Friday, April 13, 2012

About this time

The baby I miscarried would have been born about this time.  My due date was around Easter, so I bet she would have been making her debut soon.  The days leading up to Easter were tough for me.  At times when I least expected it, I would feel sadness and an overwhelming aching for our baby.  Tears were shed.  Lots of moments were spent in prayer.  Even though sweet Sylvie is in my belly, the loss of a child is still a loss.
Our miscarriage journey has been vast.  It's changed my soul and the very fiber of my being in more {good} ways that I could have ever imagined.  But, you know, change is difficult.  The result of the change and refinement of my spirit has been so, so sweet.  God has given me so many opportunities to rest in Him and experience His grace and peace versus trying to navigate this journey on my own.  It's ironic; I feel like one of my personality traits that puts distance between myself and God is my need for control.  My entire Christian life, I've wrestled to fully give control of my life over to God.  So while I would have never chosen to go through this experience, God saw fit to work through this experience to help me surrender control to Him.  Not that I believe God purposely intended me to miscarry.  He knew it would happen, but my God is not a God of malicious-intent.  Our bodies are susceptible to disease and imperfection.  I believe these challenges are an opportunity for God to bless us and to bless others.
I journaled immensely in the days and weeks after our miscarriage.  Below are a few excerpts.  Again, I share these thoughts with you to encourage anyone else going through a loss or difficult time in their lives.  I share these with you so that you, my friends and family, might know the amazing work God has conducted in my heart and spirit.

"It's the morning after our miscarriage.  I feel like I'm living someone else's nightmare.  I wonder why, God, you allowed this in our lives.  But then I think harder, and I really wonder how you are going to use this to glorify you in our lives.  So many raw emotions running through my body.  What I most want to capture is the dream I had last night when I knew for sure I'd lost our little one.  
The scene of the dream was an outdoor arena in a Spanish-speaking country.  I was a spectator in the crowd.  Strangely, there was a young girl (maybe late teens or early 20's) with wavy, light brown hair packing moving boxes and trying to leave the arena/stadium.  Weird.  Anyway, in order for her to leave, she had to be granted permission.  She was seeking out a specific man to give her that permission.  She literally ran right into him while carrying a couple of the boxes.  As she jostled the boxes after bumping into him, he steadied her arm and asked if he could help her.  She instantly recognized him as the man to give her permission to leave, and she asked for his signature on her boxes so she could leave.  He asked her name; she responded, 'Mia.'  As he signed her moving boxes, he looked straight in her eyes and said, "Mia, I will always be here for you."  She smiled and got up to leave.  She looked back towards the arena from the open doorway, and mouthed the words "lo siento" to me.  (Translated, that means "I'm sorry.")  She walked out.  
I woke up immediately from my dream thinking God wanted us to name our next daughter Mia.  Then my brain started soaking it in.  This was a dream straight from God about our baby we'd just lost.  Mia in Spanish means "mine".  God knew baby Mia was going to be with Him instead of us, before she was even conceived.  God wanted me to know she was okay and protected.  And sweet Mia knew it would break my heart to lose her, hence the "I'm sorry."  Absolutely surreal, but so wonderful."

"So it’s day 5 of our miscarriage. Reality has set in. The anger has subsided; fear and sadness threaten to consume my heart. It would be so easy to succumb to the fear, to the pain, to the deep sadness. And at moments in the day, I definitely do. I wallow in the pain. I wipe tears away at work. I curl in a ball on the couch while Sienna plays and try to hide my tears. I hope Scott knows that I am not going to be like this forever; his wife will come back someday. God, I think you are okay with this sadness. You’ve given me this experience, and you know the desire of my heart is to see how YOU can be glorified through this experience. So the moments where the pain becomes too intense, I think You are okay with me just breathing in the pain for a while.
2 Corinthians 12:8 & 10 – “My grace is sufficient for you for my power is made perfect in weakness.” “…For when you are weak, I am strong.”
Thoughts of anxiety and fear I want to hand over to you… help me banish them from my thoughts as soon as they enter my brain…. 
Sweet baby, I miss you. My mind tells me that it’s awesome that all you will ever know is heaven, but my heart aches to hold you. To tell you I love you. To tell you everything is going to be okay.  But that’s not the plan God had for your life, so our reunion will have to wait for a while longer. The tears I shed are just my way of missing you on earth, but please know my heart is happy you are with God.
God, show me Your glory."


Molly said...

I sat down to read this when you originally posted and somehow was interupted. I just finally got to finish it now. Wow. What a post. Thank you for sharing so honestly and openly. I am so sorry for your loss Krista, and so thankful you shared your pain here. I love you sweet girl.

The Duff's said...

Thank you for sharing, Krista! 5 years after my miscarriage I still think of my baby around the due date too, but this year I can look back and thank the Lord for growing me up in my relationship with Him through that awful terrible time. It took humility to be that honest about how you felt, but thank you! It always helps remind me that the Lord put other people in my life who have felt the exact same thing. Love you!