Whew! It's been a ROUGH 2 weeks. Whoever said that there are stages of grief that everyone goes through in a linear fashion is a big fat liar. I think this picture is far more accurate portrayal of what grief is actually like (at least for me):
These past 2 weeks have brought several big milestones. July 3rd was Ellie's 8 month birthday. July 4th was another "first" in a year of holidays spent without our girl. It was also the first major holiday since we lost Lizzie. I should be posting pictures of my 3 babies and growing baby bump dressed in red, white and blue like everyone else on social media. But instead, I felt like I was dying inside thinking about all the "should be's." July 5th was 2 months since Lizzie was born far too soon. Then finally, yesterday was 8 months since Ellie went to heaven. I feel like I can breathe again. For a couple of weeks, anyway, until the next wave of milestones hit. Not every month knocks the wind out of me quite this much, though. Thoughts of my girls are never far from my mind, but sometimes I'm able to move through the days without totally losing it. This month was straight up brutal. I did NOT even see it coming. I was cruising along, starting to feel a little better as far as my PPA and PPD were concerned and then BAM. Knocked to the ground with my face trampled in the mud. Sometimes the hard days can be somewhat anticipated or predictable. Other times, they smack you in the face before you even know what's happening. I won't go on and on, but let me just say I didn't know if I would make it through that week. There are times that the pain and grief can feel so consuming that it feels as if I might just die of a broken heart.
I am part of a small group of mom friends who meet weekly for a play date and Bible study. We have spent the last few months choosing a verse or short passage once every 2 weeks to meditate on and study. Last week, in the middle of the overwhelm, God brought me to 1 Peter 5:10. It says this:
And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace,
who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ,
will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.
This was EXACTLY what I needed. It didn't take the pain away, but it did remind me that this suffering is only a season. It isn't forever. In "a little while," God Himself is going to restore what the locusts have eaten. I have faith that this is not only in the eternal sense, but that God is going to do those things in this life as well. I don't know what it will look like, but I trust that He makes beauty from ashes. I love that this particular version (ESV) says "God himself" because it makes it feel so personal. He's not going to just snap his fingers and magically fix everything. In the same way that He knit me together in my mother's womb and that He has lovingly carried me through the fire these past several months, He is going to restore, confirm, strengthen and establish me. Reading that brought so much comfort, as if it was the ray of hope shining through the middle of what felt like almost complete and utter hopelessness.
One of the aspects of grief that I really haven't written about yet is social anxiety. To be honest, this one has taken me completely by surprise. I've always been more on the introvert side, but there's something about intense grief that can make casual social situations unbearable. The best way I know how to explain it is that I simply don't have the energy to pretend to be ok. It's like there's a constant inner turmoil brewing, and it may erupt like a volcano either spontaneously or with the slightest trigger. Sometimes these eruptions are fairly predictable and sometimes they come out of nowhere. Because the tension is always bubbling just beneath the surface, it's hard to know when it will rear its ugly head. But one thing I know for certain is that I don't want to be anywhere near a casual social situation when it happens. I've actually been wanting to write about this for a little while but have had a hard time trying to find the words. A fellow bereaved mother and blogger who I've connected with through a child loss group on social media recently wrote a post called Fault Lines: Bereaved Parents and Social Anxiety. I think it explains things far better than I could have. Please take a moment to give it a quick read.
I have found myself withdrawing from social situations which require me to keep my "game face" on. I simply don't have the energy for that right now. Some days, I can manage it for a short while. Other days, I just really can't. I'm talking zero game face. Zilch. I hate it, but it is what it is. I know that it will become less exhausting to keep the game face as time goes on, but right now things are still very fresh. In many ways, it feels as if losing Lizzie has completely reset my "grief clock" back to zero. I felt like I had made a lot of progress in the 6 months following Ellie's death, and Lizzie's loss knocked me back down, perhaps even lower than before since I was already fragile and wounded. While some days it feels like it has been a lifetime since November 13, 2017, I try to remind myself that this loss is still extremely fresh and raw.
Last week, during the worst of the overwhelm, I found myself impossibly torn by my fault lines. We had planned to attend some fun 4th of July festivities as a family. When that day came, I knew a storm was brewing internally. I ended up having to make the decision to stay home and miss out on the festivities. And I hated myself for it. I REALLY wanted to be there with my family. I didn't want to miss out on making memories with my kids. But I felt absolutely crippled and in desperate need of some solitude to deal with the eruption of emotions and grief that I knew were coming. And they did come, about as soon as my family walked out the door. My decision to stay home wasn't a popular one. I got some pretty major flack over it. I was told it was unhealthy and not a good way to deal with my grief. I was told I should be enjoying the children I have instead of staying home thinking about the ones I don't. It certainly wasn't what I wanted to do, but I also have to take care of my heart when it's wounded and make a safe space to express that grief so that it doesn't explode in a manner that majorly disrupts others or even that hurts someone else.
I absolutely love Melanie's final remarks in her post that I linked above. She says, "Most of us have a “game face” we plaster on to make it through ordinary days and even some extraordinarily difficult ones. But underneath the veneer of “everything’s OK” there are the fault lines and when extra pressure is applied, we just know we might blow. Many times I want to be there, really I do. If I choose not to be, know that it’s because I am trying to be thoughtful, not ugly. I stay home out of love, not disrespect. So please extend grace. Give me the benefit of the doubt. Let me bow out gracefully when I know in advance my heart won’t be able to hold on. It’s best for both of us, really. "
And in those moments when I am barely holding on, He is always faithful to provide little glimpses of joy. A few of those glimpses that came during the past 2 weeks are that our Molly Bears finally arrived! If you're not familiar with Molly Bears, please visit their website to learn more. They are a non-profit organization that make teddy bears to match the weight of any baby lost up to 1 year of age, including babies who are miscarried or born sleeping. Unfortunately, there is a very high demand for these bears, and the waiting list is long. I ordered our Ellie Bear back in November. They graciously agreed to have the same bear maker create our Ellie and Lizzie bears and ship them together. The bears arrived the day before Ellie's 8 month birthday. My kids, especially my daughter Caroline, are enamored with the bears. Caroline prefers to hold Lizzie Bear because she says that Ellie Bear is "too hebby" because she weighs 7 pounds and 9 ounces. On July 4th when I was really struggling, Caroline asked to come watch her favorite show, Bob the Train, with me. Then she decided she wanted Ellie and Lizzie Bears to watch Bob with her, so I helped her prop them up next to her. I am well aware that I will never have a picture of all 4 of my children together, but it struck me as I sat there with Caroline that it was almost as if I snapped a picture of my 3 girls together, doing something they'd probably be doing if Ellie and Lizzie were here.
Another glimpse was being surprised with a getaway trip with my brother to visit some family. With 2 toddlers at home, I don't get much "me time." Ok, almost zero "me time." I spend a lot of my time feeling physically and emotionally drained between my responsibilities as a wife and mommy and the constant heavy weight of grief. So I've spent the last few days resting and refueling away from home while my wonderful husband and parents hold the fort down with the little people. I thought I'd share a picture that I snapped while watching the sunset the other night. It's so beautiful here on the lake, but I know it doesn't even compare to what my girls are experiencing now and what we will one day enjoy for all of eternity!
Throughout these past 8 months, I have really felt God leading me to trust Him alone to guide me through this process. I've always been quick to look to others or outside sources for help when I'm stuck. But He has been gently reminding me to let Him lead and to go to Him first rather than looking to what is seen. Not that I've been 100% faithful to that by any means, but I'm really trying. Part of that means making time to be still and listen for His voice. And part of it means making safe space for myself to give Him room to heal and refresh my heart.
These two songs have been playing on repeat these past 2 weeks. The first one is a reminder of my commitment to let Him lead and guide me. It's a reminder that He has walked through the valley of the shadow of death, and I can trust Him to bring me through it. The second song is Matt Maher's beautiful take on Psalm 23, a perfect reminder that I can rest my weary mind and broken heart in Him. He repairs my heart, restores my soul, and He gives me rest. I hope they bless you as much as they have me. And thank you to my family and friends who continue to allow me to just be, whatever that needs to look like. It means more than you'll ever know. 💓
Where are the signs? Which way should I go?
I planned each step but now I don't know
Tomorrow is a chasm of uncertainty
But, I will go there, if you'll go with me
Gentle Savior, lead me on
Let Your Spirit light the way
Gentle Savior, lead me on
Hold me close and keep me safe
Lead me on, gentle Savior
Why can't I walk away from my regrets
And why is forgiveness so hard to accept
My past surrounds me like a house I can't afford
But You say, "Come with me, don't live there anymore"
Gentle Savior, lead me on
Let Your Spirit light the way
Gentle Savior, lead me on
Hold me close and keep me safe
Lead me on, gentle Savior
And when I reach the valley, every soul must journey through
I'll remember then how well You know the way
I'll put my hand in Your hand like a trusting child would do
And say
Gentle Savior, lead me on
Let Your Spirit light the way
Gentle Savior, lead me on
Hold me close and keep me safe
Lead me on, gentle Savior
Oh my Lord, You are my shepherd and I shall not want
Oh my Lord, beside still waters You repair my heart
I trust in You, oh I trust in You
Even though I walk through the valley of death
You restore my soul and You give me rest
All the memories of Your faithfulness
You restore my soul and You give me rest
You restore my soul and You give me rest
You give me rest
Oh my Lord, You prepare a table for You and me
Oh my Lord, in the middle of a fight with my enemies
I trust in You, Oh I trust in You
I will fear no evil for You’re here with me
Your goodness and Your love, they will never leave
Just a closer walk with Thee, just a closer walk
Psalm 23
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk through
the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house
of the LORD forever.
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