Yesterday, I sent out a post that was not guided by the Holy Spirit. What I felt guided to send out was this post. However, as you read it, you will understand why it was hard for me to send out.
I have been so out of touch these past few weeks. In my desire to avoid my grief, for so many reasons, I have tried to remain normal. Honestly, I don’t think I wanted to even think about it.
I knew I was pregnant, there was no doubt in my mind. I knew we were in danger, there was no doubt in my mind. I may have not had a pregnancy test done yet, but I knew…as I knew with each of my four babies…granted on my first, I was truly clueless and it wasn’t til I heard my doctor tell me the news, that I could look back and put one and one together…ending in a great uh huh moment.
I had laid in bed as soon as the spotting started, so afraid I would lose the life I had growing inside of me. If I could have just laid there and not moved, I would have. So much going through my head, praying, asking for guidance, not knowing what to do next or who to turn to. Feeling so alone, and yet having to take care of a family. Five little faces to look at and try to put on a facade, they didn’t know and I wasn’t about to tell them…”Mom might be pregnant but your brother/sister is dying”. I could not do that. Maybe they have a right to know but at that point I couldn’t even say it to myself.
For the several weeks now, I have been dealing with the loss of the tiniest life and feeling so alone. I had only shared it with a few people, women I knew who had been there. Knowing they would understand (or I thought) and hoping for guidance, support, and love. And I did find that, to a point. Even well meaning people can say things that can leave an injured heart, bleeding again. I know it was not their intention and that their intentions were well meaning but yet the pain their words left behind isn’t easily erased. When, your heart has had to deal with an enormous wound, healing has to take time. Hearts don’t heal the same, nor do people deal the same.
Because of who I am, I deal with grief my way. The loss of this little life is/was very personal. I felt alone because I had not told anybody (except my husband), hadn’t made it official (although I didn’t need to), my children weren’t (& some aren’t) aware of what has happened. I had a hard time coming to terms with my pregnancy, I had been told by dr’s that if I were to get pregnant again, I would be risking my life. Having lost my mother at a very young age, I didn’t want my children to go through that, so I had to pray and asked God if this is what He wanted for me I would trust and accept it, as His gift. Once I came to terms, I was ready to start making it “official”, yet I was not given that chance. I know that God has a plan for all things. I am not angry (anymore).
It has been hardest on me, not being able to share my pain and to share the little life that God allowed in my life,even for a short time. Because of “innocent” remarks, I have not even told my family (sisters/bro) because I felt if these women who have suffered think I am not suffering enough for the pain to be real, what will my family think? I give them to little credit. I know my credentials are wacky at best, now that I say I am following God’s plan for my life. So many people look at me and just shake their heads. But, I can’t let their unbelief be my unbelief. My pain is true, my loss is real, my heart is still aching, MY GOD is with me. Would I like to have friends in my life I could turn to YES, but I think GOD wants me to turn to HIM. And that is hard, because I can’t hold His hand, or lay my head on His shoulders, or feel the warmth of His embrace, or hear HIS comforting words. Even though I know they are there for me.
And Jesus saith to him: If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.  And immediately the father of the boy crying out, with tears said: I do believe, Lord: help my unbelief.
Gospel of Saint Mark 9: 22-23