Saturday, September 15, 2012

The Truth

When I started this blog, I had intended to use it share the joyous times my family was experiencing. Most of the posts revolved around Barrett. The last post I wrote before Barrett was born was a Pregnancy Diary. The last sentence of it said that my next post would be an 18 week update. Then, before I got the chance to write that update, my son was gone. My dreams for him were shattered in 3 words: no cardiac activity. Those three words haunt me.

When, I got home, I couldn't bear to look at that last post. In fact, since he was born, I haven't read any posts I wrote before August 23. I debated on whether I would even continue the blog. Why should I? But as I prayed, I had this nagging feeling that I needed to write. Honestly, at the time I wasn't thinking about the good it might do for anyone else. Instead, I just needed a way to get everything out of my head without that awkward conversation where the other person is searching for the right words that don't exist. Before I wrote The Post I Never Wanted to Write, I made a commitment to myself. I decided that if I was going to blog this journey, I would do it honestly and be as transparent as possible. I would share my pain, my heartache, and my joy. Little did I know that the joy would soon overtake all of the other emotions I felt.

When people started to contact me, I vowed to answer their questions with complete honesty about the storm we were walking through. Today, I had a question that made me stop dead in my tracks. The subject line just said question. That wasn't unusual, but the question itself was unlike any other I've answered.

Several times today I have posted on here and on Facebook that my God never changes. He is always the same. I posted that because of the question that was asked of me today.


How do you trust in a God who allowed your son to die?

I wasn't sure how I should respond to this. As I sat here staring at the question, I broke. For the first time in a few days, I had a good, long cry.

I don't know exactly why this question hit me like it did. I can't explain that. All I know is that it really got me thinking.

The people closest to me would tell you that I am a pretty independent person. I have a really hard time asking for help. I will do whatever I need to do to get something done on my own. Those few minutes on that ultrasound table waiting for the doctor to come back were the most humbling three minutes of my life. My child was in trouble and there was nothing that I could do about it. I had no choice but to ask my God for help. Did God heal my son physically? No. Was I angry? Momentarily. I had done everything right. I searched my mind for something I may have done to cause him harm and I couldn't even think of one reason it could be my fault. I had been that careful during my
 pregnancy.

After I received the news about my son, they left me alone in the ultrasound room to call my husband. Before I called him, I called on my God. I didn't care who heard me outside that door. I talked to God and I was loud and full of emotion. I don't even know how many times I asked Why?. I begged God to heal my son and take me instead. Then I remembered a well known verse that says:
For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord; plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11

The word that stood out to me was hope. I have hope in Jesus. While I was waiting outside the ultrasound room, I kept rubbing my belly and thanking God for the beautiful boy inside of me. As I sat there after, I was rubbing my belly, but this time I was longing for a child that was gone. I thought to myself, Am I any less thankful? If God was with me in the good times, is He not with me in the hard times? No, I was not any less thankful. I would never trade this pain away because it would mean I wouldn't have had Barrett those 18 beautiful weeks. I love my son and I am thankful that God gave him to me. I knew that as far as my God was concerned, nothing had changed in those last few minutes. Though my world had been rocked, He was constant. I was clinging to Him in that moment. I use the word cling because that is truly how it felt. I felt like a broken child crawling in her Father's lap and clinging to Him. I felt like that because that's exactly what I was doing. Every scripture I've ever memorized came streaming through my head at rapid speeds.

So, back to the question. After having that raw moment after reading it, I answered it. I said:

In response to your question, I have one for you. How could I not trust Him? Before I got that terrible news, He was right beside me in my joy. When I lay there crying on the ultrasound table, He was still there. I could feel Him all around me. How was I able to compose myself to make decisions? How was I able to hold my head high as I walked to my car? How was I able to drive an hour to my house to pack my bags without completely losing it? On my own, I wouldn't have made it out of the room. But that same God who walked beside me in my joy, carried me in my sorrow. My world was rocked, but my Jesus was the same.

We talked some more, but I was so glad someone asked me this question. We are trust Him in the good times, we are to trust Him in the bad. We are to rejoice when things are going our way, we are to rejoice when they aren't. We are to be thankful always, we are to be prayerful always.

4 comments:

  1. I am speechless. There are times when we all doubt, especially when we hear things about loss or children. I admire your strength and it is in those times if we look He is easy to feel all around us. God expects us to be angry at him and others because we are human (I have yelled at God a few times in my life) He can take it. I understand why after that question you felt drained. That was a very loving response you gave that person. You are one faith filled, strong wonder woman mama Staci! Prayers to you always. I think reaching out is the best thing you are doing.

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