How's it going?

"There's a peace I've come to know
Though my heart and flesh may fail
There's an anchor for my soul
I can say "It is well""
Chris Tomlin - "I Will Rise"

A lot of people have been asking me how we are doing--how am I feeling physically and how are we doing emotionally. That is a hard question (sort of). Physically, I am feeling great. In fact, because the pregnancy hormones are finally out of my system, I feel more energized and perfectly healthy (no morning sickness etc). This is such a blessing because it helps me get moving during the day and I feel like I am able to accomplish things again. I also have more energy to play with Levi who is so much fun! Dan is also over his sickness and feeling better - so, yeah, physically we are GREAT!

Emotionally. humm, I have had a hard time explaining this one. However, this morning during breakfast, Levi and I were listening to Chris Tomlin's cd, "Hello Love," and heard the song "I Will Rise." The song starts out with the above quoted lyrics and I really connected with them - I felt my heart say, "THIS is how you are doing!" Grieving with hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13) is a strange feeling because, on one hand, I have been experiencing the effects of normal loss and grief; yet, on the other hand, I don't feel totally overwhelmed with sadness. I have experienced so many moments of joy during this whole process, excitement for the future, hope of what is yet to come, and peace - accepting what has happened for what it is. And yet, I sometimes have trouble sleeping at night; I still cry when I think about not meeting our little one this summer; I fight bitterness and anger and have, on a few occasions, gone down the "why me, what did I do to deserve this?" path. It is weird to have all these feelings mixed together, but that is how it is. So when people ask me, "How are you doing?" it can be difficult to respond--after all, I am healing....but I guess, even though the physical world still leaves me with pangs of sadness, my soul is anchored in a safe and quiet harbor and I can say, "It is well......I am well."

Our Grief - His Comfort

I honestly wasn't planning on blogging about the miscarriage that Dan and I experienced just this past week. I have heard many people discuss the comfort that comes in keeping this grief quiet and within a confined circle of family and friends. And I can definitely see the value in that. However, I think I am wired a little differently. I process out loud and I find rest in getting my thoughts out on the table; like the kind of feeling you have when you finally let go of a heavy secret. And for some reason, not letting others know about the miscarriage left me feeling like I had a dark secret, something hidden. And feeling like this has definitely not helped the grief process. No, I want people to know about the miscarriage--not so that we can be pitied (although the comfort we have received from others has been greatly appreciated) but so this tiny little life that has lived and died can be known in some small way to others...and to know a life existed, to me, is a way to honor that life.

We are, of course, so sad about the loss of our second child. We believe that life begins with conception and so it wasn't just a medical blooper that was discovered at the ultrasound on the 9th; it was a death. I knew before the midwife even said anything that the baby was not okay; the screen was not blinking or wiggling - it was completely still with just a tiny little marking that showed our precious baby, sleeping silently inside my womb. Laying in bed later that night, I remember telling Dan that I felt lonely and that I missed the baby - a baby who I never really knew but who had transformed from a "positive" sign on a pregnancy test into "my child."

As we started processing the miscarriage together, we talked about how pregnancies often can not continue due to genetic flaws...and if the pregnancy were to continue, would probably produce a very sick/disabled baby. And so, in some backward way, we had been given an answer to our constant prayers for "a healthy baby." God answered that prayer by not giving us a sick baby. We also recognize that our grief is shared by so many other women (and men) who have endured the same experience - that roller coaster ride of excitement and hope that free falls into grief and disappointment. And to some extent, knowing we are not alone is a comfort and also gives us perspective. After all, when 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage, millions of families are affected.

This situation has challenged me to continue to praise God through my suffering. This has been difficult as I watch others having babies and continuing on with healthy pregnancies...but it has also been empowering. To trust God enough to accept this loss and have hope for a future which is totally out of my control, is actually freeing....because this means I don't have to "make things right." I can trust God to work all things for the good and bring me out of this grief into a place of peace and joy. Suffering is a part of life - and God has never said it would be different. Instead, He has promised to walk with us through the suffering--and to give us comfort and rest. I believe this is true; we have been experiencing His comfort and guidance this week as we grieve. I guess a life without suffering would be nice; but then I guess I would not experience the full impact of God's love, mercy, comfort, and peace. Dan and I believe that earth is part of our lives for a moment but that there is eternity waiting - and I have such hope for spending every day of eternity with our little one who we will one day know fully and completely.