It’s officially been 2 weeks since the funeral now. Those words sound so strange to write or say…2 weeks since the FUNERAL. FUNERAL. It just doesn’t even sound like a word with real meaning anymore. Kind of like that scene in Black Sheep where the car is leaking Nitrous Oxide and they talk about how weird of a word ‘road’ is. RO-AD, ROOOOOAD. That’s how I feel with funeral, well, minus the Nitrous Oxide.
It’s now been more than 2 weeks since I gave birth to, held and loved, then gave my baby back. My arms ache for her. My soul misses her. What I wouldn’t give to hear her cry…or even to change a stinky diaper! I’m beginning to really come to terms with the fact that I won’t ever hear her cry, or hold her in my arms again. My daughter did not get to have an earthly life outside my womb. It sounds so final. So. Done.
I’m also dealing with the fact that I was pregnant (Boy was I!), and I gave birth, yet I have no child to care for. Does that mean that I’m not a mother? I feel some “motherly” instincts, but in some ways, children scare me. I mean, I wasn’t scared of Caroline. I wasn’t afraid of being her Mommy. But now, the thought of being around children brings some anxiety. I wonder if this is normal? I wonder if I am normal?
I’ve also had my feelings hurt at God for allowing this to happen to me and my family. I won’t say that I’ve been angry, because that isn’t really the feeling. He hurt my feelings by allowing me to love her so much, and then not allowing her to live her life here with us, her earthly family. It hurt my feelings that He felt cold in those days and nights that followed her death. It hurt my feelings that I truly couldn’t feel Him holding me during the darkest of dark times I’ve ever seen. And then I realized, He is holding me. He is comforting me. He is giving me grace for each day. He is giving me peace. Once again, it just didn’t line up with my plans. Oh, how I love to make plans for God. I love to tell God how things need to be. (I’m sure He laughs at me all the time…if not, he should)
In trying to simply “make it through” this deepest of valleys, I’ve been reading any book on the death of a child and grieving that I can get my hands on (not to mention the hundreds of blogs of women and families who have lost a child to a UCA like us). I’ve been desperately trying to find ANYTHING to offer me that comfort I felt God had for me. In reading “Safe in the Arms of God,” the author gives 8 reasons that God allows His people to go through difficult times. One of those reasons opened my eyes, made me see something that I hadn’t seen or thought at all. God had a purpose for Caroline’s life. I had prayed that His will would be done in her life, and I believed that was what I wanted. But what I truly wanted was MY PLAN mixed with God’s for her life. God simply had HIS PERFECT plan for her, and that trumped my earthy, selfish plan for her. Now, does that make me miss her any less? NOT AT ALL. But does it offer me a quiet peace? Yes.
So, for today, I am going to hold on to that little bit of peace. I’m going to keep missing my girl, and will forever, but at least I have a little peace.
BTW, happy Friday to all of those still going about “normal” lives!
I just now saw your blog. I have started at the earliest post and will read chronologically, thus I'm here on the second entry. I don't know if this is an answer, and knowing that you've been blessed since writing this entry I'm not trying to stir any sort of emotions negative or otherwise. With that being said you said something that always sparks a thought for me.
ReplyDelete"He hurt my feelings by allowing me to love her so much, and then not allowing her to live her life here with us, her earthly family."
I've not dealt with the loss of a child, but I've lost close friends at tender ages and have recently seen the impact of losing a parent at a young age. For some reason the thought of "how can God let me love so much and then take them away" always leads me to a weird situation where I think is it really possible for me to love as much as God loves? I quickly answer myself and say it's not possible, I likely can't even begin to realize how strong his love is and then I realize that he gave his son up knowingly and without hesitation for us. It may not be comforting, or even a comparable example, but it hits me in ways I never thought I could be hit. I don't have a child myself, but I know I wouldn't be able to knowingly and willingly sacrifice one. Yet that’s exactly what God did and it was because of love that he did it. I guess I’m not writing this for any real reason other than to try and plant that seed which has so far really given me comfort in times of mourning. That despite all the pain I feel knowing I could never express or possess the type of love God gives, how much pain he must be in at the same time I hurt. Because he loves all his children not just those that live long lives and let him into their heart, but even those who spit on his name he still loves them; and it’s with a love that I cannot even fathom.