Friday, June 10, 2011

Right Where I Am: 1 year, 1 month, 28 days

Sometimes life slows just a bit and you realize that you have been in hiding. That this busy life makes it easier to keep going as if joy has fully returned and it is like nothing ever happened. I have been hiding.

Grief is private, we all do it differently. But I feel compelled to share this even one year, one month and twenty-eight days later because, you may be hiding, or someone you know may need your help, your love to come out of hiding. You or someone you know may not be grieving a child, a baby, maybe it is a job, a move, another loved one or a dream. Regardless it can be a long journey, even when He is right there beside you, carrying you. I know I am being carried.

To say I am still grieving though, is the honest truth; to say that my baby died, I let Jesus' peace envelope me and now it is like it never happened {the end} and we all live happily ever after...would be a is not over, the story He is writing {my life} is still unfolding.

It has been a roller coaster even still. The early days where I turned off the world, stopped enjoying any bits of life, stopped eating, couldn't sleep, was ridden with panic and now I suck up the world with a straw like a longed for fountain diet coke, because the world can be a temporary refuge...but I know it is not the sanctuary I long for.

That valley was a sanctuary, and I feared losing touch with it, with Him about this time last year...and here I am as if that were some strange bit of foreshadowing. To the world I am back, and mostly I am, but I've often gone backwards...sometimes just walking in the kitchen triggers memories of morning sickness, crossing the threshold of my patio door brings a slide show of the moments when the very fluid meant to protect her came pouring out of me with snippets of the screen gone still, her heartbeat gone still. How the times before were like any old day then because I was lead to believe it was nothing, they did not count. In my heart I knew they mattered but you know this world can be awful convincing or at the very least force you to hide.

I did not know.

But something happens when you deliver your lifeless child into the arms of Jesus. It changes you and makes you long for heaven like never before. It still hurts every single day just as it did one year, one month, 28 days ago and you still cannot pick up another baby without weeping inside. Oh, how your heart hurts something really physically hurts {I mean really hurts} because you still don't know what you're supposed to do next. How you long so deeply for something to bookend this trauma or have a clue as to what to do with it.

I reminisce how the deepest of that pit is where I found Him. Oh I knew where He was before but I mean really found Him...found him holding together every fiber of my being when it felt as though I was an irreparable mess. I see the Word of God like a balm on my wounded spirit, plastered with love, ginormous love that binds up the yuck of this life and that is what keeps me going. I tell you, there is a balm...

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

This post was part of a project that was started by Angie at Still Life with Circles to share where we are in our grief after losing a baby.


  1. Jen, I don't know quite that longing in a Mother's heart for heaven, but I can imagine it is strong and gripping. Your words are so poignant and honest and even beautiful as you describe how it is to heal even as you reel on the inside. I'm so glad you shared this. As always, even now, I will pray for him to keep pulling you close.

  2. Absolutely beautiful. I hope you can feel that stillness, peace, that "well" with your soul and if not yours, feel that it is well with His. :)


  3. Thank you for reminding me that 'being in hiding' is real. I sometimes get to that place and I remember His love carries me. Thank you for sharing your heart and grief.

  4. This was a beautifully written post. So sorry for the loss of Abigail.
    Visiting today via Angie's blog.
    With much love.

  5. Beautiful. Thank you for sharing right where you are. Much love.

  6. Oh, this is so beautiful and I have no words. Just to echo all that is said here and add my prayers. You are so loved.

  7. I'm visiting from Angie's project - I am sorry that Abigail Eden (what a beautiful name) is not in your arms right now.

  8. I am so sorry for the loss of your beautiful Abigail, and so grateful to you for sharing where you are. I struggle so often with my faith, and I appreciate reading about the sincerity and beauty of yours.