A Turning Point

What a difference a month can make.

Over the past several weeks, I have been learning so many lessons...lessons about the preciousness of life, about the sacredness of grief, about the value of pain and suffering, about myself as a weak and flawed human being...and most importantly, about the faithfulness of God.

At the conclusion of my last blog post, I had said that there was much more to write about.  I was hurting in a way that I had never known before.  We had just lost my father-in-law while we were still dealing with the fresh pain of losing our baby girl.  And although I feel that I have "come to terms" with it all, there are still days where I walk in confusion, disappointment and sometimes even anger.  But with each passing week, there are days where I can feel the weight of the pain lifting and other days when the pain is certainly there, but it's different than it was before. 

Over a month ago, I was also dealing with another burden of sorts that I hadn't written about.  On the day after Eddie's dad had died, while we and our family were trying to process another loss, I received an email from someone who I thought was a friend...someone whose children I had worked with at the church.  She was even one who had offered so much support to me through the early days of losing my daughter.

I'm not going to go into details about the content of the email because much of it is irrelevant to the purpose of this blog.  But one component of the message involved criticism about how I was handling the death of my daughter.  Talk about a punch in the gut.  As if it wasn't hard enough to manage through how to handle the grief that has overtaken my life these past few months, now I was being accused that my thoughts and writings through facebook and my blog were unacceptable. 

I know there was no way she could understand the pain I was experiencing, since never having lost a child herself, but I was not going to tolerate condemnation on how I was expressing my grief.  Until someone has walked in these shoes of losing a child and having to bury her body in the ground before I even had a chance to live life with her, there is no way to comprehend the insurmountable pain that comes with this type of loss.  The purpose in sharing my feelings, particularly through this blog, is not only for my own healing, but more importantly to reach out to other mothers (and fathers) who have had to deal with this same agony and heartbreak.  And, unfortunately, I am finding that losing a child due to pre-term labor, miscarriage or infant death still seems to be somewhat of a taboo subject for many.  Now fortunately, I have been blessed with an incredible support system through my family, friends and church family and have not had to deal with that.  But I have encountered some women through this journey that have had to deal with that.  There are women I know that are grieving the loss of their babies from many years ago, for the first time, by sharing in our loss of Anna.  We still live in a world that is very confused about the value of life and when it truly begins and ends.  If my words are hurtful to readers who are parents, I sincerely do not mean any harm with what I share here or even on facebook.  But, in wanting to help others going through this, I feel that it is important to be transparent in sharing some of the experiences for healing purposes.  When I read others' blogs or books about how they have dealt with the death of their child, it has brought me great comfort in knowing that I am not alone in this pain.  In fact, I greatly admire those who are willing to openly share their struggles as they continue to try and stay on the path of faith while dealing with it all.

I'm sure any of you reading this who have walked this walk know what it's like to feel isolated...maybe not because others have made you feel that way, but because you don't know how to cope with the pain while trying to be joyful with your pregnant friends who are having healthy, full-term pregnancies and happy lives with their babies all around you.  It isn't easy when you know that your mommy-friends are reluctant to be around you with their pregnant bellies and newborns because they don't want to add to your pain.  There's no way to describe how "schizophrenic" you feel when you're rejoicing with your mommy-friends in one moment and then having a nervous breakdown in the next.

But for those of you walking this journey....I know that you know.

And I want to assure you that you are not alone in that walk.  I can't stress how important it is for me to express that to you.

Over this past month, my husband and I had the great privilege of meeting some very special women who have walked and are still walking this journey.  Through a friend of mine, I heard about a grief support group, based out of Pittsburgh, named "Mothers of Angels."  This incredible group of women have all lost babies due to miscarriage, pre-term birth or infant death at birth.  Hearing their stories and how similar their journeys have been to mine and my husband's has brought so much comfort and reassurance.  I left the first meeting feeling like I was "normal" again.  I even felt like a part of my identity that I felt I had lost along the way had returned.  Listening to them speak words like, "I'm learning to live a 'new normal'" and "I want to keep my child's memory alive no matter what" echoed my own thoughts and feelings.

It amazes me how the Lord works in our lives.  Like a puzzle...fitting one piece together at a time, until it all makes sense and you see the bigger picture.  And little by little, healing continues to take over my heart and my life.  These women chose to walk through the storm instead of around it.  When we make that choice, the strength given to us is nothing short of a miracle.  And once again, the Lord proves that His grace really is sufficient.  He gives just enough light to see the next step on the path ahead of us. 

As painful as it is, I have wanted so much to face the pain and grief head on, because I want to heal.  And I know that there is only one way to healing....through the pain.  If we try to ignore it, shove it deep down or stumble around it, it always comes back to us in some way, shape or form.  And it's usually more terrible that way than it would have been to just move through it, with the Lord's help, from the start.

I found this to be true again the other day.  I met my mother-in-law and sister-in-law early one morning to go to Mass in the little town next to where Eddie and I live.  The cemetery where Anna is buried is only a few short miles from the church.  After Mass was over, I jumped in my car with all intentions of driving straight to work, when suddenly I found myself turning the car and driving toward the cemetery. 

Now, if you've read my earlier posts, you'll remember that I didn't do so well the last time I was at the cemetery.

I couldn't believe what I was doing, but I felt this strong urge to go there and visit my little girl's gravesite.  I even spoke out loud to the Lord, "But it's raining!  And I don't know if I'm ready for this yet!"

Yet, I couldn't bring myself to drive anywhere else in that moment. 

As I drove up the winding road into the cemetery to where Anna's gravesite was, I had butterflies in my stomach.  But the pain that I had experienced from being there before was not present. 

This time it was different.

As the rain pounded on the windshield, I pulled the car up next to where Anna's gravesite was.  I could see through the rain streaks of the driver's side window that there was something very different about her grave now.  Although I couldn't see completely clearly, I realized that her grave-marker was now there.

I got out of the car and walked over to her resting place.  Even in the cold, autumn rain, I felt this warm sense of peace come over me as I gazed at the beautiful marker on top of where we buried her tiny body only a few short months ago.  This time, there were no tears.  And I smiled.  Now it was complete. 

 

I was surprised at the peace that I felt standing there over her grave.  The Lord gave me a gift that morning.  Peace....peace that surpasses all understanding.  Only a month ago, I couldn't even walk near this site.  And now, here I was with no one else with me but my Lord.  And I was the first to see it.  It was an extraordinary moment for me.  I felt my daughter's presence and knew that she was there with me as well...giving me the strength and courage to stand there, soaking wet in the rain, and smile down upon this sacred ground.  I told her that I loved her very much and I missed her terribly.  I knew that she heard and understood.  My next thought was one that holds more value than I can describe: 

 

I knew that everything was going to be okay.