My heart pounds with so much inside me. I talked with Casja tonight and she noticed as well that I don't write as much from my thoughts or emotions as I did when I began this blog 5 years ago. It was meant to be a place where I could vent my struggles and pain. To be real with myself. I never thought about who read it, it was my way of trying to make sense of it and show that I wanted the Lord to move through my pain and show His Love. Most people don't want to read about hardship. Heck, I don't even want to read or write my thoughts on my trials. But the more and more I try to write about surface things, when deep inside there is so much more, I realize I am making myself into something I am not. I don't even think I will have one of those perfect blogs (or lives for that matter) that post photos of all the exciting things I am doing. I want to be like that, but with the pain we have experienced just this year (never mind the circumstances of my entire life being a battle) has really seem to be pressing Bryan and I down and we are plainly just hurting. There is only so much you can express that is hopeful, because sometimes we just are too hurt or frustrated to even hope. And there is no wrong in this because it doesn't end there with us, we take all of it and we seek the Lord. It provides a way for us to know and seek Him and obtain Love and Wisdom back, and in that we do become stronger. It's so much more than a Bible verse. I wish I could show you how deep this really is. We are not angry or bitter. People are afraid of people who feel this way, even when they have a perfectly good excuse to and need to work through these emotions. Perhaps we are more confused, jealous, and feel somehow we got over looked or we just didn't do something right. I told Casja, during our 1 hour conversation! (I needed that my sweet friend, thank you), that the thing that scares me the most out of all this, is it is not just one situation that has hurt me deeply to where people say "I never even heard of anybody having to go through that." It just keeps going, and I want it to stop. I want to rejoice. I want there to be more dates in my mind I can't wait to celebrate, then ones I can't handle because they remind me of such pain.
The greatest pain I ever felt that I never even knew was even possible is the pain I experienced when my daughter Natalie Grace was stillborn at 8 months of pregnancy.
I held my breathless daughter, Natalie. A precious life I was so honored and blessed to feel grow in my body and in my heart for 8 months. I buried her and then everyone expected me to "Just get over it." It was so hard to comprehend the pain of what happened, that others did what they had to do, tell me that I had to get over it and move on. But scenes keep playing back in my head. Even to this day I am flashbacked by someones comment, or a certain scent of saying to those days I spent wondering about Natalie. I think about my joy during that time and how much I believed and prayed and sung, so the Lord would bless me and let her live. I stayed on bed rest for almost 3 months. Many people came and visited me. Everyone of them assured me that she would be ok. But He didn't allow her to live and I had to labor for 3 days. Not labor with knowing I would have a great result, our child, but no, a terrible labor with wondering what the precious few moments I had with my baby would be like. Truly thinking of women who have to deliver babies who are not longer with us, those born angels, is hard. We read about things like that happening, but until you comprehend all the actually minutes and things they do with sadness, it seems like the baby is delivered and that is it, but it is not true. It takes days of agony. I was drugged from medicines to help and after 30 minutes of holding her they took her away. I was afraid I wouldn't remember her because I was so tired, drugged, confused, and sad. We didn't know back then of organizations like "Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep" I wanted to die. They rolled me into the "Mother"s Nursery Wing" (nice Huh?) of the hospital and hung some type of warning on my door to tell nurses that we lost the baby. They didn't even keep me 5 hours after I had her, even though I was in so much physical pain. I was wheeled down to the car not with my baby, but a box. I small little box with a purple ribbon. Inside was the only thing I was ever going to have of Natalie, the cap and blanket she wore in the photo they gave me along with 3 cards of foot prints under a small happy pink teddy bear saying "It's A Girl" 1lb 3 oz. 3:13 am October 2, 2003. I took 3 photos of Natalie and they came out very bad. I posted one of her little feet on her last Angel Day in 1008. I never knew it was ok to take photos of her, I was so sad. That is way I like "Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep." I wish I had more photos of her, but I am glad this organization can help parents today be able to document their babies life no matter how short it was. It would have given me deeper healing to see her face and little hands and me holding her that day. I stared a lot after that drive home. Just staring off into anything, but nothing at the same time. Curiosity struck me as I saw how uncomfortable people were around me. I was unable to ease their minds with how I was doing. I was heart broken and sad. Could I comprehend God's role in this? I struggled to be strong and keep believing. But I was alone, everyone else around had no consolation, and they themselves were grieving and hurting by keeping distance. But I still had to go through the physical loss. My nutrients came in to feed the baby 2 days after she was born. My body craved my child to provide and comfort her. I grew feverish and became sick as it infected my body and had to take antibiotics. I couldn't even move it hurt so bad. I cried more during these days then I did during her funeral. My heart, emotions, and my body called out to her and wanted her with me. My hormones did not relinquish. They tortured me night and day, minute by minute, second by every breath I forced myself to take in. Yes, breathing can hurt, it feel like a task to breath. Pain can be that severe. My abdomen was swollen and I can remember being angry at my body. I wanted there to be nothing that could show she was there, or that I was just pregnant. It hurt too much to look at myself. I wanted to see no bulge, my hope had been taken from me, all I was was a shell, an empty shell who looked terribly wrong. But it happened, and it didn't happen to someone else, it happened to me. It was a part of my life whether or not I wanted it to be. I couldn't imagine it away. So now what? What was I going to do?
I was going to BELIEVE.