Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Don't pick that!!
Remember when you were little, and you got a scrape on your knee? What did your parents tell you? "Don't pick that scab, you'll leave a scar", right? I was pretty obedient, but for some reason, this was one thing I couldn't help. I wanted the scab OFF...they were just gross. But what I was left with was even worse. A wound that took forever to heal and a lovely scar afterward. Pretty.
They say that time heals all wounds. I don't know who "they" are, by the way. Just the collective "they", I guess. Anyway, I don't think that's necessarily true. It may heal OVER time, but it's not the actual time that heals them. They take longer to heal when you pick them. Pick and pick until you're left with an oozing, disgusting hole in your flesh. That's attractive. In some ways this is what I tend to do with my life. Pick at the situation I'm in until it becomes something so completely different that I don't recognize the original problem anymore. Allow things to fester until I'm so eaten up with disgust or frustration or hurt. This can't be good, I'm thinking.
The reason for all this thought would be so simple to some. I was taking pictures out of a frame and putting new ones in. It's taken me quite a while to do this, and I haven't really been ready until now. Without even thinking about it I started my task, then began to think. Then the wound started opening again. Apparently, I'm still in the "scab" stage. As the emotions and thoughts started pouring out, I kept at my task. When they wouldn't stop, I had to sit down and start writing it out.
You'd think after two years I'd be over it, right? Nah. This is one wound that time hasn't healed. See, only God has brought me through to this point. I've tried everything else though too. I've tried blocking it out...medication...staying busy...putting on my big girl panties and getting over it. Some of those things worked part of the time, but didn't really HEAL.
How do you "get over" the love in your heart for someone you've lost? How do you move on? For me, initially, it was just clinging to God. Knowing that He was the One Who could get me through those first dark, dark months. I look back and think "how in the world did we get through that??" and just know it was by His hand. Now, it just becomes a little less of an "ouchy" each day. It's weird. It's kind of like a tornado. You really don't see it coming, and it leaves lots of destruction in its wake. But you can watch it as it gets further and further away knowing it won't be coming back. You're left with a mess to clean up, but you CAN pick up the pieces. You can and you will...just one day at a time.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Remembering Andrew
Even as I begin to write this I am tearing up at the thoughts swimming through my mind. This has been a rough week. 2 years ago this last week, we lost the physical body of our unborn baby. This is one of the two or three things I don't have closure on in my life and won't until I reach heaven. This fact occurred to me this week during our garage sale of all places. I was talking with this woman whose daughter-in-law lost her daughter at the same in her pregnancy. She was able to deliver her baby, but I was not given that option. I know that it would have been difficult and painful, but I think seeing him would have helped me really grasp the idea that he's gone. Let me back up a little...
For those of you who don't know, we found out we were having a baby in March of 2007. Around 14 1/2 weeks into the pregnancy, there was a rupture in the sac and the amniotic fluid was lost. After a week of bed rest, we went to the doctor only to discover the baby had died. I remember staring at the sonogram monitor intently, searching for any sign of a heartbeat. None. The doctor didn't skip a beat..."when do you want to schedule surgery?". With no thought at all about giving birth, I scheduled the D and E. It was a year later that I realized what that actually meant as far as the procedure was concerned. Anyway, I had to wait 3 days before the surgery. We had the twins still, and they still had their weekly visit that week. While they were visiting their family, Mom and I went to La Madeline. There was a pregnant girl in line right next to me, and I remember thinking, "Don't ask me when I'm due, PLEASE!!"
The days leading up to the surgery were pretty typical. I was trying to cope the best I could and felt comforted, in an odd way, that the baby was still with me. Waiting in the hospital, the nurses, mostly male, were so kind and one even prayed for me. I knew that in a few short moments, the baby I had longed for so badly would no longer be physically with me. Going into the operating room, I felt this sudden urge to jump off the table and run. I wasn't afraid. I knew that this was it...our final earthly moments together. Oh, I knew he was gone, but he was still with me. He was safe and in the place he was supposed to have lived until time to be born. I knew that when I woke, he would be gone. I didn't want to go to sleep. I fought it until they put the mask on my face, and I could fight no longer.
When I woke up, there was no one there to hold my hand or hear me cry. The nurses were all too busy to even come when I called. My legs were aching, my head was pounding, but none of that compared to the unbelievable pain in my heart. I lay their crying with no one to hear me but God. I've never felt more alone or more helpless than at that moment.
My Mama was there in the second recovery room they took me to. I was so glad to see her. I wanted to cry and let her cry with me, but for some reason I just couldn't. Looking back, I think I had resolved to be strong and just "move on" because I had too much other stuff to do. I couldn't just sit around and mope about something I couldn't change. We finally got to leave the hospital and went home. Ruby and Rose were a great blessing during this time, because they gave so much love. The Lord knew we needed them and was faithful to let them stay through this ordeal.
The Lord had been so faithful to speak peace to my heart through His Word. At some point, though, I developed this toughness around my heart. I told a friend the other day that I think I've shut down emotionally. For so long I've thought "I don't have time to cry about this now, I'll cry about it later". My favorite line in Gone with the Wind (besides "Get offa those stayuhs, you trashy wench!") is "Oh, I'll think about that tomorrow". I've been shoving all these thoughts and emotions down, and I'm the only one who knows I have them. This is not good. We all have good and bad days, but it seems like my bad days are just hellish. I crash and burn into this angry person and lash out at the one I love most. He calls it going all "Jon and Kate plus 8" on him. Anyway, these are the times I cry out to God for reassurance that I'm not hateful, ugly, disgusting...all the things Satan throws my way at these times. He is so faithful to remind me that I'm His child...a daughter of the King, as my mom says. Nothing can snatch me out of His hand.
Well, now to finish. It was several weeks after the surgery that I got a phone call from the doctor's nurse. I was getting my hair "did" when the call came and was totally caught off guard. She very matter-of-factly informed me that it was a perfectly healthy, boy. Wow. OK, this did not help. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want more of an explanation, something to blame. There's no reason for the sac to have ruptured, really. I sat there in the stylist's chair, white as a sheet, tears streaming down my face. But, again, I forced them away and thought, "I'll cry about this later". The only problem with that mentality is that I haven't given myself that luxury. I've never really fully mourned that loss. How do I do that? How do you let go?
Oh, several months after all this, I was impressed to give the baby a name. I don't know why, but Andrew kept coming back to me. After talking to Jeremy, we decided that would be his name. About a year and half later some sweet family friends gave us a plaque to memorialize little Andrew. It has the only picture we have of him, his sonogram, and a beautiful engraved plaque with Romans 8:28 on it. I know he's in heaven with a perfectly intact body, praising the Lord and walking those golden streets. One day we'll meet, I know. I long for that day. As any mother with babies in heaven, I long for that day. It's really hard for me when I hear people say his name. I have as yet to refer to him out loud as Andrew. Hopefully one day I'll be able to say it. Hopefully one day I'll have closure.
Romans 8:28 "And we know that all things work together for good, for those who are called according to your purpose." What is the purpose of going through something like this? Hopefully I have been able to be an encouragement to others through this in being faithful even when it was so hard. Hopefully I can encourage others to talk about their joys AND their heartaches and to embrace them fully. I'm still a work in progress in this area and need all the encouragement I can get. Hopefully God will use me to witness to others and be a testament to His faithfulness.
For those of you who don't know, we found out we were having a baby in March of 2007. Around 14 1/2 weeks into the pregnancy, there was a rupture in the sac and the amniotic fluid was lost. After a week of bed rest, we went to the doctor only to discover the baby had died. I remember staring at the sonogram monitor intently, searching for any sign of a heartbeat. None. The doctor didn't skip a beat..."when do you want to schedule surgery?". With no thought at all about giving birth, I scheduled the D and E. It was a year later that I realized what that actually meant as far as the procedure was concerned. Anyway, I had to wait 3 days before the surgery. We had the twins still, and they still had their weekly visit that week. While they were visiting their family, Mom and I went to La Madeline. There was a pregnant girl in line right next to me, and I remember thinking, "Don't ask me when I'm due, PLEASE!!"
The days leading up to the surgery were pretty typical. I was trying to cope the best I could and felt comforted, in an odd way, that the baby was still with me. Waiting in the hospital, the nurses, mostly male, were so kind and one even prayed for me. I knew that in a few short moments, the baby I had longed for so badly would no longer be physically with me. Going into the operating room, I felt this sudden urge to jump off the table and run. I wasn't afraid. I knew that this was it...our final earthly moments together. Oh, I knew he was gone, but he was still with me. He was safe and in the place he was supposed to have lived until time to be born. I knew that when I woke, he would be gone. I didn't want to go to sleep. I fought it until they put the mask on my face, and I could fight no longer.
When I woke up, there was no one there to hold my hand or hear me cry. The nurses were all too busy to even come when I called. My legs were aching, my head was pounding, but none of that compared to the unbelievable pain in my heart. I lay their crying with no one to hear me but God. I've never felt more alone or more helpless than at that moment.
My Mama was there in the second recovery room they took me to. I was so glad to see her. I wanted to cry and let her cry with me, but for some reason I just couldn't. Looking back, I think I had resolved to be strong and just "move on" because I had too much other stuff to do. I couldn't just sit around and mope about something I couldn't change. We finally got to leave the hospital and went home. Ruby and Rose were a great blessing during this time, because they gave so much love. The Lord knew we needed them and was faithful to let them stay through this ordeal.
The Lord had been so faithful to speak peace to my heart through His Word. At some point, though, I developed this toughness around my heart. I told a friend the other day that I think I've shut down emotionally. For so long I've thought "I don't have time to cry about this now, I'll cry about it later". My favorite line in Gone with the Wind (besides "Get offa those stayuhs, you trashy wench!") is "Oh, I'll think about that tomorrow". I've been shoving all these thoughts and emotions down, and I'm the only one who knows I have them. This is not good. We all have good and bad days, but it seems like my bad days are just hellish. I crash and burn into this angry person and lash out at the one I love most. He calls it going all "Jon and Kate plus 8" on him. Anyway, these are the times I cry out to God for reassurance that I'm not hateful, ugly, disgusting...all the things Satan throws my way at these times. He is so faithful to remind me that I'm His child...a daughter of the King, as my mom says. Nothing can snatch me out of His hand.
Well, now to finish. It was several weeks after the surgery that I got a phone call from the doctor's nurse. I was getting my hair "did" when the call came and was totally caught off guard. She very matter-of-factly informed me that it was a perfectly healthy, boy. Wow. OK, this did not help. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want more of an explanation, something to blame. There's no reason for the sac to have ruptured, really. I sat there in the stylist's chair, white as a sheet, tears streaming down my face. But, again, I forced them away and thought, "I'll cry about this later". The only problem with that mentality is that I haven't given myself that luxury. I've never really fully mourned that loss. How do I do that? How do you let go?
Oh, several months after all this, I was impressed to give the baby a name. I don't know why, but Andrew kept coming back to me. After talking to Jeremy, we decided that would be his name. About a year and half later some sweet family friends gave us a plaque to memorialize little Andrew. It has the only picture we have of him, his sonogram, and a beautiful engraved plaque with Romans 8:28 on it. I know he's in heaven with a perfectly intact body, praising the Lord and walking those golden streets. One day we'll meet, I know. I long for that day. As any mother with babies in heaven, I long for that day. It's really hard for me when I hear people say his name. I have as yet to refer to him out loud as Andrew. Hopefully one day I'll be able to say it. Hopefully one day I'll have closure.
Romans 8:28 "And we know that all things work together for good, for those who are called according to your purpose." What is the purpose of going through something like this? Hopefully I have been able to be an encouragement to others through this in being faithful even when it was so hard. Hopefully I can encourage others to talk about their joys AND their heartaches and to embrace them fully. I'm still a work in progress in this area and need all the encouragement I can get. Hopefully God will use me to witness to others and be a testament to His faithfulness.
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