Lessons in Grief, Part Two

I feel so fragile today. I always forget this happens every summer around this time. The distance from Christmas to now is mercifully long, and reminders of our precious losses are fewer as the weather becomes warm and the days become long. Until now, my focus has been on finishing up math with our home schooled teenager. And since I've recently been forced to give up cleaning houses because of some injuries, there's been a lot of focus on physical rest and healing and finances and the huge changes that have come with my husband finally getting a new job that he loves.

But now, things are beginning to settle into a new normal. There is more time to think, and to feel. And I find myself feeling so much. It's like waking up from blissfully restful anesthesia to an excruciating reality. Just because what was done while you were asleep was meant to heal, it still hurts like hell.

Every year around this time, the birthday parties begin. Last weekend, it was a pool party. As our little friend opened her presents, I sat at a distance and watched as fifteen beautiful children, my son included, oohed and ahhed over each gift. And my heart suddenly remembered Poppy. Our red headed girl. She would have been three this August. After we lost her, there was Eva, named after a mighty warrior woman. Had she survived, she would have been two this August.

From that moment at the party until now, my heart has remembered. The joy of finding out I was pregnant. The excitement over answered prayers. That feeling of starting out on a long and unknown adventure. And the abrupt end to it all. The bleeding. The hospital. The terrible loss on Christmas, two years in a row. And all the questions that followed. I miss them so much, our babies we never even got to hold. It's so easy to revisit all that sorrow. And it's tempting to stay there.

But one thing I've learned recently is that yes, feelings are real, but they are not always the TRUTH. I must hold every thought captive and make it obey Christ. (2 Corinthians 5:10) Jesus tells me that I am His (Isaiah 43:1), that I am dearly loved (John 3:16, Romans 5:8, Ephesians 2:4-5), and that He will take care of everything that concerns me (Matthew 10:29-31).  He tells me that He is close to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18) . He tells me that nothing takes Him by surprise and that there is a plan and a purpose for me. (Jeremiah 29:11)  I must choose to look at our loss through the lens of His love or I will not survive this pain.

While my sorrow is deep and debilitating at moments, I can choose to find the joy in it. Here are some truths that override my feelings:

*My babies never experienced fear or loss or pain. They died in the safest, most peaceful place in the world-their mother's womb. They will never bleed or cry or grieve. They got to skip all the crappy stuff of life and go straight to the arms of Jesus. My heart rejoices for them!

*My mother, who passed away last November, is with my sweet babies. She got to meet them and know them first. What an honor! And they were there waiting to welcome her into eternity. How that comforts me!

*Even though I haven't seen them yet, those babies are eternal souls, just like me, and we will be together again. They have personalities, gifts, likes and dislikes, just like every other human being. They are just as real as you and me.

*Just because we lost them doesn't mean they're not ours. God chose us to be their parents. We were the only two people in the world who could have created those two beautiful souls.

*Our losing them doesn't mean we did something wrong. It may have had nothing at all to do with us. It may have been to save them from something terrible. Now, we will know they're always safe.

I can grieve and choose joy at the same time. My heart hurts because it didn't get what it wanted when it wanted it. But joy is not a feeling like sorrow or sadness. It is a choice, and it's not mutually exclusive of feelings. Thank God for His truth! Rejoice in the Lord always. And again I say rejoice! (Philippians 4:4)