For months I've had the desire to write. I feel like I've been wrestling with myself as I type and end up throwing everything into a draft folder. Why? Because what's on my heart has just felt too heavy to share. I realize that some of my writing has been for my own processing, but the feeling has been inescapable that God wants me to share about my brokenness. So I press on, because there is healing in the truth.
At thirty years old, it'd be fair to say I've experienced the gamut of human emotion. However, losing my babies in September caught me completely off guard with a never before known depth of grief, mourning and even depression. On the morning of September 18th, I awoke to the sweet kicks of our 14 week old surviving twin. Hours later as my body began laboring, I begged God to spare our baby. I was in agony as I realized I'd have to deliver our little one long before he was ready. I wasn't ready, but God gave me such comfort. Flesh of my flesh went into the ground that day, and it has changed me. How could it not?
Initially it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I vividly remember this happening as a child on the school playground. You miss a monkey bar rail, or trip, and suddenly you're desperately gasping for air. Grief felt like a sucker punch to my lungs, and for the first few days I literally struggled to breathe. Healing increased as the days turned into weeks, and things didn't feel so terribly raw. Eventually, there were more good days than bad ones. More days doing the normal things we did before, and less days trying to muffle my sobs into a pillow, trying to keep the girls from hearing Mommy cry.
In November we became pregnant again, and I felt hope once more. A baby certainly wouldn't replace the children we'd lost, but it could bring joy and healing to our hearts. My parents had come to visit us for Thanksgiving, so when we were around the table, sharing what we were thankful for, I announced our baby due in July. Everyone was elated, then the next day, broken again as I had an early miscarriage.
A search for answers in the following month led to a diagnosis of my having a MTHFR gene mutation. This means my body can't optimally process B group vitamins on it's own. It may seem minor, but an impaired absorption of B's or folate can contribute to all kinds of health problems...including miscarriage. This discovery made it feel like my body had been betraying me, but I was still grateful for an answer. My new supplements quickly made me feel like a brand new person. I was alarmed at how good I felt in comparison to how tired and depressed I had been in the months before. What a delight to have renewed energy, feel the warmth of the sun on my face, and laugh again. It finally felt like things were going to be okay.
A couple months of supplements made me feel like we'd found the missing piece, and that it was safe to try again. I bought something to give to Andrew to help me announce that we were pregnant once more, but I hesitated. It felt too confident a thing to give when I had so little confidence to claim. I told him one evening after dinner, and as with the 5 pregnancies before, his eyes lit up with joy. He makes my heart swell. Maybe things would be different this time? We didn't know. It felt like we were holding our breath. Just a few days later, we had to part with that baby, too.
That this little one flew to Jesus during the season of Lent is significant to me. Lent is a time of reflection, of mourning, and of numbering our short days on this earth. Our lives are a vapor. The past 6 months of loss have felt like an extended season of Lent to my broken heart. What I've had to give up has felt too precious to lay down. I don't know why we've lost these little ones. And right now I have far more questions than answers.
The verses from 2nd Corinthians 1:3-5 are why I feel compelled to share this part of my story.
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of all compassion and the God of all comfort, Who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows."
As much as I would love to wrap this story up with a Hallmark ending, I can't. It's not time. Maybe like me, you're somewhere in the middle, still waiting or searching for answers, still catching your breath. Though I have been burdened by this suffering, the Lord has met me in the hardest places, and has comforted me to overflowing. He is growing me, my marriage, and our family. The old, useless bits are breaking away, and He is creating something more beautiful out of this dust. I don't know how much longer I'll be here, but it's going to be okay. He has reminded me that Lent doesn't last. Easter is coming. His resurrection abolishes death, and removes it's sting. Because of this, I have such great hope, and so can you.
