I may not live in Scripture Filled Wonderland, but it doesn't mean I believe that the Bible doesn't speak to my heart, my life. Just now, while reading this morning and trying to find something, anything to cling to so I don't just fall apart in my desk chair, office windows clear and open for all to see the crazy doctor sitting her chair, sobbing, Something I didn't even search out is there:
(the Message Bible version of parts of Psalm 38)
Lord, my longings are sitting in plain sight, my groans are an old story to you. My heart's about to break; I'm a burned-out case..... What I do, God, is wait for you, wait for my Lord, my God-- you will answer! ....I'm on the edge of losing it-- the pain in my gut keeps burning. I'm ready to tell my story of failure... don't dump me, God; my God, don't stand me up. Hurry and help me....
The crazy thing is, I still feel so numb. I still feel so...peaceful. Nauseous. Weak. Shaky. Exhausted. But peaceful. We talked last night about the service we want to have for Everett. We talked about trying to set up a funeral fund. All while waiting for the shower water to warm up. Like we were talking about what we had for dinner.
As I was talking to one of my long time faithful patients yesterday, the words just sounded so foreign. How can I talk with such monotony about our 'best overall option' being a preterm miscarriage with induction/delivery to follow? After his kicks have stopped. After his heart has stopped. After he's dead. And I just wait for this. Everyday. I keep a kick count in my head. I keep a record of all the times I feel... weird. Like I did before each of the other deliveries. And I wonder... is it over? Just as quickly as it began? I'm not ready. I'm not ready. Do you hear me, God??!?! I'm not ready for my baby to die. I'm not ready for my baby to die.
I never will be.
But I don't get to make that choice.
When we found out I was pregnant with Everett, we were in shock. We had been actively trying NOT to have a baby. We had a just-turned 3 yr old, a 16 month old, a brand new out-of-home-office, and we just wanted to.... breathe a little. Our short marriage has been filled with stress and pregnancy and stress. Did I mention stress?
It took us at LEAST 4 months to be 'okay' with having another baby. And another week or two to start getting excited about our new family. We started looking into the future and saw how much fun it was going to be. We thought our baby just might be a little girl. Christmas week I found out my baby girl was not, in fact, a baby girl, but another little boy. And I named him almost immediately. It was strange. I couldn't find a single girl's name I liked. And we started getting really excited. We were getting excited about thinking of the baby's personality and how it would mesh with his brothers. How fun it was going to be with them all playing together.
Tuesday of last week, just 9 days ago, we found out that life wouldn't look like that at all. We didn't know the extent of it at that point. We just talked about him needing shunts and no sports for him. He would likely have developmental delays, and at worst, there could be some intellectual delays as well. Thursday of last week, just 6 days ago, we found out that Everett would never make it home. Six days ago I wrote a note, for the first time, letting the world know our baby would die.
And even now, after saying it and writing it and thinking it, it still feels foreign. It feels like someone else's fingers typing. Until the wave of nausea reminds me that, no, these are my fingers. This is is my story. This is my baby.
And I feel.... peace. Sadness. But peace. Do I still scream and cry inside my head? What mother wouldn't? Do I still wish I'd just wake up from this terrible nightmare? Every second of every day. Do I still want to run away and hide? Absolutely. Do the tears still flow? I'm not sure they'll stop for quite some time. Do I still want to scream "F-- You God"? Only if I listened to some of the theology that assures me God is control of everything, including all the evil and hurt in the world, directing it all; that He tests our faith by putting us in terrible situations that seem impossible, that He desires our praises and glory to such an extent that He would force us to go through these terrible times just so we can learn something and offer Him praise for the strength to survive (sounds a little bit like a version of Munchausen By Proxy to me).
Because, in all (religious) honesty, I believe that's a very Old Testament way to think. To think that God requires us to sacrifice what we hold most dear, even our children, to be in favor with Him. I don't remember Jesus asking anyone to give up a child for death to help others in anyway. I don't remember Jesus offering much in the way rules, but in the way of compassion, love, and comfort. He healed. He challenged the normal religious views. He taught love. He taught peace in the midst of chaos. Not that he brought the storm, but that he can calm it. Not that he caused the sickness, but he can heal it. Not that he caused the death, but that he can reverse it. Not that he orchestrated the chaos, but that he can walk you through it. He spoke judgement to those who judged. He spoke discipline to those who were self-seeking and pious. He spoke hope to those in need.
And like David in Psalm 38, here I am, laying it all out. Sharing my story. In need of constant peace, comfort, and hope that comes with knowing God has not GIVEN this to me, but that He will HELP me through this. Because I cannot do this alone.
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