Sunday, October 7, 2012

Days Like This

Today was another day that was hard for no particular reason. I just kept thinking of what Barrett would be doing if he were still here. I thought about how he would be kicking and responding to my voice. I thought about how Brent would be able to feel him kick by now--something he was never able to have. I wondered if Barrett would have gotten hiccups all the time like Audrey did so often when I was pregnant with her.

It's been over six weeks since we lost Barrett. 45 days. Maybe one day I'll be able to stop counting. Today I wrote down the words I wanted on his grave marker. Something I have put off for weeks now. I've fought myself about that. I so badly want my little boy to have his marker with his precious name on it, but at the same time it was just one more thing to make this nightmare real.

Sometimes it seems like this is all a dream and one day I'm going to wake up. Every night when I go to sleep I think maybe it will be tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow will be the day that I finally wake up and have him back. But it never happens and I know it never will. Every morning I wake up and feel my flat stomach and just like every morning before for the past 45 days, I am hit with a harsh reality. The harsh reality that if I want to visit my son, I must make the painful drive to his grave. The reality that I never got to bring him home and the only memories I have to hold on to are memories of crying as I held him. It never fails to hit me every single morning just as freshly as it did the day he was born. I get to the end of the day and breathe a sigh of relief that I made it through one more day. Only to realize that I will start all over again in the morning.

Today, while so many mothers were holding their children for the first time, I was finalizing the words on my first born son's grave. Something no mother should have to do, and something I never imagined I would have to do. Who would? We all think it could never happen to us. But unfortunately, this community I now belong to is large. We are a large group of women who belong to a group that we can never leave. We are bonded forever. But these are the strongest and most loving women I have ever met. Women who are willing to go well out of their way to bring comfort to another woman going through a similar loss.

But while every day is hard, I hope the joy my son has brought me is shining through the grief that is forever a part of me. I hope that when people see me, they see the joy rather than the pain because the joy is so much greater than any pain I feel. Despite all of the pain I push through each day, the joy overwhelms it.

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy .
Psalm 30:11

I never in my wildest dreams thought I could be this happy six weeks after losing my son. But my God is that good. He took the most painful thing I've ever endured and He used it to bring glory to Him. I find so much joy in seeing how the Lord is using the life of my beautiful Barrett.

 I heard the song Cry Out to Jesus by Third Day yesterday. It's a song I have heard countless times before, but yesterday certain words stood out to me.

For everyone who's lost someone they love
Long before it was their time
You feel like the days you had were not enough
When you said goodbye
There is hope for the helpless, rest for the weary,
And love for the broken hearts.
There is grace and forgiveness, mercy and healing
He'll meet you wherever you are.

Cry out to Jesus. Cry out to Jesus.

Praise the Lord that I can cry out to Him in my joy and in my pain and He'll meet me wherever I am. He already knows what I am feeling and He is here with me every step of the way. There is hope. There is healing--All in my Jesus.

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