I know my last post was pretty grim. A downer. Depressing, perhaps. When I first wrote it (last year) I was in the grip of a major depression with some symptoms of PTSD. I by no means want to trivialize what other people have gone through that resulted in "real" PTSD. Wars and rapes and terrorist events and the like. I know that I have been very protected and blessed my whole life. I have two brothers who have been to war. I'm sure they have been through much more than I have. Nevertheless, this experience haunted me far longer than I would have dreamed it would. I thought I had moved on and was ready for another stab at a new pregnancy. I was wrong. But it took me about a year to realize it...
Anyways, as difficult as losing tiny Micah was there were amazing glimpses of Grace that held me up. To begin with throughout that day God gave me the most incredible peace. I was sad, shocked almost beyond feeling that this one had already left. But God kept me calm. I knew that it would hurt later, but at this time I had one thought. "This is the path, walk ye in it." What else can one do? Events that are beyond your control call you to live them out, one moment at a time.
Day by day, and with each passing moment
Strength I find to meet my trials here.
Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment,
I've no cause to worry or to fear.
He whose heart is kind beyond all measure
Gives unto each day what He deems best
Lovingly, it's part of pain or pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.
I was blessed beyond measure by the friends that stood with me. Lisa brought us the aforementioned blood pressure cuff that Robert used to monitor me in the ER which effected a security guard taking notice and calling for the administrator to see what was going on, which might have saved my life.
Thank you, Lisa!
Kristi and Lisa both came to the hospital to support and pray for me. Initially, they were not allowed to visit me as I was still unstable. I think (memory is a little fuzzy) that I did get to see Lisa eventually. Her presence was a tangible reminder of all the people I love and that I felt were loving on me at that time.
My mom and Aunt Brenda dropped what they were doing in OKC to come. When I came home the next day, they were there. Loving me with a clean house and clean clothes. Every drop of blood had been scrubbed away.
The doctors and nurses at Saint Francis South were, as always, very kind and professional. I think it's the best hospital in the Tulsa area.
My church family brought meals and sent an ivy. Brenda gave me a collection of I Love Lucy, season 1, which was a life saver! I needed the laugh.
Sherry, always practical, gave me love and a listening ear and a book, "Choosing Gratitude" by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. Not a book on Where Is God When There Are Terrible Tragedies? Or a book on How To Feel Sorry For Yourself In Ten Simple Steps. No, she knew. I needed to look up and smile at the One who brought all this about for His Purpose. I recall crisp September days laying in a sunny patch of grass, drinking Raspberry Leaf tea and reading. Being reminded to give thanks for the tangy tea as it slipped down my throat. To rejoice for the lemony slice of sun that warmed my leg. To actually look at my children that I do have to love and hold and bathe and smile with.
I pondered the question, Why? Why would God let me conceive four children that He knew would never make it? It's a fair question, I believe. And He gave me a fair answer. These are souls that will never die. They existed before only in the mind of God. He used me to bring them into actual existence. They live now with one purpose, to praise their Creator. I am laying up treasure in heaven. Living treasure that I will get to hug, some Day. And I thank God for the opportunity to be their mother.
One last blessing, a promise, hangs on my laundry room wall. The Saturday before was the perfect day. Brilliant, one of the last days of summer sparkled gold and topaz and emerald. Robert and I took the family to the Egyptian exhibit at the Philbrook Museum. The kids had so much fun seeing the artifacts and a real mummy! They made Egyptian style headdresses and heiroglyphs. We strolled through the garden, Robert finding his greatest delight in copying the dimensions of a classical gazebo, I contemplating the glories of the blossoming flowers and my growing family. We headed to the basement to play with the watercolors. I am no artist. But I do enjoy writing scripture verses in a calligraph-esque sort of way. The song that hummed through my mind, "He hath made everything beautiful in His time." That is what I painted. It wasn't very pretty. And I really didn't care. I stuffed it into my backpack and we went our merry way. After everything fell through, I remembered my old tradition of having one small item to remember every child by. Live or die, that item would always be theirs. I have collected socks, house shoes, bibs, blankets. If it is something that I can collect early in the pregnancy, while all is still well, so much the better. I realized that I didn't have anything for Micah yet. Until I cleaned out my backpack. That promise had been there all along. In my bag. In the bathroom of Hideaway Pizza. Next to the paper towel that held my broken dreams. I framed it and put it on my dresser. And I held on . "He hath made everything beautiful in His time." Not 'will make', but already has made. I might not see it. But ignorance never negates truth. He is. He is here. He is at work. He is at work in me. If He says that it's beautiful, it is. If He says that it works together for good, it does. 2 and a half years later, I'm still holding on. But better yet, 2 and a half years later, He is still holding me.