Hannah's Heartstrings

Grief is a strange thing. It is not as linear as the "stages of grief" chart might suggest. Its a lot more like waves that never really stop. You might think you're through it, but the moment you do, something comes out of nowhere and reminds you of it all over again.

I was supposed to be 40 weeks pregnant today.

I should have been nesting, cleaning, meal prepping, and washing tiny baby clothes this week. I should have been making final plans with my midwife, and arranging care for my toddler. But none of those things needed done. Instead, I just trudged through a normal week of days spent keeping my kid occupied, and waiting for my husband to come home. Instead, I have dealt with whacky hormones and annoying hair loss that only serves to remind me that I am postpartum without a baby in my arms.

I missed the six month mark due to being out of town and occupied. June 17th came and went without fanfare, but it actually hurt a lot once I realized I had missed it. I had paused on the 17th of each month since December to cry a little, pray, and just take a moment to honor my baby. But I missed the sixth month. Perhaps because I was so focused on the fact that the same month I would be acknowledging that it had been six months since I miscarried, it would also be the month I was due to give birth to the baby I'd lost. I don't know if you'd call that irony or not, but it felt significant to me.

It's been a rough week, not just because of my due date, but for reasons all seeming to come from the same theme. I've tried to take care of and be gentle with myself. I have been learning a lot about trapped emotions lately and how they effect the body physically, so I have been careful not to bury things or suppress big emotions. Even still, this is hard to express.

Like I said, grief is a strange thing. It is filled with such a range of emotions. Sadness, loss, failure, anger. You never quite know what you're going to get.

Once I knew my miscarriage was complete that day, I was filled with an overwhelming feeling that I can only describe as a sense of finality. The violence that I experienced from my body left me with nothing but an ending. It was so completely final. I felt like I was standing there utterly empty handed. I've only experienced that a few times in my life, with the losses of friends or after heartbreaking experiences.

Endings are hard. Even if the end is good, there's still a sense of loss and nostalgia for what once was. I am still in the midst of this ending. I know that there will be new beginnings eventually, but knowing that doesn't always bring as much comfort as it's supposed to. I know a lot of things that people generally think should negate the pain. I know that I am grateful to have one child already, that my baby is in heaven waiting for me, and that I will probably have another baby eventually. But that doesn't make it any easier.

And you know what? It's ok. 

The Bible says that we do not sorrow as those who have no hope (1 Thess. 4:13), but it does not say that we don't sorrow at all. It's ok to mourn and grieve and feel big, deep things. We don't have to pretend that the loss doesn't hit us hard simply because there's so many other things to be grateful for. We don't have to heal on anyone's timeline, or "be ok" because not being ok makes people uncomfortable.

Our God is truly faithful, and He does carry us through the worst of storms and battles. He doesn't push us to "be ok," but points us toward himself as the ultimate source of peace and healing.

So today, on the day I would have been expecting my baby to be born, I am resting and writing, crying and praying, singing and being still. I took my toddler out for an ice cream date, and am spending time reflecting on all the joy he brings to my life, as well as all the love I've received over these last six months from so many people.

Grief is big and real. Its heavy and takes time to process. Trust the process and the One who created it. Don't rush, don't be ashamed of it, and don't make excuses for it.

If you are going through something that fills your heart with grief, please remember the biggest and most important thing: you are never alone.

***

(Photo of the little wooden box that we buried the tiny earthly body of our baby in last December. I will always be grateful for the 12 weeks that I got to be this little one's mama.)

On November 9, 2017, I began writing this post, tears streaming down my face as I typed. It has taken me a while to be able to come back and finish it. 

***

I've been awake for hours. I'll blame it on pregnancy, even though this sort of thing just seems to happen every now and then. Its ok, honestly, because even though it leaves me incredibly tired, it usually means I get to spend a little time with my husband before he goes to work for the next twelve hours, or I get some "alone time" to reflect in the quiet before Titus wakes up. Both of which have happened this morning.

There have been lots of thoughts swirling in my mind in these early hours. I'm looking forward to Fellows Family Thanksgiving this weekend, and getting to see our Canadians. There's food prep to think about. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I'm quite grateful that I figured out how to transition Titus into sleeping through the night.

But everything pales in comparison to the two overriding themes currently presiding over our family.

There is a new baby growing in my belly.

And our Grandma is dying.

There is such a dichotomy of happy and sad in our hearts right now. We are rejoicing in the home going of a dear 94-year-old saint, a woman who has brightened every life she's touched, all while mourning the end of her beautiful life and dealing with the heartbreak of seeing her mortal body suffer through its decline.

We are also completely thrilled at the new life joining us next year, but sad that he or she will never get to know this amazing person nearly everyone simply called Grandma.

Watching someone go through the end of their life while beginning someone else's life inside me is such a humbling experience. To be this close to both the beginning and the end of creation...it's something quite holy.

We keep saying it won't be long.

It won't be long before I have this precious baby in my arms. It won't be long before I get to go through birth again and Titus gets to be a big brother.

It won't be long before Grandma is home in glory, seeing the husband she hasn't seen in thirty years, her family and friends who've gone before her, and most of all, the Savior she has loved for nearly a century.

There are tears. Lots of tears. And comfort food and comfort pants, thanks to my indescribably amazing sister-in-law, Amy. We are all rallying to support and love each other. Its deep. Its meaningful. Titus brings joy with his infectious toddler energy, and I recount the most recent wonders  of how my miraculous baby is growing to the size of a blueberry this week.

One of the most incredible things to watch during this time has been my mother-in-law taking care of her mother-in-law. I watch her in complete awe sometimes. What love it is that compels a person to take care of someone else so tenderly and intimately! Her tireless attention, generous spirit, and deep, deep kindness makes me hope that I can be even half the woman she is. There are few things in this world that I have seen more admirable than this.

***

Now, two months later...

Life and death surely have collided, but not in the way we were expecting.

Based on what I wrote earlier in this post, Grandma should be in Heaven, and I should be close to 17 weeks pregnant.

But she isn't. And I'm not.

Grandma has somehow hung on to her threads of life for two more months, rising and falling from week to week, and surprising us greatly with her longevity. She has even managed to outlive a friend who was nearly 15 years younger.

And I lost my sweet, tiny baby. I've never experienced a miscarriage before, and hope with all my heart I never have to again. I was 12 weeks along, but the baby was no bigger than 6-8 weeks, so very well may have been gone already when I began began this post, or shortly after.

I miscarried a week before Christmas. Nothing could have prepared me for the process, the grief, the pain, and the confusion of such an ordeal. I am so grateful for the love and support that has carried me through this last month, some of which has come from places I never expected.

This is not going to be a post about how God's ways are higher than our ways, or how He always has a plan. I don't believe that's how God works with us today. I don't believe He micromanages our lives in ways we cannot understand (and I don't want to have any doctrinal debates with anyone over this, so please don't even start).

What I am here to say is that sometimes, life is horrible. We live in a fallen world, where beautiful souls linger in bedridden old age far longer than they want to, and where babies die before they get to live a life. Its horrible. It hurts. It is unexplainable and unfair. The answer to our agonized question of "Why?" is simply that life happens in the worst ways sometimes.

But we do not sorrow as those who have no hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). We are grateful that this world is not our home, and we look forward to better days in Glory. We know that we have peace no matter what happens, and that God comforts our hearts and gives us the strength we need to get through the worst things life throws at us. He doesn't leave us unprotected. He builds us up in our hearts through His word, giving us wisdom and courage to persevere even when we don't want to.

God did not take my baby so that I could learn some valuable lesson, and He is not leaving Grandma here in pain and confusion for some unknown purpose. But He is loving us, comforting us, and teaching us how to live through tragedy so that we may help others going through the same thing. He does not bring about the pain so that He may teach us, but rather can use it to help us learn when it happens.

This new year is looking different than I thought it would. Right now, instead of looking forward to the halfway point of my pregnancy, I'm healing my body from a traumatic experience, managing deep anxiety, and hoping in the near future to try again for a new baby. And we are still waiting to celebrate Grandma's home going.

Life is crazy, and amazing, and unexpected. And we look to the future with hope and a joy in our hearts that cannot be quenched.


(It doesn't matter to me if you agree or not, and I'll reiterate that my Biblical beliefs are not up for debate. If you have found comfort in some other belief, then good for you. I've spent enough time arguing and studying to know where I stand and right now, I don't need to hash it out again with someone just looking for a fight. Thanks but no thanks.)