I recently was able to go to a respite weekend for moms of special needs children at a lovely B&B in West Michigan. While I was there, I had a lot of time to rest and write and think. After having my sixth miscarriage in September, I wondered again why I had to say goodbye to yet another precious baby.
I talked out loud to Jesus:
“Why do other people get to keep THEIR babies, Lord? Some of those people don’t even WANT to be pregnant. Why have I had to give not just one, but six back to you? I pray to be like Hannah, willing to do anything for a baby, even giving hers back to the temple as he grew older, yet again and again those dreams disappear? Why me Lord? Why my babies? It’s just not fair.”
Now, I know the age old saying, “life isn’t fair,” and agree for the most part. But in all honesty, sometimes the level of unfairness really does stink and there isn’t any argument there.
It’s a hard place to be in when I already have three precious children who are amazing gifts, but it doesn’t replace the ones I lost. Nothing can take their place. I don’t want to ever come across as ungrateful for their lives or equate my struggles with those dealing with infertility and empty arms. Yet, secondary infertility is a thing and loss is loss.
I am so grateful that my Jesus can handle my questions, my ramblings in the dark, and at times, even my anger.
One thing I’ve come to see is that no matter who you are – your economic background, ethnicity, gender, religious affiliation, or upbringing – we all have loss and we all grieve. Grieving takes many forms, but we still grieve.
I pray that in all my own personal grieving, I come to a place where I can show compassion and minister to those who are hurting for a myriad of reasons. I daily pray for clarity into situations where I don’t know what to do or how to reach out. He has all the answers and I want to be His arms and feet.
So I weep.
I weep for my babies. I weep for the many times I look around my table with missing chairs. I weep for the missing stockings on our fireplace at Christmas. I weep for the hurt my husband and children are experiencing. I weep for my friends.
It’s okay to cry. Tears are healing, washing my heart like a fresh rain on a warm day.
So be there.
Listen.
Let the silence do the talking when words don’t need to be spoken.
He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” ~ Revelation 21:4-5
Blessings,
Stephanie
