Casey and I attended Nancy and David Guthrie's retreat a little over a week ago. I have not had the chance to write about it, but Ruth, a wonderful mom we met at the retreat, blogged the experience here pretty well.
Monday, September 10, 2012
The Empty Space
We felt it deeply today.
That hole in our hearts.
The constant feeling of dread as if we forgot something really important.
Sometimes I call it the empty space. The place she should be.
Sitting next to her big brother for family photos. On my chest in her wrap as we strolled through the amusement park. Winning smiles and hand claps from perfect strangers and doting grandparents.
I see her everywhere. It is amazing how the absence of someone so small can be so encompassing.
It doesn't hurt so much anymore to see babies and observe little girls with their mothers. I can even look on them and smile for a distant memory, a ghost of my lost hopes. Occasionally, however, a pair of chubby cheeks and a pink headband can cut deep into my wound and I am left a bleeding crumpled mess.
I know that people sense something amiss behind my faltering smile. It makes them uncomfortable. Sometimes I crush their sense of security and tell the truth, but usually that's not what they want to hear and I'm left feeling penitent and injured. So, I put on my game face and talk my way around it.
For instance...
Everywhere is dangerous.
I've been living in fear. A novel could be written on what frightens me. I check on Isaac at night like I did when he was an infant, just to make sure he is still breathing.
In the early days of grief I remember a terrible dream that will always haunt me. I was putting Isaac down for a nap and trying to get him to stay in bed and fall asleep while I sang him lullabies, only we were in the cemetery and his "bed" was a fresh grave.
I see death and injury at every turn. It would be easy to let fear take control of me, of my life and of my family, but what is easy is rarely what is right.
I find that I have to make a choice. I can stay at home and bar the doors and windows from the outside world and all the hurt it holds, or I can embrace my pain, look for purpose in Lilly's little life, and use it to become a better person.
So now, when the danger of being swallowed by fear and anxiety is at it's highest, I must choose to let it go.
She has changed my world. She changed me.
I am not who I was.
Our friends comment on how strong we are and often seem uncomfortable when we falter in spirit or faith.
Plainly speaking, we are not strong. We did not wish this. God did not use this to display our strength, He gives us strength by His grace because we are weak and we need Him! I have found God in the most unlikely places and have come to accept His goodness in spite of my despair. Only by His grace could I have found such strength.
Too well do I know those groans. My heart and soul lament when I feel that empty space. At times it takes every bit of my energy just to finish the grocery shopping or make it to my car after work before the darkness overtakes me, and at others I break down in front of strangers or get sent home early because I cannot function in "normal society" any more that day.
I just, miss her. In the deepest, truest form of the words.
My love is stretched on heart strings from this world to the next and I am overwhelmed with sadness when I feel the tug that reminds me that this world is not my true home.
I'm not saying that I want to scare off every old lady who asks when we plan to have more children, but I don't want to live in a world of little lies just to make sure everyone is comfortable. I think sometimes we need a little discomfort. Too long have we hushed up unpleasant news and denied our unseen children.
(It's time to #SayItOutLoud! indiegogo.com/stillproject)
My Prayer...
That hole in our hearts.
The constant feeling of dread as if we forgot something really important.
Sometimes I call it the empty space. The place she should be.
Sitting next to her big brother for family photos. On my chest in her wrap as we strolled through the amusement park. Winning smiles and hand claps from perfect strangers and doting grandparents.
I see her everywhere. It is amazing how the absence of someone so small can be so encompassing.
It doesn't hurt so much anymore to see babies and observe little girls with their mothers. I can even look on them and smile for a distant memory, a ghost of my lost hopes. Occasionally, however, a pair of chubby cheeks and a pink headband can cut deep into my wound and I am left a bleeding crumpled mess.
I know that people sense something amiss behind my faltering smile. It makes them uncomfortable. Sometimes I crush their sense of security and tell the truth, but usually that's not what they want to hear and I'm left feeling penitent and injured. So, I put on my game face and talk my way around it.
For instance...
Lady - "He's so cute, how old is he? Is he you're only one?"
Wound open, bleeding.
Me - "No we have two. Isaac is two and a half and my daughter was born in February."
Wavering smile plastered to my face. Confused smile back. As I watch her try to do the math and see the next question forming on her lips, I suddenly remember Isaac hasn't gone potty for a while or I really need to show Casey something across the shop.
Everywhere is dangerous.
I've been living in fear. A novel could be written on what frightens me. I check on Isaac at night like I did when he was an infant, just to make sure he is still breathing.
In the early days of grief I remember a terrible dream that will always haunt me. I was putting Isaac down for a nap and trying to get him to stay in bed and fall asleep while I sang him lullabies, only we were in the cemetery and his "bed" was a fresh grave.
I see death and injury at every turn. It would be easy to let fear take control of me, of my life and of my family, but what is easy is rarely what is right.
I find that I have to make a choice. I can stay at home and bar the doors and windows from the outside world and all the hurt it holds, or I can embrace my pain, look for purpose in Lilly's little life, and use it to become a better person.
So now, when the danger of being swallowed by fear and anxiety is at it's highest, I must choose to let it go.
7 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. 8 So do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner. Rather, join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God. 9 He has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, 10 but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus, who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel. 11 And of this gospel I was appointed a herald and an apostle and a teacher. 12 That is why I am suffering as I am. Yet this is no cause for shame, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day. (2 Timothy 1:7-12 NIV)
She has changed my world. She changed me.
I am not who I was.
Our friends comment on how strong we are and often seem uncomfortable when we falter in spirit or faith.
Plainly speaking, we are not strong. We did not wish this. God did not use this to display our strength, He gives us strength by His grace because we are weak and we need Him! I have found God in the most unlikely places and have come to accept His goodness in spite of my despair. Only by His grace could I have found such strength.
[God] said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ ....For when I am weak, then I am strong” (See 2 Corinthians 12:9-10)
...the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. (Romans 8:26)
Too well do I know those groans. My heart and soul lament when I feel that empty space. At times it takes every bit of my energy just to finish the grocery shopping or make it to my car after work before the darkness overtakes me, and at others I break down in front of strangers or get sent home early because I cannot function in "normal society" any more that day.
I just, miss her. In the deepest, truest form of the words.
My love is stretched on heart strings from this world to the next and I am overwhelmed with sadness when I feel the tug that reminds me that this world is not my true home.
Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your Hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God (Psalm 42:5)Sometimes I just need to talk about Lilly because she is still my daughter, even if you cannot see her.
I'm not saying that I want to scare off every old lady who asks when we plan to have more children, but I don't want to live in a world of little lies just to make sure everyone is comfortable. I think sometimes we need a little discomfort. Too long have we hushed up unpleasant news and denied our unseen children.
(It's time to #SayItOutLoud! indiegogo.com/stillproject)
My Prayer...
Lord, give me the courage to speak your truth and shine with your light, despite the darkness that surrounds me. Though at times I feel dead, help me to live on through you. Fill in the empty spaces in my life as only you can and give me the strength to endure till I can finally be with you and my beautiful baby girl again. I cannot fathom your ways Lord, but I love you for you have shown your love for me.
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