Be Still
I am frustrated. Frustrated with my mind, frustrated with my body. When everything happened and we learned we lost our baby, I cried all the way home. I held it together for a time, having shed what I thought was all the tears my body produced. Then, I cried more. I cried when my husband came home, and although I was the most thankful woman in the world to have a husband I could run to who would embrace me in the biggest hug in the world, I still cried. We cried together. Our family shed our tears together, and our Church family joined in the following day. We have been surrounded with so much love and support, so much encouragement--I cannot describe the blessing we have in the village that surrounds us and will one day surround our children.
Within the coverage of all of this love, I made a foolish assumption and expectation of myself; I told myself I could have that following week to grieve. Not the following month or year, but that WEEK. I assumed that by sharing with the world, I would be able to heal more quickly, more succinctly, and I would be able to return back to normal. I thought I could use this as my low and get back to where I typically had my high, and that I could crawl back out of the hole that had been dug for me. But alas, I was wrong. How foolish could be? I some how had talked myself into believing that the love I felt so strongly, the joy I felt so completely, and the sudden sorrow that cut so deeply would suddenly disappear after a week. I have been putting an expectation on myself that I didn't even realize was wrong. It has been 2 weeks since we found out we lost our Sweet One, and it feels as though it has been a life time.
Like many travelers, my husband and I spend our car rides talking and singing songs at the top of our lungs. On our way to our anniversary getaway, we sang "Simple Man" (the Shinedown version is our favorite at the moment). For some reason, the lyrics hit me this day, and I sang my heart out, cried my eyes out, and prayed fervently for a son. I desired with all that was in me to have a son so we could raise him to be a simple man who loves his Heavenly Father and wants to simply live and love and praise our God. Lo and behold, a few weeks later we were finding out that we were pregnant.
We thought Bailey was going to be our son or our daughter, and our cup was overflowing with the excitement of raising them. All of our prayers, fears, and joys were coming together in the little mustard seed God had planted in my tummy. All of these feelings were filling our hearts just when we found out we were also losing that mustard seed, replacing those feelings with a deep sorrow that cannot be explained in its fullness.
Knowing all of these things--knowing the timeline, the deep desire, the fervent prayers, the joy that filled our hearts, how could I expect myself to be back to "normal" after one week? Not only that, but how could I expect my "normal" to be normal? The fact of the matter is that we are parents--we sometimes may have a difficult time grasping that fact, and the world may at times frown at the very idea. But we are parents and we loved and still love our child with everything in us. Because of these facts, I don't want my sorrow to end after a week. My sorrow will likely never fully end, but it will be surrounded with other joys. Right now, I believe He is trying to teach me how to love more deeply and how to be more gentle with myself.
Remember in the beginning of this post I mentioned how I was frustrated with my body? I had been frustrated with all the hormones and craziness calming down after losing our baby, but then I was frustrated with being tired. Then, this week I was hit with the stomach flu of all things! My immune system was a sitting duck for any illness that walked through the front door. I have been frustrated at being ill, frustrated at having no energy, frustrated that I haven't been able to accomplish the things I typically stay on top of. But God whispered "Be Still," and here I am, being still and resting up, trying to accept the things I cannot change.
Psalm 46:10 “Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!”
God's got this, you guys. Even in the midst of confusion and frustration, He is still God and He is still being exalted. He is still using it all for His good. He will heal our hearts, our bodies, and our minds. He will lead us to do His will. All we must do is be still and know that He is our God. Here's to another week of learning and embracing this fact.
Within the coverage of all of this love, I made a foolish assumption and expectation of myself; I told myself I could have that following week to grieve. Not the following month or year, but that WEEK. I assumed that by sharing with the world, I would be able to heal more quickly, more succinctly, and I would be able to return back to normal. I thought I could use this as my low and get back to where I typically had my high, and that I could crawl back out of the hole that had been dug for me. But alas, I was wrong. How foolish could be? I some how had talked myself into believing that the love I felt so strongly, the joy I felt so completely, and the sudden sorrow that cut so deeply would suddenly disappear after a week. I have been putting an expectation on myself that I didn't even realize was wrong. It has been 2 weeks since we found out we lost our Sweet One, and it feels as though it has been a life time.
Like many travelers, my husband and I spend our car rides talking and singing songs at the top of our lungs. On our way to our anniversary getaway, we sang "Simple Man" (the Shinedown version is our favorite at the moment). For some reason, the lyrics hit me this day, and I sang my heart out, cried my eyes out, and prayed fervently for a son. I desired with all that was in me to have a son so we could raise him to be a simple man who loves his Heavenly Father and wants to simply live and love and praise our God. Lo and behold, a few weeks later we were finding out that we were pregnant.
We thought Bailey was going to be our son or our daughter, and our cup was overflowing with the excitement of raising them. All of our prayers, fears, and joys were coming together in the little mustard seed God had planted in my tummy. All of these feelings were filling our hearts just when we found out we were also losing that mustard seed, replacing those feelings with a deep sorrow that cannot be explained in its fullness.
Knowing all of these things--knowing the timeline, the deep desire, the fervent prayers, the joy that filled our hearts, how could I expect myself to be back to "normal" after one week? Not only that, but how could I expect my "normal" to be normal? The fact of the matter is that we are parents--we sometimes may have a difficult time grasping that fact, and the world may at times frown at the very idea. But we are parents and we loved and still love our child with everything in us. Because of these facts, I don't want my sorrow to end after a week. My sorrow will likely never fully end, but it will be surrounded with other joys. Right now, I believe He is trying to teach me how to love more deeply and how to be more gentle with myself.
Remember in the beginning of this post I mentioned how I was frustrated with my body? I had been frustrated with all the hormones and craziness calming down after losing our baby, but then I was frustrated with being tired. Then, this week I was hit with the stomach flu of all things! My immune system was a sitting duck for any illness that walked through the front door. I have been frustrated at being ill, frustrated at having no energy, frustrated that I haven't been able to accomplish the things I typically stay on top of. But God whispered "Be Still," and here I am, being still and resting up, trying to accept the things I cannot change.
Psalm 46:10 “Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!”
God's got this, you guys. Even in the midst of confusion and frustration, He is still God and He is still being exalted. He is still using it all for His good. He will heal our hearts, our bodies, and our minds. He will lead us to do His will. All we must do is be still and know that He is our God. Here's to another week of learning and embracing this fact.
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