Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Going Public With Our Grief

I've done a lot of crazy things that most people would find terrifying...
Backpacked through Ireland with no money on arrival and no place to stay
Walked myself to a public transit station at five in the morning in foreign countries
Gone running alone through informal settlements
Stayed with complete strangers
Been picked up by complete strangers with no more than a character reference to base trust on
Hitchhiked
Moved to new places with hardly any details in place
And so many more ridiculously reckless stories from my vagabond missionary days... Yet today, today was the most terrifying thing I've ever faced.

      Joshua and I found out we were expecting several weeks back and it seemed like everything was going perfectly. We followed all the rules, set up appointments, and did our best to keep quiet. A handful of close friends knew what was going on (certain things were hard to hide) but we were trying to be "proper" and wait until second trimester before it was public knowledge. A few who knew even urged us to make sure we kept quiet because "things can happen" today I realize, so what?

      Yes it will be painful when people ask about the baby if they missed the memo but its also painful when they don't. It's going to be painful when I see another pregnancy announcement (not that I'm not happy for you!), it's going to be painful when people ask when we plan on starting a family, it's going to be painful when I walk by a baby at the mall, it's going to be painful to see a healthy round belly, it's going to be painful to attend baby showers, it's going to be painful to walk by a baby store, it's going to be painful to see birth announcements... It's also going to be painful to answer the common greeting of "How are you?" Things are going to be painful for awhile. I'm not okay, and I've decided something crazy... that's okay.

      We went in for our appointment at the birth center and everything looked great- physical and labs all checked out fine. I had been eager to see the baby even though the center typically only requires a 20 week ultrasound they were going to do one that day, unfortunately they were having equipment issues so I got sent over to Associates in Women's Health and that's when things began to unravel. The technician informed us that things were measuring behind and the heart rate was low and sent us over to talk with a doctor. Being pretty real here, the doctor we spoke with didn't have the best bedside manner, she informed us that the baby was likely dying and estimated a 3% chance of survival then wanted to discuss "options" right away. Later that day the center we had started our care at contacted us- the doctor who started it wanted to see us tuesday rather than making us wait a full two weeks for the follow up and so we waited. The last week has been a whirlwind of emotions. Grieving, and feeling like the grief may be premature, attempting to act normal, praying like crazy, struggling to function and desperately seeking hope.

      Today we hoped that somehow things would turn out alright, that by some miracle our baby would still be joining the family in March. Today we found out the heart had stopped.

      I am plagued with so many questions, and yes I know most of them are ridiculous and irrational... I KNOW there wasn't anything I could've done, but knowing and believing are two different things. It's just going to take time. There's something deeply painful about seeing your baby's heart beat... knowing it's ALIVE only to find out later that at some point it died... it died and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Not only that, somehow the baby died and I didn't know...

      We live in a culture where so much is conveyed through social media, people celebrate and share. In the world of internet you can be whoever you want. We select the pictures that make us look the best, show the world around us how fun and exciting our lives are... but is that truly our life? Life gets messy, sometimes the unexpected takes us by surprise... sometimes it really really hurts.

I realized I couldn't act like I was fine, nor should I have to. I can't pretend nothing happened and decided that if my Facebook friends can browse my wedding pictures and celebrate life with me they can also know that today my heart is broken.

What is this?
The worst day of my life
A death in our family
The loss of hope of what could have been

This mattered to us, it will always matter to us. We cherished the time our baby was with us, regardless of how long it was. Earlier this week we'd decided to name the baby... acknowledging that regardless of the outcome, this was significant to us. We poured over scripture, seeking comfort and Mark 5, especially where Jesus raised the little girl from the dead had resonated with us. He says to the people "Do not fear, only believe" and against all odds raised her up saying Talitha Cumi, which means Little girl, arise... Then as we prayed over this child we prayed the fathers victory over her life, and so chose "Kelilah" which means victorious...Talitha Kelilah, you will always hold a place in our hearts.

6 comments:

  1. It is very hard to find words to express feelings after such a loss. You have done an incredible job of putting into words the pain that not only you and Joshua are dealing with now, but one that our family is all having to cope with. Love you both, forever and always

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  2. I'm truly sorry for the loss that you and your husband are experiencing. Earlier this summer an acquaintance of mine had a still birth and my family has personally been touched by multiple miscarriages. I cannot imagine the grief that you are going through but I must thank you for your transparency. If we look to people to rejoice with us then we should also feel ok with looking to others to help us bear our burdens. That's why two oxen are put to plow...it eases the load. I am praying for you guys.

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  3. So so sorry to hear about this. I will be keeping you in my prayers.

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  4. Our heart grieves along with you and your family. We know you little one is dancing in heaven with Jesus awaiting the day she can be joined with you and Josh. Keep doing the great work that you do as it puts a smile on her face; your Savior also!

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  5. Sharing life with people means sharing the joys and the sorrows. How else can people support you? Many others have a experienced a similar loss and have kept silent. There is no shame in such a loss. It will forever be a part of who you are and how you love.

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  6. Oh joy! My heart breaks with yours. I've seen you go through some tough stuff, but I'm sure this does not compare. Praying for you and Joshua. Much love.

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