness and pain. And now I feel sucker punched, empty and trying to find my footing again.
In January, we learned we were expecting. After so long, it was actually true and though the words “cautiously optimistic” were ever present with us, we began, after so many weeks, to be hopeful. Tentative conversations of what might be grew in confident assurance between us. Our precious little secret began to leak out, from one dear friend to another. Family was told with great joy. I was content beyond words.
And then March 1. Ultrasound. No heartbeat. Take this pill, it’s all over.
So here we are. Even as the physically pain is starting to subside, my “insides” don’t feel right. Deep numbness and sadness grips me, makes it hard to lift my head. I want to sleep. But even sleep is not peaceful. I want to hide. But hiding puts me too much alone with me. I want to work. But the work day moves past me like sludge.
He calls it hormones. He’s probably right. (Stupid little hormones…)
But I want to believe I’ve learned from my past responses to personal pain, that I know better now. That I know the push-it-down-and-move-on approach is not healthy – will not work. So I’m trying to deal with this differently. This is me, scared to share this with you, trying not to hide, trying not to cry alone.
(Why am I writing this sitting in Starbucks?! Excuse me while I go cry in the bathroom alone… Ok, I’m back.)
Kind Words and Unexpected Actions
- Without many words, Sarah shared this comfort with me from Ann Voskamp. It was timely.
- Graciously Stacey let me talk, then let me not talk, all morning long. She didn’t even try to fix it.
- Though our friendship is not closely personal, Jennie brought me food. From a long way away with sick little ones of her own in tow. We were stunned by her kindness.
- Sister Daisy, put words in writing born from her own sorrow. I don’t even have proper words to respond to her.
- We had bought tickets to the Jacksonville Symphony for the very day of my great sickness. When they learned we missed the show because of our loss, they freely offered tickets for us to come again. Unexpected compassion from an organization.
- Many, many text messages, Facebook messages and emails, like little pop up support throughout my long days.
And then there is this.
Trust in Him at all times
Pour out your heart before Him
God is a refuge for us
In the arms of the Holy Spirit, my tears will not stop. And comfort beyond all comfort comes to my heart in this verse. So I continue to pour, and pour, and pour my heart out. And when I do need to hide, I bury my face in Him, my refuge.