I lost two babies this year.
Two babies I won't get to hold on this side of heaven.
I am trying to navigate grief and come to terms with
reality, and I as do, pain hits me in waves. This week, as I’ve been looking
ahead into the new year, I am feeling that pain again.
This spring, I’d be welcoming a sweet baby. Plans for the
nursery would be in full swing, there’d be a crib in that back bedroom, freshly
painted walls, stacks of tiny things.
But when that dream slipped out of my grasp… I dared to
dream again.
This summer, I’d be birthing a sweet baby, just around the
time of Elias’ birthday—“an early birthday present for you!!” I said to him… because
I was so sure it wouldn’t happen twice.
But it did.
The roundness of my belly is replaced by a feeling of empty,
the morning sickness is gone, the ultrasounds are all cancelled, the back room
still untouched.
In all the dark moments, though, my heart insists on hope. When
I want to quit everything and give in to the sadness, there’s someone there to
carry me or fight for me. When I am angry with God, I have only him to run to.
When I cannot understand, my soul whispers again: “Though he slay me, yet I
will hope in him.”
HOPE.
I have hope that someday I’ll hold another little baby in my arms. I have hope
that I’ll get to see that crib in the back room. But even if I don’t--I have
hope that, come what may, God is making something glorious out of our broken
souls.
We are not given a life without grief or pain or suffering,
but we are given this: hope. Jesus. comfort. redemption.
We are not given all the answers in this life—maybe not
ever—but we are given this truth: He is good. He is so, so good.
