“This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be
glad in it.” -Psalm 118:24
One year ago today, I woke up feeling like something
terrible happened. Something was wrong. My worst fear was confirmed a few short hours
later in an ultrasound room. I lay on the
table, staring at the screen, taking in the picture of a perfectly formed
little baby, only to hear the doctor say, “there’s no heartbeat.” And my world crashed.
I knew the anniversary of this sad day was coming, and I was
preparing myself for the grief, the heartache, the anger. I can go there so easily, still a year later.
I can go there so quickly,
even with another amazing blessing in my arms.
I can stay there so long in my
own strength.
But we have choices.
And while grief is a very real thing that does not need to be sped up, a
time comes when we must learn to lead our emotions instead of letting our
emotions lead us.
On October 8, 2013, we found out we would never hear our
precious baby’s cries. On October 10,
2013, on my 32nd birthday, I delivered her in our home. I will never forget that day. I was able to see her fingers and her
toes. And at just 13 weeks gestation,
she was a perfect creation. I will never
forget her. I will never forget the love
mixed with pain that I experienced that evening. I was forever changed.
I remember telling my family that we were not celebrating my
birthday…ever again. I remember getting
angry that my favorite season of the year was riddled with so much pain, this
loss and losses in the past. I remember
thinking that I just wanted to be numb and pretend that nothing had ever
happened. I really, truly wanted to be
cool and aloof about the whole process.
I mean, the baby was only a tiny little thing. We only knew about her for about 3
months. We had only heard her heartbeat
once. We had only seen her on an
ultrasound that day we discovered she was gone.
But the truth is, once that line turns pink, there is a bond that forms
that is strong. It’s called love. And what I learned in October 2013 is how
strong love is.
Love is so strong that it can undo us in the blink of an
eye. It can derail us overnight. It can cause us to be bonded to someone whom
we’ve never met. It can affect the way
we eat, sleep, and exist.
I could write on and on about miscarriage. I could go on and on about how it’s such a
violation of a mother’s body, soul, and spirit.
I could describe the stages of grief in light of losing such a small
baby. I could tell you the ugly, awful
details of my lowest points and the exhilarating moments when I felt His
nearness.
The truth is, I am still grieving. I still wonder every day what that baby would
have looked like, been like. I wonder
how our family would have welcomed her.
I wonder what she would have been destined for. I wonder why she was taken so early.
But I believe that this
is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it. I have learned that life is a gift. Every day is precious. And willing ourselves to dwell in joy rather
sadness does not mean I love my precious baby any less. Since losing her, we’ve had other storms to
navigate. Even now, today, we’re
grieving something else in a very hard, real way.
We can live in grief.
Life seems to bring hard times in waves.
For us, it’s been like we’re on the shore during a violent, long storm. But I’ve learned we can sit on that shore and
let the waves draw us in, carrying us away to somewhere unrecognizable. Or we can stand, hold each other up, and hold
our ground.
This is the day
the Lord has made. And though a year ago
it was full of pain and confusion, and though it caused me spiritual,
emotional, and physical anguish, today I will rejoice. I will be glad that He
is sovereign. I will be glad that He, in
his infinite wisdom, gives and takes away.
I will be glad that He is near to the brokenhearted. I will be glad that He makes all things new,
in His time. I will be glad that He is
good. I will be glad in Him.
Though we have been blessed with a beautiful baby this past
August, he didn’t “take away” the pain we feel.
But he is a reminder that God is the author of life and that every good
and perfect gift comes from Him. That
though there is pain in the night, joy comes in the morning. That each season changes, and with it comes
beautiful and terrible things. But His
love never changes, our joy remains in Him, and He will never leave us or
forsake us.
My heart is heavy today, but I choose joy. I choose to rejoice.
My son, Micah, named our precious baby last year. He chose Mia Joy. It means “my joy.” She is a reminder that my joy comes from Him,
and only in Him will our joy be made complete.
This world has nothing for us.
But in Him our joy is made complete.
One day I will see My Joy face to face.
Until then, sweet baby, rest in Jesus’ arms.
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