In The Quiet Heart

“Even if you have the strongest faith, God will not always reward you immediately according to your desires. Rather, He will respond a piece at a time with what in His eternal plan is best for you. Your continuing exercise of faith will forge strength of character available to you in times of critical need. Such character is not developed in moments of great challenge or temptation. That is when it is used”.

 –Richard G Scott

These past two months have been a journey for me from the darker feelings of depression, to looking for light and feeling the beginning of hope take root again.  Not just hope for a baby someday, but hope to be happy.  Hope to have a great life despite any medical problems or circumstances. 

In a popular hymn in my church, there is a powerful line written: In the quiet heart is hidden sorrow that the eye can’t see.

That is how I felt at the start of this process, almost two months ago.  I felt like I needed to be outwardly positive and energetic and that enough time has passed for me to be “normal” again, but I felt anything but normal.  This is what I wrote about it at the time:

“I’ve been hurting a lot this past week.  A lot of deep, dark, out-of-the-blue heartbreak and pain.  I wish it would give me a little break and let me feel peace for more than a day at a time.  This blog is therapy for me, but I know I need to pray more often for peace.  If I can’t find balance doing those things I may even look into getting some help professionally because I’m really struggling.  I know life has ups and downs and I am praying for an “up” soon because I feel like I am just about at my breaking point.  God pushes us to make us stronger, but I am praying for release and relief.  I am craving some sort of answer and something to bring me more happiness, even if that answer is the strength to focus more diligently and happily on some endeavor I currently have in my life.  I’ve learned to trust in the Lord’s timing but I just can’t seem to fill my time the way I think He wants me to, because I’m so sad All. The. Time.  I don’t think medication is the answer for me.  I think it’s prayer, exercise, eating healthy, working and studying hard, having fun with my family, counting my blessings, and maybe the occasional romantic date with my husband.  But all those things are hard to get into when you feel so sad.  I have no effort or energy.  My attitude is lacking.  I need a jumpstart Lord, just a jumpstart please.”

I think part of my pain was coming from anger.  Not an overwhelming amount of anger, but just bits that have been collecting inside of me as we’ve been dealing with all of this.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel that I have been mistreated and I have been very fortunate to have kind and loving people surround me.  It comes from misunderstanding, and haven’t we all felt misunderstood at times?  So when I wrote the following paragraph, it was not intended as a message of ingratitude or hurt feelings, but just of truth.  Excuse the rant format that the writing took on, but that’s what I needed at the time.

“One of the first things people ask me when they heard I've lost another pregnancy "how far along were you."  I know they are curious, and I know that I open the door by sharing information, but does it REALLY MATTER?  Does it somehow dull the pain to be "only" so far?  I'm thankful I've never had to deliver a stillborn child, and that if the life had to end my body was able to take care of it on its own, but the pain of loss is still there.  Pain is not measured in week's gestation.  A dream and a child is lost.  A life that was growing has stopped.  That's enough.

Cliche answers hurt.  I believe in reaching out to Christ in hard times.  But all it sounds like is "Reach up to God because it's really not that bad.  It's in your head- this is hard for you.  It will pass. Have more faith and you wouldn't be so sad.  Get some perspective and then it won't seem so bad."  But guess what- IT IS BAD.  It's horrible and heart wrenching and lonely.  People offer advice as if you are choosing to be unhappy and are worse because of it.  Almost as if you are weak, or a sinner because of it.  Sure, I try to be happy but grief doesn't always work that way! Some nights it really hurts! Literally pains you and you can't just put a smile on your face and move on.  Your heart is broken.  Sometimes you have to just sit and breathe and endure the searing pain.  You try to endure the hurt bravely and that is as close to happy as you get.  The overwhelming vibe I get from others is “get over it quickly” even if they don’t intend to send that vibe.  Support is not spitting out cliche sayings about "there are worse things" or "at least this or that didn't happen..."  Yes, those things may be true, but belittling someone's hurt does nothing but hurt more and causes the one hurting to put more blame on themselves.  They think "I shouldn't feel this way."  Support is saying I'm sorry for your loss. I love you.  God loves you. It hurts because it matters.  I believe in you.  Real support doesn't glamorize the future or disregard the past.  True pain deserves true sympathy and love.  Not a holier-than-thou attitude because people that think they've got it figured out though they have never been through it- they don't.  This is true for many obstacles in life.  Next time someone is hurting, give them what they need- don't discredit their pain and preach to them.”

The Lord does give us jumpstarts, or as I usually call them, tender mercies.  He has helped me through this hurt.  The first mercy that I found was validation, through a blog post called “Why Miscarriage Matters When You’re Pro-Life” that resonated my exact feelings.  I was so appreciative for the wording and honesty of the blog.  It soothed my soul and I felt less alone in my pain.  I would like to share a section of the post.  It can be found at: http://thelewisnote.blogspot.com/2014/02/why-miscarriage-matters-if-youre-pro.html

“In this Christian microcosm of ours, somehow an aborted baby had so much more to offer the world than a miscarried one.

Both babies may have died at the same gestation -- one by choice, the other by chance. But the value attached to each child completely depended on how that child died. 

Here are some of the mixed messages I received -- sometimes just hinted at, other times outright:

An aborted baby deserves to be grieved. A miscarried one deserves to be gotten over. And quickly.

An aborted baby could have been the next Einstein or Bach or Mother Theresa. A miscarried baby was probably damaged goods.

An aborted baby was a real person, and should have the rights as such. A miscarried baby was not a real child -- naming them really is kinda weird. Speaking of weird . . . counting them in the line-up of your children? THAT'S weird!

An aborted baby should always be missed in this world. God had created them for a purpose, no matter what health issues they may have had. A miscarried baby was meant for heaven -- and we moms should just be so thankful we have a baby in heaven, and should not grieve the loss of their place on earth. After all, they never TRULY had a place on earth, did they?

An aborted baby is a tragedy. A miscarried baby is slight bump on the road of life.

An aborted baby could never be replaced. A miscarried baby can always be replaced -- "Oh, don't worry, hon -- your time will come again. You'll have more. Just relax and trust God. You'll see."

An aborted baby's mom should know exactly what she's missing out on if she has living children. A miscarried baby's mom should not grieve that loss, but instead, should just be thankful for the lives of her living children.

This isn't a debate about abortion. Really, it's not. 

It's a call to those of you who say you are pro-life. It's a call to be consistent. 

Do you really believe life -- personhood -- begins at conception? If so, standing up against abortion is understandable. But so is treating a miscarriage as a real death of a real person.

What if you didn't try to stifle her tears? What if you welcomed them? And matched her tears with your own?

What if you held back any trite, easy answers that promised God's will and promised easy comfort? What if you just wrapped your arms around her the way Christ would?

What if you made that meal, bought those flowers and wrote that card?

What if you went to the hospital and sat in the waiting room for her, even if you wouldn't see her? Just because she is your friend. Just because that's what you do when someone is sick in the hospital or their child is dying.

What if you called her child by name?

What if you went to the service if they planned one? What if you helped her find a support group? What if you offered to go with her?

What if you prayed constantly for that hole in her heart that will one day scab, one day scar, but will never fully heal? 

What if you were consistent? What if all your actions when dealing with loss of any kind, affirmed that fact that all life -- ALL LIFE -- is good, worthy of recognition and worthy of grief.

What if you didn't just affirm to the world that all babies are valuable -- but you also affirmed to a bereaved mom that HER baby was irreplaceable, and would forever be missed?

A person is a person . . . no matter how small.

And I would add . . . no matter when or how they died.”

That blog was so comforting to me.  It was hard to admit it to myself, but I think one of my difficulties with mourning was the question of what we consider life.  We are bombarded with messages that tell us that the beginnings of life are meaningless.  We often hear the term “ball of cells” etc.  I never felt that way when I was pregnant- especially feeling the overwhelming amount of love right from the start for this little life.  Not just the idea, but love for the actual little life that had just started to grow.  That one, specifically.  But I would get moments of fear where I had the thought I was being ridiculous for mourning when perhaps there was no life at all.  Perhaps I was fooling myself.  People would have taken me more serious if the losses were at 17 weeks instead of before 6 weeks, before we even see a heartbeat.  But then I look at the chart of the HCG rising before it plummeted, and I think of the changes I felt within me, and the sudden stop of symptoms and the physical pains I felt when the life was lost.  Though it was early and short, life is life.  It is not just the potential for life when it is already growing.  I’ve been told by people before “Oh that must be hard to have multiple miscarriages because you must get so excited thinking you’ll have a baby and then are disappointed.”  Well, it’s more than that.  It’s not like I thought I might be pregnant and then wasn’t.  I was.  There was life.  And then it was gone.  That is a loss; and much more than a loss of excitement. 

I experienced another tender mercy not too long after reading the blog post.  I had seen this picture many times before, but the next time my eyes fell on it, it felt like my heart stopped and it spoke to me.  I love how God can speak to us through art.  He can speak to us through any means that work for us, but art and music are particularly emotional and tender mediums for me and I am thankful that He helps me find peace through them.  I believe the picture is a portrayal of Mary teaching young Jesus to pray; he is perhaps 2 or 3 years old in the painting.  I love the oil lamp giving light to the scene- which seems to symbolize putting “oil in our lamps” and growing in the gospel, as we learn about in the parable of the Ten Virgins in the Bible.  When I saw the picture, my heart saw myself in the painting, in a more humble state.  I saw myself as a mother who understood her essential role in the life of a very important and special child.  I was focused on my role and my blessings, and dedicated all my effort to them instead of wallowing in the pains of life.  It was such a beautiful moment.  I saw how I wanted to be.   I felt overwhelming love for Jack.  He is my boy and truly my life’s work.  I want him to grow up with a mother who is happy.  I don’t want poison to suddenly well up inside me and take over.  I want to be in control.  Every time I see this piece of art now, I remember that feeling and it is a source of strength.  Kevin has told me that he will take care of finding the painting for our house so I look forward to the time where he will surprise me with it.  It’s not the easiest one to find. 

I think it’s times like these that we truly come to acknowledge our need for the Savior.  It hurts me to look at a picture from myself a few years ago and see a totally different person.  Someone who was happy and energetic and determined even in hard times.  I feel like I was a much higher caliber person then.  I don’t always feel a drive to life these days and honestly, sometimes I don’t try very hard.  It hurts me to say that, especially in my prayers, but I have to trust that Heavenly Father loves me even when I don’t try my best.  

Maybe I don’t try my best in my outward doings every day, but I have an emotional battle raging inside of me and I am fighting just to tame those demons and still have a good outlook on the world.  I have never dealt with pain of this intensity.  I’m new at it, maybe I’m not very good at it yet.  But I want to recognize myself again.  I want to work hard again, with energy and diligence.  Hopefully the desire is enough to God to love me in spite of me, and send angels to help me through the laziness of depression and find life in my life again.  I don’t want to miss a moment with Jack or Kevin.  I want to feel a fullness of love even in hard times.  I think the best place to start feeling that love is with the love Heavenly Father has for us.  It’s perfect and something I don’t understand.  It’s flawless even when bombarded with our earthly faults.  Sometimes all I can pray for is “show me your love today please” and when I can feel the spirit- my energy and drive picks up.  My life gets better.  I hope I can make habits out of the little moments I find bursts of passion to do better.  All those little moments will eventually come together to make me the woman I want to be.  Not the one I used to be, because she hadn’t been through all of what I am trying to understand now, but a better version of myself.  I’m somewhat ashamed of the step I am in now but I want to keep trying so that I don’t stay this way.  I want to start praying for others more.  I know that will help.  I try not to make too many more goals because I am already overwhelmed with my long term goals, and just the basic goals of that day.  But mostly, my goals now boil down to better, more honest prayer.  I believe that will direct everything else I need to do, one step at a time as I can handle it. 

I don’t get upset at people for talking about their pregnancies or babies (how could I…seriously) it just makes me miss my babies I’ve never met.  That’s where the pain comes from.  It makes me remember my inability to deliver them safely, and it sometimes makes me feel like less of a woman than the mother-to-be I’m speaking with.  That is a deep and personal pain in the quiet heart.  That's where I have to turn to God for help.  

I continued to work through the weeks and find hope in little things in our life.  I focused my time on trying to help Kevin figure out if doctorate school is in the picture this year, we started looking at places to move, and he got a new job.  And seemingly out of nowhere, my sister was in labor and just a few hours later a beautiful little girl joined our family. 

I was so overwhelmed and excited/nervous to go meet a newborn member of my family in the hospital that I cried three or four times during the day.  I just didn’t know how I was going to react.  I wasn’t sure if it would be beautiful and peaceful, or extremely painful.  I knew I was excited to meet her and for her to be part of our family, and that’s why I needed to go as soon as I could.

When I think of my babies who were never born, the heartache starts in the core and then it feels like the blood runs out of my fingers and toes.  I think it’s the same for whenever you miss someone so much that it hurts.  Since the day I found out that my sister was pregnant, I knew it would be a difficult balance for me between joy and pain.  It was.  She has had some health problems in the past, so at one point we weren’t sure if she would be able to have more children, but this pregnancy was perfect.  I am so happy for them, but it was hard to lose a buddy who was “in the same boat” as me, being baby hungry and having to wait.  I knew that the day of the birth could go many different ways.  I prayed I would be able to handle it with grace and not run screaming from the hospital and have a total breakdown.

I felt emotionally displaced all day as she went through labor, and as I waited to go visit the baby once she was born.  I think I was afraid that as I held this baby, just a few hours old, that I would see the faces of my four lost babies and it would be too painful to handle.  But I didn’t see my babies who I didn’t meet.  I just saw Sydney.  She was beautiful.  She looked just like her brother and sister, and felt like my niece.  Holding her I knew she belonged right where she was in our family.  It was a blessing to feel more peace and happiness than pain.  The only difficult part was choking down tears was when my husband was holding her.  He looked so happy and was talking to sweetly to her.  I wish I could give him that joy for us again.  I was hoping that as I held the baby I would feel the Spirit tell me just to be patient and that our time would come, or feel confirmation that someday we will be blessed with another child.  I didn’t feel any of those promptings or whispers, but I guess you can’t force promptings.  I’m just happy that it went so much better than it could have.  I’m proud of myself for crying it all out before I went so I could enjoy my new niece and not let my joy be stolen by this trial we deal with .  It’s not our time now.  I hope it is in the plan someday.  I know that I will be blessed with a greater love and appreciation for my next child than I could have ever imagined possible before going through these losses.  I’m thankful for the joy Sydney has brought to our family, and for the grace and patience my family has shown me as I’ve processed my emotions and gone through all my different phases.  I’m learning how to deal with grief and hopefully learning how to be patient. 

One week and one day after Sydney’s birth, Kevin’s sister gave birth to a little girl and my little niece Emma joined our family as well.  I was sad not to meet her in person, but thankful to not have to go through the rollercoaster of being in the maternity ward twice in one week. I'm glad to have another beautiful spirit in my family.  

I’ve been looking for the good things every day.  It’s amazing how much little things that make you smile can light up your whole day, and eventually your life- if you let them. 

I love the icon that appears on the homepage of my school account when I log in to do my transcriptions (which the professors understand can be frustrating).  It’s a picture of a cloud burst with the overlay saying “Every day is a fresh start.”  If I remembered that more often perhaps I would loom in gloom for such long stretches.  Even putting this post together now I can see some of the progress I’ve made.  Only a few weeks after the rant and discussion about feeling so depressed, I wrote this:

“I’ve had more good days lately- that is a big step for me!  I’m putting more effort into reading scriptures, doing homework, and even exercise.  I’m trying to keep my house cleaner and think of how I can help others.  It’s not easy or perfect, but I know that if I do my best during the day, I feel much better about myself at night.  That spirals to help me wake up happier and more motivated.  I’ve been stuck in a depression slump for too long.  I know that when my house is (mostly) clean, it helps a lot.  I’m trying to keep it clean enough that it is manageable and quick to tidy up before it gets out of control.  I hope I can keep it up.  Now that Kevin has finished his online class we have less stress in our home at night.  We are still in limbo with work, school, money, and moving so there is still plenty of stress but we’re trying to deal with it well.  Plus parenting a two year old is hard- sometimes we want to deal with tantrums in different ways and it can bring my blood pressure up, but we do our best. I wish I could somehow finish my reports faster, but I literally have over a thousand left and have to finish by the start of June.  No big if I wasn’t mom all day and running the household.  I know I could try harder.  It’s difficult nonetheless.  I’m pretty sure I will have to purchase an extension instead of finishing faster and making money.  I’m kind of upset with myself for that, but I can only give myself to so many directions at once." 

Service is too often in my mind a project or favor for someone outside my own family.  I've realized though, that service is so alive in our own home too.  Doing the dishes and making dinner to try and help smooth the chaos over- washing someone’s load of laundry, and trying to hurry to finish so I can sort clothes to donate- that’s what the Lord wants of us.  To be actively engaged in a good cause to help people around us within our day-to-day activities and chores.  Sometimes I feel like I'm “wasting time" on these mundane tasks, because the night gets away from me, but now I've realized this is how I should be spending my time, and I feel a lot better.  This is what it’s really all about.  Small and simple things in our home bring about great things.

I’m starting to appreciate the little moments of reminiscing more, and finding them less painful.  It was hard going through all of Jack’s baby clothes (I was able to donate most of them to a woman who just had twin boys) and in fact, we just sold most of his infant furniture.  That was important to me, and a step to accepting that our life is currently going in a different direction.  I was finally able to smile and remember those good times and just take a breath and remember that’s not where we are right now.  It's still sad for any mom though, to find newborn clothes when her baby is big!

I was blessed to be able to go home to North Carolina for three weeks and try to give my mind some fresh air.  We took a little vacation down to Florida for a week, and then I spent two more weeks at my mom’s house. The vacation was one of those times where I felt thankful for the “freedoms” I enjoy with an only child, even though I would not have chosen for it to be this way.  The chaos of one child in an amusement park was enough for me.  But it was manageable and he was such a good boy, so we were all able to have a good time and make memories.  Not sure if that would have been possible with a toddler and a small baby.  I’m learning to enjoy the benefits of focusing all my attention on one child.  

We lost a dear family friend who was only 20 years old while I was visiting home.  Though I don’t want to go into all my thoughts about him here, it was certainly a reminder of our mortality and forced me to put things in my life back into perspective.  It was a devastating loss and I found myself really relying on the Lord for peace and understanding.  I am thankful to feel closer to God during this time of heartache. 

Just as I had to come to terms that God called Hans home at a time we all felt was unfair, I’ve been reminded in my pondering regarding children, that “If it’s not their time to come, it’s not their time.”  It’s not really about my life. Children are on loan from the Lord and I’ll be blessed to be the mother of whoever comes to me.  Granted, it often feels as if many people get to choose or “plan” when and how their family grows, but maybe our next child is supposed to come at a very specific time.  I need to have faith, be patient, and be grateful for what I have in the meantime to gain a peaceful heart and have a happy life.  One thing I absolutely cannot do is compare my life to my friends’ lives or how their families are growing.  We are all different and that is ok.  It’s not for lack of trying to grow my family. 

A very dear friend of mine has just had a beautiful, sweet little boy.  I wrote about him before, he has spina bifida and had surgery before he was born (science is unbelievable…).  By nothing short of a miracle, he stabilized and was able to stay in the womb for 8 weeks after the surgery.  This week her water broke (also a miracle that her labor started with her water breaking so they could get her right into surgery…only like 10% of women start their labor with their water breaking) and after a life-flight trip, he was born via c-section about 6 weeks premature.  Which, for the situation, is just miraculous to me.  They have been in my thoughts constantly.  This has not been an easy journey.  I was on the phone with her and she was expressing some guilt that he had come early and that she hadn’t been able to “keep him in longer” so that he would have an easier time breathing (he is struggling a little now with his premature lungs).  As I offered any comfort and advice I could, I was really reminding myself of the lessons I have learned through my struggles.  We don’t get to pick when babies come or when they go- that’s all the work of the Lord I’ve learned.  But we just get to be the best moms to them while we have them with us.  Putting the control in the Lord’s hand is hard, but it does bring peace.  We do all we can do, absolutely everything- and trying to do anything beyond that does nothing but cause stress and heartache. He sends us beautiful miracles, and they are truly in his care.

As a final note (I know this post has grown very long because it’s covered a longer time span) I wanted to share one last experience.  I talked with a woman tonight who had a daughter, and then 13 miscarriages.  On her last miscarriage she was 16 weeks, and was hemorrhaging.  When she woke up in the hospital, her uterus was gone- they had no choice but to take it.  She was beyond devastated (especially because she had no warning), but now that her daughter is 23, she had lots of perspective and advice for me.  I really appreciated her help and support, especially the guidance on how to get out of the depression sinkhole after a loss and still be a good mom to the miracle you have.  She’s in the 1% and I was so thankful to meet her and see her strength.  I hope that our story ends differently, but it’s nice to know that she is still happy and has a good life.  I’m glad to be working on being happy.  Some days I still cry and it’s an uphill battle, but I finally am realizing it’s possible.  My fear still stops me in my tracks occasionally, but that is when I turn to the Lord and I know he will make up the difference.  I'm thankful to Him for all I have learned in the past two months, because I am a happier person now than I was then.