It has been ONE month since we said hello and goodbye to Promise.
The world has gone on, and...so have we, strangely.
What else can we do?
I shared last night with Jason about how sometimes the emotions of missing Promise and all that was lost, are overwhelming.
Every time I see a "big sister" or "little sister" shirt, I feel something I didn't used to feel. Every time I see two girls playing together, I think about Lily and Promise. Every time I think about all the TIME that was lost (in the trying to conceive, in the pregnancy itself), I feel like a big chunk of my life was just omitted, with nothing to show for it. I get frustrated sometimes, but mostly just grieve all over again.
But honestly, most of the time, I'm okay.
I told Jason that I actually feel guilty that I am not more sad, or stuck in a room somewhere overcome by tears.
As I went on, upset by the fact that I was not more upset, finally Jason said to me, "Do you remember when we went to the ultrasound (when we found out there was no heartbeat)?"
I said, "Yes." I then followed up with: "That was the worst moment..." I hesitated, and then confidently said, "Yeah, that was the worst moment of my life...That was worse than the labor. I would rather go through the whole night of awkward labor again than relive hearing that 10 second life-haulting message from the doctor."
He said, "Do you remember what you did then?"
Yes. Jason and I both remember: My whole body crumpled, responding in complete collapse at the worst grief I could have imagined.
He said, "We have grieved. We will still grieve....but, like King David said when he lost his son, " Why should I fast when [the child] is dead? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him one day, but he cannot return to me.” (2 Samuel 12:23). We are sad, we do miss Promise...but God is giving us strength to continue in life, to move forward. It doesn't mean that somehow we haven't or aren't grieving enough."
God is providing the strength we need to remember Promise, but also to not be overcome by the reality of her death.
This is a gift - and I want to embrace it, rather than look for ways that it might not be right.
Maybe I am naive when it comes to grieving this kind of a loss, and maybe there are harder days to come - well, actually I know that there are. But, for now, He has sprinkled our lives with joy -- mostly through watching Lily learn and grow!
Jason reminded too that in the past, I have often allowed my joy to be squashed by feeling guilty about something that I shouldn't feel guilty about.
So, while I fully anticipate more moments of tears and longing, I am going to try to let myself be okay when I do feel joyful, or when I laugh, as these are certainly good gifts from the Lord.
Speaking of which, here is a moment of joy for which I am indeed thankful.
The world has gone on, and...so have we, strangely.
What else can we do?
I shared last night with Jason about how sometimes the emotions of missing Promise and all that was lost, are overwhelming.
Every time I see a "big sister" or "little sister" shirt, I feel something I didn't used to feel. Every time I see two girls playing together, I think about Lily and Promise. Every time I think about all the TIME that was lost (in the trying to conceive, in the pregnancy itself), I feel like a big chunk of my life was just omitted, with nothing to show for it. I get frustrated sometimes, but mostly just grieve all over again.
But honestly, most of the time, I'm okay.
I told Jason that I actually feel guilty that I am not more sad, or stuck in a room somewhere overcome by tears.
As I went on, upset by the fact that I was not more upset, finally Jason said to me, "Do you remember when we went to the ultrasound (when we found out there was no heartbeat)?"
I said, "Yes." I then followed up with: "That was the worst moment..." I hesitated, and then confidently said, "Yeah, that was the worst moment of my life...That was worse than the labor. I would rather go through the whole night of awkward labor again than relive hearing that 10 second life-haulting message from the doctor."
He said, "Do you remember what you did then?"
Yes. Jason and I both remember: My whole body crumpled, responding in complete collapse at the worst grief I could have imagined.
He said, "We have grieved. We will still grieve....but, like King David said when he lost his son, " Why should I fast when [the child] is dead? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him one day, but he cannot return to me.” (2 Samuel 12:23). We are sad, we do miss Promise...but God is giving us strength to continue in life, to move forward. It doesn't mean that somehow we haven't or aren't grieving enough."
God is providing the strength we need to remember Promise, but also to not be overcome by the reality of her death.
This is a gift - and I want to embrace it, rather than look for ways that it might not be right.
Maybe I am naive when it comes to grieving this kind of a loss, and maybe there are harder days to come - well, actually I know that there are. But, for now, He has sprinkled our lives with joy -- mostly through watching Lily learn and grow!
Jason reminded too that in the past, I have often allowed my joy to be squashed by feeling guilty about something that I shouldn't feel guilty about.
So, while I fully anticipate more moments of tears and longing, I am going to try to let myself be okay when I do feel joyful, or when I laugh, as these are certainly good gifts from the Lord.
Speaking of which, here is a moment of joy for which I am indeed thankful.
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