God met me there..

The last few years of my life have been incredibly painful… Pain that has torn at the lining of my soul. Pain that has shattered my entire existence. Pain that broke every bit of who I was and tested everything I ever believed in… And when I often I speak to people or blog about our journey, I get responses such as “you’re so strong” or “your faith is so inspiring”…

I suppose those responses may be true, but I wouldn’t personally describe myself as strong… The truth is, I haven’t fought the bad guy of child loss with a smile on my face, cape in the wind, kicking its butt like a superhero… Instead, the pain has been so much to bear, it’s brought me to my knees. I have wept from the deepest parts of my soul, lying on the floor of my child’s room, clinging to their clothes. I have been a mess of grief and loss, and there are many, many days where I’ve felt myself crumble beneath it all…

But I’ve learned that I had to redefine strong for myself… Strong is sitting in that pain, diving into the seas of despair, and learning to breathe underwater…

And our faith? My faith? Well… I think to truly understand how we got to where we are now, you have to know where I started…

I was baptized as a baby. We went to church every Sunday. I went to Sunday school, went through communion and confirmation. My husband and I got married in my church, in front of all of our family and friends, attended church most Sundays, and placed money in the collection baskets. I went through the motions, but never had to dig deep. And although I, overall, considered myself a good person, I would soon see that it wasn’t about what I did… It was about my heart and my own personal relationship with God… It would take me falling to my knees to get me to finally look up and search for something more, something deeper…

My husband and I dated, finished school, got married, bought a home and moved in together, and began our careers… I thought I did life in the order and in the way I was supposed to… So when the next step came to start a family of our own, I naturally thought that this part of my life would also go perfectly… I mean, why wouldn’t it?… So when our first child, our daughter, died in my arms… I lost it. I lost myself. I was broken. And I would never be the same… Little did I know, that that was exactly how God intended it to be. I wouldn’t be the same. I would be broken… But I would be made new. I would surrender. I would come to see and know (really know) His love, His grace and His mercy more than I ever had before. And that night was just the beginning.

I struggled deeply after her birth and death. I didn’t recognize the world around me. I didn’t recognize myself. I felt empty. Alone. There were times where I didn’t know how I would survive her loss and times where I didn’t want to. I felt like a failure. I felt guilty. My heart was in so much anguish and I couldn’t escape it.

I was on “maternity leave” for six weeks… But could still barely function when I returned to work… I didn’t know how to be myself. I didn’t want to return to the life I had before her. I would cry while getting ready in the mornings, I would cry in my car, at work, I would have panic attacks, I was barely sleeping, and being apart from my husband made things worse…

I remember him getting home from work one particular morning after a night where I had no sleep. I was so anxious for him to get home… Being alone in an empty home was not the best place for me and my thoughts. “Surely,” I thought, “when he gets home I can rest, my anxiety will be better”… But it wasn’t this day. He was home. He was in bed sleeping. And all I could do was pace around my house like a mad woman… My anxiety was suffocating me, and I ran to the room to wake him up. I told him that I couldn’t take it anymore, I couldn’t do this… He looked at me, confused, and said “Can’t do what?”… And in a panicked voice, I told him, “This, I can’t feel like this anymore, I need something to take this pain away, medicine, anything. I want to be numb. I don’t want to go through this”…

And my husband looked at me straight in my face and said no… “No. We have to go through this. But there is nothing that can take this pain away. You need to get closer to God…” He held me as I wept, promised that we would face this together, and that not only did he understand my pain, but so did God…

He wouldn’t let me throw in the towel and quit, and we started on a new journey together. We stopped our traditional routine of just simply going through the motions. We began to study parts of the Bible together in our home. We learned. We grew together in our love for one another and our love for God. Now, were we instantaneously perfect? No. We fell short at times, a lot of times. We’re human. Did the thoughts and feelings of guilt, failure, and being unworthy disappear forever? No. I still struggle with those emotions to this day. But when those thoughts creep in and I feel that sea of sorrow closely approaching, I remind myself that those thoughts are not from God. Those waves of sorrow no longer crush me, because His grace is sufficient. Did the pain of losing our daughter ever go away? No. It never would, and it never will. But that’s where God’s love and God’s grace swept me up… I no longer needed the pain to go away. I just needed Jesus. I needed to fully understand God’s love. How He loved us so much, when we were dead in our sins, that He sent His only son to die for us. I was forgiven. I was new. And it was all because of His love and mercy.

I needed to pursue God the way He pursues me…

And I learned these things slowly over time. Through each heartache. Through each loss. He would meet me over and over again. He would wait for me, His child, to come running back to Him. And I can see now, clear as day, that He has been there through it all… He met me that night in the hospital room when our daughter died. I would feel His love and His presence each day in my grief, it is as real as the love I have for my children. He would meet us one year later. He would save my life. He would give us one week with our son. He would meet us in the NICU as we watched the staff code our son right in front of us. He met us in the fertility clinic when we heard “there is no more heartbeat”. He met me after our second transfer as I heard the words “I’m sorry, the pregnancy test is negative”… He would give me peace in the unknown and strength when I was weary.

So when you see me, I pray you see more than just our loss. I pray you see how God has worked in our lives. Jesus is my savior. I know that deep in my heart. Because of Him. Because of God’s love for me. Death is not the end. Jesus conquered death. In Him, I have hope. I have peace. I have strength. He took the broken pieces of my life, used them to bring me closer to Him, and is using my life and my testimony to bring Him glory…

God met me where I was, in my most broken place… And He will meet you, wherever you are…

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” – Romans 8:28