Tag: Grief

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Little Darlings

If you’ve been marked by what might have been you don’t forget.
You know the day, the years.
You know when the baby would have been born…
It makes the calendar feel like a minefield,
like you’re constantly tiptoeing
over explosions of grief until one day you hit one,
shattered by what might have been.
~Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, p110~

I can’t always pinpoint exactly what makes me miss my sweet babies more on some days than on others. But today is a day where I just feel their absence here tangibly. When I was lying in bed this morning, I suddenly noticed I had my hand resting on my belly: almost as if I were waiting for Fidelis to kick me. I keep looking at Evangeline’s things as I pack them away into the basement and wonder what I should do with them… and I wonder what her little sister Heritage would have looked like in each outfit, and whether she would have loved shoes and hairbows as much as her big sister does. All three of my children are infatuated with babies, and even their little babydolls (Bennett, Timmy, and Bea) ~ and when they play house together, I watch with my own arms empty, my womb closed up, my breasts dry.

This year is so far from what I thought it would be. And while most days I am able to not only function with joy & thankfulness & peace, there are the rare occasions like today where all I want to do is crumble into a ball in a dark closet and weep for the children I lost to heaven.

On most days, for me, it’s all right…
But for today, for a minute, it’s not all right.
I understand that God is sovereign,
that bodies are fragile and fallible.
I understand that grief mellows over time,
and that guarantees aren’t part of human life,
as much as we’d like them to be.
But on this day, looking out at the harsh white sky of a Chicago winter,
I’m crying just a little for what might have been.
…I’ll always know.
~Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, p110~

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A couple days ago, I read the account of Lazarus’ death and resurrection to my children, and Gabriel said “if Jesus had been here, would our babies not have died either?” I assured him that Jesus indeed was here, and it brought Him joy to take our children to heaven. And I reminded him of how Jesus Himself said all of these things are so that God would be glorified.

Today I miss my sweet babies acutely.
They are my little darlings, and I will always be their mommy.
So I’m thankful tomorrow will carry new mercies, and my God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Amen.

All around the world, God is giving and sustaining life to the praise of His grace.
His mercy is new every morning, and it’s always morning somewhere.
~Gloria Furman, Treasuring Christ When Your Hands are Full, p149~

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grace from every corner

What I need as a mother is grace.
God’s grace, that allows me to fail and try again,
that allows me to ask for help when I don’t have the wisdom or patience that I need,
that reminds me we’re not alone in this,
and that God loves my son even more than I do.

And grace from other mothers.
I need grace and truth-telling and camaraderie from other moms.
I need us to tell the truth about how hard it is,
and I need us to help each other,
instead of hiding behind the pretense and pressure of perfection.

~ Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, p114 ~

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There are some moments these days, since the miscarriage,
when I feel like a failure
because my body wasn’t able to do what so many other women’s bodies can.
I see them with their kids, a year apart, one after another.
That will never be true for me and for our family.
I’ll always remember, even if we do have more children someday,
the loss we experienced last summer.

But what has healed me more than anything else
are the stories of other women who have experienced similar things.
I’ve needed grace,
and I’ve needed women who share their sorrows with me,
and allow me to share my own.

~ Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, p114 ~

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My Wounds

I may have written this post a good while ago (not long after Heritage died), but it feels just as fresh, and my wounds are picked open and oozing even now. But the point is this: the wounds are not for naught. These wounds will be redeemed. There is a reason that I can not see. And God wants me to use these wounds for Him, His glory and His Kingdom, and I can not sit here silently licking my wounds in a corner. He calls me to share them, to utilize them, not to waste them.

These wounds scab over, and they will scar someday. The pain and trouble they bring will change over time. That’s what God is in the whole business of doing. And I’m thankful to put my pain to good use.

The scar will be knit into my skin, reminding me that I am not the same as I was before. God tends to scar me over in particular ways, as though He were creating a pronounced alignment within my soul in a single direction, toward a specific goal. Each baby of mine that has died has left me with a gaping wound—and each one has also eventually left me with a pronounced scar. While the scars are most obvious to me—sometimes they even make me a little self-conscious, a little embarrassed, wondering if I stick out amongst the crowd—others notice the scars too. Some people comment on it, some people notice but keep it to themselves. I used to think I had to hide my scars, but now I know better: now I know that God did not give me these scars to be hidden away. They are not something to be ashamed of, but something to be utilized.

And so I wait for the scar—I wait for the relief that it will bring, for the hope it will carry, for the unique way God will use my newly knit skin for His glory. I am crying to Him for this blessing, and I trust His grace to extend to me in the form of healing. I have no control over when or how, but I believe His Word, and I know that His favor is for life, and He delights in bringing mornings of joy following night (Psalm 30:2-5). May I bleed and scab, scar and heal for the greatness of His mercy and the furthering of His Kingdom—may He give me pronounced singleness of direction as I toil for Him, even in this.

To read the rest, hop on over to Mommies With Hope, where I share Wounded straight from my own broken-yet-blessed heart.

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This is where I live

I feel like this picture captures so much of my life at the moment.
Of course this is actually my yard/view so this is truly where I spend my life.
And much of it is spent in my husband’s arms.
Some of it is spent smiling, some of it is spent trying to smile.
And while so much of it is spent in the storms right now, there are rainbows, and I seek to bask in that reflected glory.

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He’s the Daddy of Twelve

One thing I adore about my husband is how much he loves his children. All twelve of them. I love how being father of 12 is one of the top things he would describe about himself (for instance, in his Twitter intro), in true Psalm 127:5 form. And it was basically seven years ago that he became a father for the first time… although it would be a couple more weeks until we knew about it.

Today, you can read at Mommies With Hope, about the heart of my husband as I see it, and as I see him, in his fatherhood and his imitation of his Father in Heaven.

This Father’s Day, I want to honor my husband for the father that he is—the father of twelve. I want to praise the Lord for His compassion toward us, for His provision, for remembering our frame. I want to bless my husband and bless our Father in Heaven for their love and their servanthood. I want to tell the world about the heart of a daddy—one that rejoices fully, grieves deeply, loves steadfastly, shows compassion, gives abundantly—the heart of God Himself, also reflected in the human form of my husband, thanks to God’s grace and God’s gifts. The Lord is King and rules over all things from His throne in Heaven, and whether your arms are full or empty (or both…) this Father’s Day, it is my prayer that the fatherly heart of God would extent His compassion and love toward you—that you too would know His Kingship both in the valleys and on the mountaintops.

Darling Steven, I love you, and am so thankful that God chose you  to be the father of my dozen little darling olive branches. I love seeing God in you. I love seeing you in my babies. I love that you walk with me just as tenderly in grief as you do in joy. This Father’s Day will not be all about “happy” ~ but it will definitely be all about thankfulness and honor for the journey God has given you in your fatherhood. It’s been glorious: in the valleys and on the mountaintops, each in their own ways. Cheers to you, my Steven, and may God grant you more arrows in your quiver and more Father’s Days for God’s glory.

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Eulogy for Fidelis Se’arah, by Daddy

Guest-posting on my blog today is my sweet husband, the faithful daddy of my twelve children. Here he shares his heart, his faith, his God, and his youngest child with you.

 

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Dear friends and family,

Once again, we must bring hard news. Once more, we mourn in the dust, and our sorrow is great. Grieve with us for our child who now joins 8 siblings in the heavenlies. Though we here on earth mourn, the church triumphant welcomes a new member. God is true, and He is good. Gabriel’s prayers have been reminding us of God’s sovereignty and goodness in taking this baby to His bosom into life forevermore.

We have named this little saint Fidelis Se’arah. Fidelis means faithful. Se’arah means whirlwind or tempest. As God has brought us along this path, these two themes have been coming closer and closer together in our experience and understanding.

God is faithful – completely, absolutely, to the uttermost – even through life’s strongest storms. He will never leave us or forsake us. Likewise, we are called to faithfulness in the face of the whirlwind. Like Job, who was a faithful son of God in the midst of trials and tribulations, we are to face such times with sorrow, heartache, trust, and worship.

And finally, in many senses, God is a faithful whirlwind. At the end of Job, God speaks to Job from out of the tempest. Literally, the form God took to speak to Job was a whirlwind. He is the One who authors hardships and spins sorrow, all to shape vessels of clay into sons for glory, lumps of iron into crowns of gold. Though the fire burns, it is meant to burn off the dross that we might shine as gold. God is faithful and true even as the whirlwind.

And so now, we rejoice through bitter tears of lamentation. We worship through broken dreams. We know that our child now partakes in fullness to overflowing of the bounty of the richness of God’s grace. And we here look ahead in hope to the resurrection, to the death of death, and to life after the storm.

“Know therefore that the Lord your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love Him and keep His commandments, to a thousand generations.” (Deuteronomy 7:9)

May our God continue to pour out His comfort, love, and peace. And may we be faithful to stare into the storm unflinching, ready to be changed by it.

To God be the glory.
Steven, Melissa, Gabriel, Asher, Evangeline ~ and our nine saints triumphant

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My twelfth little arrow, my sweet Fidelis Se’arah

On Monday, I delivered our twelfth baby, Fidelis Se’arah.
It still leaves me feeling rather speechless in many ways.

We had expected and hoped to be holding this baby in our arms during the season of Advent, when we always raise our voices loudly singing the song Adeste Fidelis (“O Come All Ye Faithful”).

In Job, the Lord speaks to Job from the whirlwind (see Job 38:1, for example); and Job is a book that my husband and I have been reading, listening to sermons on, and going through a book study on recently/currently.

We have seen God’s great faithfulness to us in past storms, and now we are calling on Him again to once again prove His faithfulness to us in the midst of this tempest.

Here are some Scriptures that are blessing me this week as I grieve the death of my sweet Fidelis Se’arah, as I meditate upon my faithful King, as I long to be released from the whirlwind of sorrow in this life, as I toil for the Kingdom and anticipate reuniting with my children someday when I see my Jesus face to face and touch His pierced side with my own hands.

Deuteronomy 7:9 “Know therefore that the Lord your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations.”
Deuteronomy 32:4 “The Rock, his work is perfect, for all his ways are justice. A God of faithfulness and without iniquity, just and upright is he.”
1 Samuel 12:24 “Only fear the Lord and serve him faithfully with all your heart. For consider what great things he has done for you.”
Psalm 25:10 “All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness, for those who keep his covenant and his testimonies.”
Psalm 36:5 “Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds.”
Psalm 69:13 “But as for me, my prayer is to you, O Lord. At an acceptable time, O God, in the abundance of your steadfast love answer me in your saving faithfulness.”
2 Timothy 2:10-13 “I endure everything for the sake of the elect, that they also may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory. The saying is trustworthy, for: If we have died with him, we will also live with him;if we endure, we will also reign with him;
if we deny him, he also will deny us;if we are faithless, he remains faithful— for he cannot deny himself.”
1 Peter 4:19 “Therefore let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good.”
Revelation 2:10 “Do not fear what you are about to suffer. …Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life.”
Job chapters 38 & 39 (40 & 41 as well, honestly), as I meditate upon the Lord holding all of these things in His faithful, true, loving hands.

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Guest Posting “My Story”

This week I was asked to guest post (a new thing for me!) in honor of National Infertility Awareness Week, and it was a real joy and honor to spend a couple of hours writing my story out for this purpose. It is always beautiful when I feel like God is just giving me specific words to say and a particular message to share with His people, especially those who are suffering. May the Lord be praised, and may His people be encouraged by what I can share of the story He has written for my family.

Snippets and teasers until you pop over here to read my story yourself:

One of the big things about “infertility awareness” is the whole idea that we aren’t all completely aware of what infertility is. We may not know how to define it. We may not understand what it’s like. We may have no real idea who is affected by it. And that’s one of the interesting things about my story, my angle on infertility—at first glance, you may well not think of my story as one of infertility. And that’s why my story, and others like mine, are told, especially during times like National Infertility Awareness Week—to help open eyes, advance knowledge and understanding, to nurture fellowship and empathy amongst women who so often suffer in misunderstood silence.

This is my story, that God wrote for me before I was created in secret (Psalm 139:15-16)—the story that He reveals to me chapter by chapter, that I live out before Him by faith, that I don’t completely understand but that I embrace because I know He is good. I recognize that my life, my joys and my suffering, is for the purpose of glorifying Him (1 Peter 4:12-13, 5:10).
~~~

All of a sudden a new chapter of the story of my life was unfolding. It was unlovely and unfamiliar. It felt cold and harsh. Its very essence was isolating and debilitating. I cried myself to sleep so many nights, and found it hard to drag myself out of bed in the mornings. I had a living son—my womb had managed to produce life before! And, thus far, it had never taken more than two cycles of trying to conceive before the Lord filled my womb. How could infertility become part of my reality?
~~~

Whether we are facing another chapter—or perhaps simply an interlude—of uRPL in our family or not, we have realized that we just don’t know what the chapters in our story are going to look like; we can’t predict their endings; we may not always understand the storyline as we’re going through it (and maybe not even when looking back). But infertility will always be part of our story, as God has used it to shape us and use us in ways we would not have otherwise been used in His Kingdom.

If you look at my family picture, you probably would not automatically think, “I wonder if that family has ever struggled with infertility?”—which is just another reminder for us in the midst of National Infertility Awareness Week that we really are unaware of so much about infertility, its effects, its forms, its reach. My arms are both full and empty. I have children on earth, but more children who reside in the glories of heaven. I know the miracle of getting BFPs (that’s infertility-speak for “big fat positive” which is code for a positive pregnancy test), but I also know the depth of anguish that comes from my naïveté being stolen and understanding that being pregnant does not necessarily mean I am having a baby.
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And that is one of the reasons why I feel God calls me to speak out about it, to share in others’ similar journeys, to offer words of encouragement and empathy on this path, so that others can share in the comfort of Christ (2 Corinthians 1:4) which He has offered to me through these locust-eaten years (Jonah 2:25) as well, even as He continues to reveal my own story to me little by little.

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Sharing, “Beauty From Ashes”

The interweavings that the Lord gives us with various people, the odd connections that seem to pop up in His people, amazes me sometimes. For instance, I called my grandma yesterday to chat and she said that she had just been listening to a Focus on the Family program and heard something she thought I’d be interested in: she said, “I think the woman’s name was Teske Drake, and I thought you’d really be blessed by her story, she sounded so much like you.” I had to giggle, and I told Grandma, “I know Teske. Via the internet, but I know her. She recently recruited me to be a contributor to her online ministry, Mommies With Hope, and so far she has accepted four articles from me, and the second one is about to be published online.” Oh, God’s ways. 🙂

With that said, my real introductory post for Mommies With Hope was published today, called “Beauty From Ashes,” and I would love to share it with you. As I responded to one of the comments it has received already, I could not have written this post even just a couple of years ago. The Lord has continued to mold me and shape me, to give me acquiescence to His will because I know that He does all thing well. Not that that makes it easy or simple or happy to walk these roads ~ just that my worries, fears, doubts, tears, and anxieties do NOT have the last word. Amen!

I have the incredible blessing of having eleven children—a blessing that I did not know I ever wanted, and honestly, part of me still doesn’t know I want it. But it’s the wonderful, painful truth.

The Lord has continued to sharpen, hone, and strengthen us so that He can continue using us as His tools. This is a true testimony of His beauty—seeing Him redeem the days the locusts ate by granting us growth in Him, ministry among His people, and the ability to reap joy after sowing years of tears.

…here I sit in the ashes, with tears streaming down my face once again. But this time I not only hope and look for beauty, but trust and truly believe, that there will be more beauty—that it doesn’t end here in the ashes, but that these ashes are here precisely because the Lord intends to draw beauty from them. So I’m weeping with my eyes open, because when the beauty begins to rise, I want to see it and rejoice (Psalm 119:74-77).

May God continue to give me eyes to see His handiwork, so that I would be able to praise Him for His good works, so that I would pray with integrity that His will would be accomplished, so that the beauty around me would glorify Him and bless His people, no matter how deep the ash heap has gotten.

Psalm 50:1-2

The Mighty One, God the Lord,
    speaks and summons the earth
    from the rising of the sun to its setting.
Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty,
    God shines forth.

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Easter Outfits

As I was just getting Easter outfits set out and prepared for this upcoming weekend, I was remembering back to just a handful of years ago when I was anticipating Easter. I remember how painful it was to pick out clothes for Gabriel ~ and nobody else. How he was my only one to dress up. He wasn’t a stairstep kid. He didn’t have siblings on earth. I couldn’t put bows on his sisters’ hair, because I can’t reach all the way up to heaven. I didn’t get to pick out matchy-matchy stuff for brothers, or even think about finding coordinating things. Sometimes he got to coordinate with his cousins (thanks to Grandmama’s excessively good taste and love of filling out the grandkids’ wardrobes), but sometimes that was more painful than fun for me.

Easter of 2011, I was raging with pregnancy hormones and new drugs, painfully aware that the baby in my womb may not survive to the next Easter. Going to church on Easter to celebrate resurrection almost made me feel like a fraud. I was stuck in death and waiting… it didn’t feel real to celebrate new life and resurrection. I went through the motions, but it felt fake. Forced. Habitual. I saw families at church with coordinated outfits. I saw little girls everywhere with bows and hats and patent shoes and purses and flowers and plastic bead necklaces.

I remember feeling like I was surrounded only by shattered dreams. And I remember that depth of anguish.
I simply can’t forget.

But here I am, just a few years later. And oh God, how merciful You are to me, a sinner… You saw fit to come down and lift my downtrodden state… You gave me stairsteps, and You even gave me a daughter. Oh God! I cry at the thought! Why would You do such merciful things for me?!

So today I cried as I laid out two little plaid shirts, grey pants, white bow ties and suspenders… and a poofy flowery dress, patent shoes, tiny tights, a big white bow… and my own THREE miracles, my little darlings I dreamed of but nearly despaired of ever holding in my arms… they will sit in the Easter service singing and praying and eating candy and shouting “He is risen, indeed!” in their matchy-matchy outfits, nearly stairstepped in size (Gabriel is like the landing on a set of stairs, haha).

And this mercy is not lost on me.

Nor is the pain that my joy could be causing someone else.

So I will pray for infertile women, suffering mothers, bereaved mamas, single women. I will pray for hurting hearts that will throb and bleed when they see my own little brood of Resurrection-Life children. They may not know what a miracle it is that I have been given this gift… but I know.
I simply can’t forget.

And so on Easter morning, I will look again at these miraculous children… these gifts of life that followed so much death and so much waiting… so much sitting-at-Christ’s-feet… so much crying to God why-have-You-forsaken-me… and I will feel mercifully, undeservedly, bountifully blessed. And I will shout with tears in my eyes as I think of all eleven of my beautiful children, “CHRIST IS RISEN!!! ALLELUIA!!!”

Christ came. He conquered. He lived. He died. He rose again. He gives us hope.
Hope even for a woman who is raging with hormones, dealing with awful drug side effects, grieving for a daughter I don’t get to hold again… hope that resurrection has happened, and it will happen again.

That’s what packing Easter outfits did to me today. It reminds me of broken dreams, and of dreams come true.
Death inevitably follows life, but for those of us in Christ, life follows death. Hosanna! Alleluia!