It could always be worse...

...the phase I have told myself over and over again in an attempt to make it through a challenging day or moment. But the phrase never seemed to make me feel better...really it made me feel worse.

I told myself perhaps it was because everything is relative and this is my worse.  

It wasn't until a John Piper bible study this summer when I realized why it offered me no comfort. We talked about God's ultimate gift he gave to us.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.  John 3:16

I have heard this verse a bizzion times, but never had thought about it in this way. God has to give the ultimate gift: HIS CHILD. He later asked Abraham to do the same. There are so many things God could have done to prove His love and commitment to us, but none would come as close as giving his OWN child. 

I am in no way comparing myself to God or even Abraham, because frankly I think I would have run for the hills had God given me a choice about taking Claudette. It just helped me realize that even God agrees there is really nothing greater than losing a child. 

Yes, I could lose my husband. Yes, I could lose my five year old or three year old. Or heaven forbid my entire family could die after horrible persecution. The point is that even though further, catastrophic devastation can happen, the worst already has.

I truly believe God understands this and it brings me great comfort that I have that in common with my Father. That I can cry to him and he "gets it".  It also has helped me understand the ultimate gift God gave me. 

After losing a child, it now takes my breathe away that God would knowingly give his child for US!

People who are hurting, hurt

There is a dark underbelly of grief most don't talk about fully. Anger.

Anger will grip onto your soul and take hold permanently lest you be careful. Anger will cease your existing life and produce something unrecognizable on the other side.

When I was younger and more naive to the amount of pain in this world, I would often become so unsympathetic to others who lashed out at me in what I felt to be a unmerited way.

Often times my patients will take out their lack of control and pain that afflicts their bodies on me. I didn't get it at first and grew resentful. I would go home from thirteen hours on my feet and wonder why someone would have the audacity to complain about it taking too long to get an orange Popsicle when I am saving their life. Later, I began to understand the only thing that patient could control at the moment was the color and timing of their Popsicle.

I am sorry to say it, I am often the person that lashes out now. It frustrates me that I can't fully get over the family and friends who haven't acknowledged the life or death of our daughter. It frustrates me that I can't stay focused on the positive things and people in my life.

Instead, I often find myself quick to make snap judgements and hateful comments. Truth be told, there is a part of me that wants others to hurt as much as I do. I want others to understand what it feels like to long to hold your child, reach out to call your mom for comfort and and realize she is gone too. Many I am sure are thinking well you have a big family and lots of support, reach out to them. You are right. I should. But the anger inside of me won't allow such rationale thoughts.

Anger is sadness in action, right?

I don't write this to complain out my life or gain further sympathy, but simply to understand the next time someone bites your finger off for what seemingly was a benign act on your part remember people who are hurting, hurt.

On Birthdays

Tuesday marks the 5th anniversary of me becoming a mommy. Henry Hudson has brought so much joy into my life since that hot day in August.

But there have been many sad days since. We have gone on to have five children in those short five years, and yet only two of them do we get to celebrate birthdays on this earth.

Birthdays are BIG for us...especially first birthdays. I am super anxious about Claudie's coming up in 12 weeks. Instead of planning her party, I will be planning our Kisses For Claudie event for others in her honor. It keeps me focused but it isn't enough.

All this celebrating of Henry's birthday this weekend makes me anxious and sad. I want to call my mom and tell her about it. I want her to be there. I want his sister to be on my lap at the party. So does Henry. He told me a couple nights ago, he wanted to give all his gifts to others who don't have any. This is his baby sister's influence. Claudie has done so much to make her brother wiser and kinder. 

It is weird how the best of days are the hardest of days as well. 

Grief changes everything.