I thought things would get easier. They've gotten harder. It's been two months since we lost the baby (technically, three), and I'm thinking more about her, not less. I've said before that we'll never know if it was a boy or girl, but in my mind, she's Olivia. And I am still aching because I will never hold her until I am swept up into heaven, or until I perish.
A few weeks ago, an old friend sent me a message sharing some very personal thoughts. It seemed that she'd been following my baby news and admitted she had mixed feelings about it. And she wanted to apologize. You see, this lovely young woman, who is a medical miracle on her own, is unable to bear children. Her heart is for kids, so you can imagine the almost physical pain she must endure each time a friend announces a pregnancy, or a baby shower invitation comes in the mail. I hadn't really even considered the kind of heartache that she undergoes on a regular basis until just recently.
A very close friend of mine joyously "went public". Although I have friends who had been pregnant before I lost the baby, this was the first announcement of a new pregnancy that I have heard. I am truly happy for her. I know it has been her heart's desire, and that this baby will bring a opportunity for healing, wholeness and peace to her, her husband, and her friends and family - including me. Eventually. But when I sat down last night, alone with my thoughts, I examined my feelings, and I wept. Then I hated myself for it. Why should even a small part of me not be delighted for this dear friend, who is receiving a blessing in her life? Why should I close myself up when I hear news about babies - hers or anyone else's? Why should she fret about sharing exciting details with me?
I couldn't answer those questions right away. But when I attended my women's leadership small group the next day, I asked for prayer. I confessed to these women I love so dearly that I was struggling. I was so grateful for the encouragement that I received! Not only did they assure me that my feelings were normal because I was still grieving, but they suggested I share those feelings with my friend, so that they wouldn't grow into bitterness or resentment. They also prayed for me and loved on me and reminded me that God has indeed promised me children, and I will have a child in my arms in his perfect timing!
I can't say that all my pain magically disappeared at that moment. Unanswered questions still roll around in my head. Every so often, still, stray pain stabs at me...like it did last night when my husband asked what I wanted for my 30th birthday and I replied, "To be 6 months pregnant like I was supposed to." But, knowing what some of these incredible women are dealing with on a daily basis - job troubles, family situations, health issues or financial challenges - and being able to see their sincere, peaceful, loving smiles, I regained my hope.
The next morning, my friend actually approached me to discuss the situation. She wanted to be sure that she was being sensitive enough, and wanted to let me know that God had laid my situation on her heart, and she'd prayed for me the night before.
Not only am I grateful for her sensitivity to my needs and to what the Holy Spirit was telling her, but now I can view my other friend - the one who is still coming to terms with being biologically childless - in a completely new light. I have been in both their shoes, and I'm learning that's the only way to truly gain perspective.
If David had been crowned and recognized as king as soon as Samuel had anointed him, he probably would not have had to endure the ordeals that the jealousy-crazed Saul forced upon him. He would not have had to hide in caves, build an army of thieves and rabble-rousers, or feign madness to survive. He also would not have become the powerful, humble, quick-to-repent ruler that he later proved to be.
If I have to endure the storms, I don't simply want to come out of them sopping wet, complaining about the rains. I want to come through them knowing I've shared my umbrella with others, and they've gotten through a little less battered by the weather.
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