Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes while her abdominal muscles tightened, forcing an involuntary voiced breath with each glottal release. When all usable air had escaped, she'd gasp deeply and run through the whole cycle all over again. She hadn't laughed this hard in months. An evening of family game night was just the diversion she needed, though it took her a little convincing at first to participate. While looking at the faces joining her around the table she thought to herself how thankful she was to be a part of a family that knew how to laugh.
Christmas vacation was turning out to be somewhat emotional for the woman, something which she hadn't prepared herself for. She found herself reliving some of the deeper emotions that had plagued her early on and she couldn't fully understand why. Disappointment, denial, and despair had all made their rounds wearing heavy on her heart. The woman carried with her a sadness that occasionally unleashed mini crying sessions throughout the day. She had just started her period that week, so her hormones were most certainly out of whack, but she knew that couldn't have been the sole cause.
Laughter, however, managed to break her free from the depressing funk. The others' laughter only fueled her own. The longer it continued, the lighter her soul became, as if to disperse little stress relief bubbles throughout her entire body, indeed so proving the time tested saying: a joyful heart is good medicine.
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grief. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Part 26: Circle of Thanks
The woman held the white styrofoam cup with two hands and looked down at the red sparkling grape juice inside. The fizz was drowned out by the sound of her little niece and nephew playing on the floor. She sat beside her husband, amongst her family who had gathered together in the living room forming a large, not quite-so-perfect circle. It was time for the Thanksgiving tradition where everyone would go around and take turns sharing what they were thankful for. After each monologue, the group would raise their cups saying "Here, here!" and "Praise the Lord!" This year, the woman didn't want to be thankful. She wanted to disappear. Unfortunately, her absence would most definitely be noticed, so she had no choice but to stay and participate.
Her grandfather opened the ceremony with a story. Eighty years of wisdom colored each spoken word as he shared a testament of God's faithfulness to him over the past year. "A year ago I was told that I needed to get a new roof," he began. "It was going to cost 7000 dollars. I had no idea who would help me do the work or how I would get the money to pay for it, so I prayed."
He continued by telling how he diligently saved a little each month in preparation for the expense and kept on praying over the course of the year. Fall came around and he managed to find eight people who were willing to help with the project. A few weeks before they started, he received an unexpected letter in the mail stating he had 3500 dollars worth of stock, which he cashed in to help pay for the expense. When it was all said and done, the entire project cost came out to 3500 dollars--half of what the original cost was supposed to be and exactly the worth of the stock he had just sold!
"The point is," he said, "God answers prayer. He doesn't always do it when we want it or how we might expect, but He always answers. Sometimes we have to just be patient and wait on His perfect timing."
The words "patient" and "wait" resonated in her mind as if someone had just hit a gong. She reflected on her situation. She desperately wanted to accept the message and believe she was experiencing perfect timing—no matter how imperfect it felt—but pain from the past few months had jaded her perspective. It coated the truth of her grandfather's words with a shell of bitterness. The truth was in her mind, but she would have to crack through the shell in order to truly receive it.
And so the circle of thanks began. One by one family members listed off the many things they were grateful for. Closer and closer her turn approached. She tried to think of what she could say. Everything she thought of only reminded her of what she couldn't be thankful for—a baby on the way. The cold fact was further etched in the stone of her mind as her brother-in-laws relayed how thankful they were for their children. Her husband's turn soon followed. I guess I'm thankful he gets to go first, she thought to herself.
"As you all know, we've had some trying times come our way recently, but through it all we still have things to be thankful for," he began. "None the least being that we live in Rochester, home of the Mayo Clinic..."
He began to choke up. Her stubbornness held on as she fought back tears, but his warm, genuine words were quickly thawing her frozen heart. She grabbed his hand.
"...and they've been doing their best to get her better..."
His composure was quickly failing, as was the woman's ability to control her tears, and no one said a word. In attempt to contain the situation, divert attention elsewhere, and fill awkward silence, she held up her styrofoam cup and said, "Praise the Lord!"
"Praise the Lord!" the room responded.
It was now her turn. She opened her mouth, ready to quickly recite her pre-planned statement and pass the baton, but she couldn't speak. The dam holding back her emotions had been cracked during her husband's speech and by now it had lost its integrity. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She apologized for crying and as she regained her composure, she noticed the room was no longer quiet. Others had started to cry and sniffles came from all sides. It was then that she realized she was not alone in her pain. Her burden had been spread across the shoulders of those she loved most and they were walking alongside her every step of the way. How could I have been so blind, so foolishly hard-hearted? she thought. Thank you, God, for my loving husband and loving family.
Her grandfather opened the ceremony with a story. Eighty years of wisdom colored each spoken word as he shared a testament of God's faithfulness to him over the past year. "A year ago I was told that I needed to get a new roof," he began. "It was going to cost 7000 dollars. I had no idea who would help me do the work or how I would get the money to pay for it, so I prayed."
He continued by telling how he diligently saved a little each month in preparation for the expense and kept on praying over the course of the year. Fall came around and he managed to find eight people who were willing to help with the project. A few weeks before they started, he received an unexpected letter in the mail stating he had 3500 dollars worth of stock, which he cashed in to help pay for the expense. When it was all said and done, the entire project cost came out to 3500 dollars--half of what the original cost was supposed to be and exactly the worth of the stock he had just sold!
"The point is," he said, "God answers prayer. He doesn't always do it when we want it or how we might expect, but He always answers. Sometimes we have to just be patient and wait on His perfect timing."
The words "patient" and "wait" resonated in her mind as if someone had just hit a gong. She reflected on her situation. She desperately wanted to accept the message and believe she was experiencing perfect timing—no matter how imperfect it felt—but pain from the past few months had jaded her perspective. It coated the truth of her grandfather's words with a shell of bitterness. The truth was in her mind, but she would have to crack through the shell in order to truly receive it.
And so the circle of thanks began. One by one family members listed off the many things they were grateful for. Closer and closer her turn approached. She tried to think of what she could say. Everything she thought of only reminded her of what she couldn't be thankful for—a baby on the way. The cold fact was further etched in the stone of her mind as her brother-in-laws relayed how thankful they were for their children. Her husband's turn soon followed. I guess I'm thankful he gets to go first, she thought to herself.
"As you all know, we've had some trying times come our way recently, but through it all we still have things to be thankful for," he began. "None the least being that we live in Rochester, home of the Mayo Clinic..."
He began to choke up. Her stubbornness held on as she fought back tears, but his warm, genuine words were quickly thawing her frozen heart. She grabbed his hand.
"...and they've been doing their best to get her better..."
His composure was quickly failing, as was the woman's ability to control her tears, and no one said a word. In attempt to contain the situation, divert attention elsewhere, and fill awkward silence, she held up her styrofoam cup and said, "Praise the Lord!"
"Praise the Lord!" the room responded.
It was now her turn. She opened her mouth, ready to quickly recite her pre-planned statement and pass the baton, but she couldn't speak. The dam holding back her emotions had been cracked during her husband's speech and by now it had lost its integrity. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She apologized for crying and as she regained her composure, she noticed the room was no longer quiet. Others had started to cry and sniffles came from all sides. It was then that she realized she was not alone in her pain. Her burden had been spread across the shoulders of those she loved most and they were walking alongside her every step of the way. How could I have been so blind, so foolishly hard-hearted? she thought. Thank you, God, for my loving husband and loving family.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Part 23: Triggers
As time went on, the woman settled into this new chapter in her journey. Life went on just like it used to. In the beginning, she worried that seeing pregnant ladies might be the most difficult for her. They were everywhere. Her sister was pregnant. Her close friends were pregnant. Gals at work were pregnant. Ladies at church were pregnant. Her facebook friends were pregnant. Oddly enough these reminders in and of themselves were not as discouraging as she had originally thought—as long as she stuck to her mental attack plan. She reasoned with herself that had her circumstances been any different, she would still be happy and excited for all these women. Why should it be any different now?, she thought. Sometimes she was successful, other times she wasn't, but at least she was ready. Every once in awhile, however, when she least expected it, something would happen that triggered a memory or resurfaced a feeling reminding her of her loss.
The couple had been finishing their basement that fall, one of her necessities on their life plan before starting a family. As they gave a tour to their friends of the recently drywalled space, the woman started sharing her plans for the living areas.
"We'll put the futon right here. The desk from upstairs will go in this corner. We'll move the bed from the upstairs office to one down here..." But then it hit her. They were going to move all the stuff out of the extra room upstairs to make room for a nursery—a nursery that was no longer needed. The thought saddened her for a moment, but then she was just perplexed. She hadn't even thought about what now to use the room for instead.
One time she went to the fridge looking for something to snack on. She spotted some olives, took them out and dished them onto her plate. The savory flavor filled her mouth. But then it hit her. She was eating the same olives that she had eaten during that first and only normal week of her pregnancy.
Another time she was talking to her pregnant sister.
"Do you want me to save some of my maternity clothes that are too big for me?" her sister asked.
"Sure! That would be wonderful!" she thankfully replied thinking how great it was to get some free clothes, even if it she didn't need them right now. But then it hit her. She began to cry. She would have needed them in a few months, but now it would be a long while before they'd be useful.
Yet another time she was writing on an online message board to encourage another gal who was experiencing the same disease on a time-line similar to hers. She pulled up a calendar to see which exact day she had first learned of her pregnancy. It was the last Friday in July. She looked at the number thirty. And then it hit her. At one point in time she was pregnant and happy about it, naive to the risks of it all, but that was a long time ago.
In the midst of these moments, she was at peace. As sad as the triggers were, they were comforts along her road to recovery. Their presence signified the passing of time, the acceptance of her lot, and the healing of her broken heart.
The couple had been finishing their basement that fall, one of her necessities on their life plan before starting a family. As they gave a tour to their friends of the recently drywalled space, the woman started sharing her plans for the living areas.
"We'll put the futon right here. The desk from upstairs will go in this corner. We'll move the bed from the upstairs office to one down here..." But then it hit her. They were going to move all the stuff out of the extra room upstairs to make room for a nursery—a nursery that was no longer needed. The thought saddened her for a moment, but then she was just perplexed. She hadn't even thought about what now to use the room for instead.
One time she went to the fridge looking for something to snack on. She spotted some olives, took them out and dished them onto her plate. The savory flavor filled her mouth. But then it hit her. She was eating the same olives that she had eaten during that first and only normal week of her pregnancy.
Another time she was talking to her pregnant sister.
"Do you want me to save some of my maternity clothes that are too big for me?" her sister asked.
"Sure! That would be wonderful!" she thankfully replied thinking how great it was to get some free clothes, even if it she didn't need them right now. But then it hit her. She began to cry. She would have needed them in a few months, but now it would be a long while before they'd be useful.
Yet another time she was writing on an online message board to encourage another gal who was experiencing the same disease on a time-line similar to hers. She pulled up a calendar to see which exact day she had first learned of her pregnancy. It was the last Friday in July. She looked at the number thirty. And then it hit her. At one point in time she was pregnant and happy about it, naive to the risks of it all, but that was a long time ago.
In the midst of these moments, she was at peace. As sad as the triggers were, they were comforts along her road to recovery. Their presence signified the passing of time, the acceptance of her lot, and the healing of her broken heart.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Part 19: Goodbyes
"What should we do for the service?" the woman asked her husband. She wondered if he thought it strange that she wanted a service in the first place. Her husband seemed okay with it, so she didn't worry too much about it. As they discussed the details, the woman made some notes.
"This looks good!" she said smiling. "It will be a wonderful service."
Just then a faint emotion stirred within her and began to crescendo. Before she knew it tears were filling her eyes and she started to sniffle. At last an audible cry emerged.
The woman's husband took her in his arms and comforted her. "Just let it out," he said in a warm voice.
While she had cried different times over the past couple weeks, it had been about other things—the stress, her condition, the long road ahead. This was the first cry in awhile that actually grieved the loss of her pregnancy, yet it felt just as fresh as the first time and emotionally it was just as hard.
The cool Sunday morning air filled her lungs as she made her way to the backyard where she found her husband standing by the small spruce tree. Sunshine settled upon the tiny hole beneath the lower branches he had dug just moments before in preparation to receive the package she held in her hand wrapped in a white napkin.
Together they stood looking down at the site, the wind blowing and the sound of passing cars traveling along the nearby country road resonating in the distance. They began to sing:
How great is our God.
Sing with me, how great is our God.
And all will see how great, how great is our God.
Sing with me, how great is our God.
And all will see how great, how great is our God.
She placed the tiny package into the small hole. After each shared a few words, the husband closed in a prayer.
“Dear Lord, we thank you for the gift of each other and for this pregnancy. Even though it wasn't a baby, it was still special. We pray for healing in the months ahead—spiritually, emotionally, and physically—so that someday we can try again and be blessed with a baby.”
With a small spade they took turns covering the newly filled space with a mixture of soil and wood chips. Every spade-full finalized reality. Dreams of starting a family, caring for a baby of their own, passing on the many things they wish to teach, and enjoying God's gift of a new person had been postponed. They offered up one more moment of silence, then turned and together walked away.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Part 18: The Delivery
It was just like any other Saturday morning. She awoke at her normal time while her husband lay sleeping under the mound of covers. He would be there till at least 9:30 a.m., to the detriment of the woman, of course. An early morning chat with her husband over coffee was her Saturday morning dream, a dream, unfortunately, crushed every week. Alternatively, she knew his dream was to sleep in, and somehow she worked up the weekly discipline to restrain herself from harassing him awake before the allotted time...most Saturdays, anyway.
Her first stop was the bathroom.
Ummm...that was weird.
The woman had passed clots before, and large ones at that, but this did not feel like a clot. Peering into the toilet she saw a dark shadow resting at the bottom. Curiosity got the best of her and she fished it out.
Upon further examination, the woman determined that what she had in her possession was indeed the mass from inside her uterus. It measured a little over 3.5 cm in length, just like what the doctor explained from her ultrasound a week and a half earlier.
She hurried to the bedroom.
"Honey," she whispered nudging her husband hoping he wouldn’t mind too much. "I think I just passed the tissue."
Looking at her with tired eyes he acknowledged the situation and lovingly rolled out of bed to take a look.
"Yeah, that definitely looks different than a clot," he confirmed, still a bit groggy.
They deliberated the meaning of it all, wondering, perhaps, if it was a good sign for things to come. Little did they know it would mark the end to two and a half months of the woman's bleeding. They questioned what to do with the the tiny mass. After a few moments of silence, the woman replied saying, "I think I'd like to have a funeral."
Her first stop was the bathroom.
Ummm...that was weird.
The woman had passed clots before, and large ones at that, but this did not feel like a clot. Peering into the toilet she saw a dark shadow resting at the bottom. Curiosity got the best of her and she fished it out.
Upon further examination, the woman determined that what she had in her possession was indeed the mass from inside her uterus. It measured a little over 3.5 cm in length, just like what the doctor explained from her ultrasound a week and a half earlier.
She hurried to the bedroom.
"Honey," she whispered nudging her husband hoping he wouldn’t mind too much. "I think I just passed the tissue."
Looking at her with tired eyes he acknowledged the situation and lovingly rolled out of bed to take a look.
"Yeah, that definitely looks different than a clot," he confirmed, still a bit groggy.
They deliberated the meaning of it all, wondering, perhaps, if it was a good sign for things to come. Little did they know it would mark the end to two and a half months of the woman's bleeding. They questioned what to do with the the tiny mass. After a few moments of silence, the woman replied saying, "I think I'd like to have a funeral."
Friday, November 5, 2010
Part 11: Conversation with God
“What are you doing, God? How could you let this happen? And why me? There are so many women with unwanted pregnancies, but I wanted this, Lord! You know I want to be a mother! I have been waiting so long to start trying for a family and now I’m going to have to wait an indefinite amount of time longer! I have been planning and preparing as much as I possibly could for the last 3 1/2 years!”
My dear child, in your heart you plan your course, but I determine your steps.
“Well, my course was a pretty good one, God. We paid off all our debts but the house. I stopped taking birth control for six months to make sure there wouldn’t be any interference when we started trying. My husband finally came around without me nagging, which was nothing short of a miracle, and after three months of trying we finally got pregnant. We were all set. Our basement would be all finished by the time the baby arrived. Nine months and it would have been fine. But, no. You took it all away before anything even began. From the very moment of conception this was hosed and You knew this would happen before I was even born! Thanks for the warning!”
I love you, my child. I know the plans I have for you—plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. I cause everything to work together for good. In time, you will see.
“Well, it certainly doesn’t feel very hopeful right now. And logically I don’t see anything good about the fact that this whole thing keeps getting worse and worse. I could handle a miscarriage. I could handle getting surgery. But I can’t handle this never ending unknown of what is going on inside my body. I have absolutely no control over this. It’s just too much!”
Without Me, you can do nothing, my child. Come to me. You are weary and carry heavy burdens. Give Me your burdens. I will take care of you and give you rest.
“I’m scared, Lord. What if this gets even worse? What if these cells are spreading? What if I get cancer? What if I can never conceive again?”
Be strong, my child. Do not be afraid or discouraged. I am with you. Do not worry. Come to Me with your needs and My peace which exceeds anything you can understand will guard your heart and mind as you live in Christ Jesus. I will never leave you nor forsake you. Trust in Me.
“I'm sorry, Lord. I know You care. I know You love me. I believe You’re in control and that You will take care of me through all of this. Forgive me for my unbelief. Even though I cannot see exactly what You’re doing and I certainly don’t understand it all, I will trust You, Lord. Please give me faith to trust You more. Take my worries, my cares, and my life. Use it for Your glory. I need You so much. ”
Friday, October 22, 2010
Part 4: Something Normal
“I believe what I’m seeing here is the sac and this would be the fetal pole,” the ultrasound technologist reported, as he zoomed in to show the couple a closer look. “But this does not look normal to me. Considering you are eight weeks along, it should have been much bigger by now.”
The couple then moved to another room to discuss the situation with the doctor. While they waited, a spirit of relief calmed them.
“Well, at least they finally found something,” the woman said to her husband. “I don’t mind being told I’m abnormal as long as there is something normal in there somewhere!”
The doctor finally arrived. He explained to them that it was indeed a miscarriage and that he believed that the bleeding she was experiencing was caused by a detachment of the placenta form the uterine wall. He discussed with them the options available to deal with the miscarriage. The couple decided to forego intervention methods and let it happen naturally.
“How long do you anticipate until this miscarriage will occur?” the woman asked.
“Based on the amount of blood in your uterus, I would imagine it would happen in the next few days,” the doctor replied. “Be sure to make an appointment after it happens so we can make sure you’re okay.”
“If it doesn’t happen as you say, how long should we wait before seeing you again?” the husband asked.
“If in two weeks you still haven’t miscarried, come back in,” the doctor said.
The couple left, and as they drove back home the woman could not help but relive the car ride from two weeks prior. Another dose of bad news, she thought. This is really happening. This pregnancy did not work out.
She grieved.
She grieved.
Fears about the miscarriage plagued her mind. How bad will it hurt? What if it happens while I’m at work? How do I move past this? She sent up a prayer for strength and courage to make it few the next few days, resting in the peace that followed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)