Relationship status: It's complicated

"Tell me, what is the biggest difference between your grief journey with Sam and now with Gabriel?"

My therapist asked me this question last week. I sat in silence.

I think it's having Mira and Edward now...is it? Maybe it's not.

"It's my relationship with God."

When we had Sam, I couldn't wait to get out and share our story with the world. About how God had given us so much peace. How he had been there with us in the storm. How we didn't know how people could survive this much pain without him.

And now...

Now.

I don't know. I really don't know.

I wish I could say I still felt that way. I wish I could say I feel his presence strongly with me. I wish I could say I know that he is good and his plan is perfect, and that I know without a doubt he will redeem this great loss for the second time.

I envy 6 year ago me who was so sure of those things.

God gave his one and only son for me. That brought me so much comfort. Last time. I felt a kind of community with God that I hadn't really felt before. God is part of this child-loss community. He knows how I feel. He has the same sadness I do.

But now I've given two. I can't even say that, actually. I did not give them back. They were taken. My arms have been robbed of two boys. Two perfect boys that never were able to open their eyes and look at their Momma.

I know my loss is not unique. And there are people out there who handle it way "better" than I do. Their relationship with God is solid, they rest in his promises. They have peace. One day I hope to have that again, but today it is turmoil. My brow is furrowed at the wrongness and unfairness that is two dead babies. Two refrigerated bodies. Two tiny urns on my bookshelf. It makes no sense to me that two loving parents with a finally healthy marriage would have to do this even once, but twice?

I'm currently reading several books, and one author said something that I really liked. I'm paraphrasing here, but he said that as beings created in God's image, evil, loss, grief, injustice, and the unfairness of this world SHOULD perplex us. God is logical, and of course then so are we. And because evil does not make sense, we struggle greatly with the concept that it exists. Why does God allow evil to exist? Why? Why is he seemingly okay with all of this?

It is healthy to ask these questions. It okay to talk about doubt. It. Is. Okay.

Another book that I just finished echoed these sentiments, but the author warns to not stay stuck forever in the pit of "why"s. In her own testimony, she shares that she stayed there for years, but it wasn't until she asked her "how" that she started to climb out. "How will God redeem this? How will he use this for good?"

I'm not there yet. I'm not even close. And it may be months.

It may be years.

I cannot and I will not rush this for the sake of looking good. For the sake of being a "good Christian." I love Jesus and I know that he loves me, but I am telling you in total transparency...

I'm angry.

I'm bitter.

I feel abandoned.

And I do not need someone to save me. I do not need platitudes.

I just need to be loved.

Not one person on this earth can fix my brokenness. I don't even want it fixed right now. It wouldn't be genuine of me to say, "God is good and I have peace."

I said that last time. I meant it last time.

But right now, I do not feel those things. I'm hurting. I'm tired. I yell at my kids because they are little and they need me and I do not want to be needed right now. And then I feel crushing guilt because I yell at my kids and they're the only ones alive. Half of my children are dead and maybe it's because I'm an awful mother that doesn't deserve to raise all 4.

That last sentence? I know it's not true. I know. And I'm not asking for comments/compliments on why I'm a wonderful mother. I'm just openly sharing the lies that I hear each and every single day being whisper-screamed in my ear.

You're not good enough. 

You don't deserve your living children.

You shouldn't be happy.

You don't deserve to be loved on or cared for.

You're alone. Suck. It. Up.

Some days I have enough energy to speak truth against those lies.

Some days I don't. Those days are hard.

But you know what gets me through?

You.

Just as much as I share with my therapist the lies I'm constantly fed, I tell her every time I see her just how much I'm loved. I share regularly with the people closest to me all of these ugly, awful thoughts, and you know what they do?

They listen.

In silence.

They thank me for sharing. They tell me they're struggling with God because of this too. They don't offer reassurance or advice. They don't try and fix this. They cry when they imagine their babies dying in their arms, and they sit with me in the sadness that mine have. They share my grief. With each tear I see falling from one of my friends' faces...I feel the heaviness of my heart lift just a little. It's like a literal weight that they take from me and carry it themselves. THAT is love. THAT is unconditional love.

I cannot believe that I am the recipient of so much amazingly beautiful love. I see Jesus in these people. I cannot sit with God in silence and pray right now, but I can certainly sit with a friend and cry with them. I cannot praise God in this storm but I know he has sent these people to love me. I cannot slap on a smile and say "God is good" but I can stand on my rock of faith and say, "Lord I'm mad at you right now. I am so freaking mad at you."

And he can take it. He will be there when I'm ready to stop stomping my feet, crossing my arms, and turning my back. He will wait for me.

I know he will.


Photo by JOHN TOWNER on Unsplash