Despite the fact that I haven't written in a while, I'm going to start monitoring comments. I've been getting several spam comments per post and I don't want you to have to deal with those and I don't want to deal with them. So, I hope you'll still comment - the comments will be e-mailed to me and I'm pretty sure I'll post all of them as long as they don't link to something horrifying.
I haven't felt too much like writing these days. I'm low. I'm crying a lot. I don't want to talk to people. I don't want to read. I don't want to write...at least not right now. I force myself to do most of those things most days, but writing is the one thing I just don't have the drive to do.
I'm finding I have a lot less to say right now. I'm daily trying to remind myself of the truths I know and have written down before. The thing I've discovered again and again is that the truth just doesn't even remotely change how I feel. I'm thankful for the truths. I believe the truths and they do change something about how I deal and live my life now. But the truth can't take away my pain. It doesn't put my sweet blue-eyed girl back into my arms or fill the gaping hole that she left behind.
And this! I don't want my blog to be about how awful I feel since Lydia died. I don't want this to be a place where all I do is bemoan the tragedy of my life. But it's all I'm feeling right now. I don't want to talk right now about the goodness of God or the ways in which He daily bears my burdens because it takes all I have in me to claim right now that those things are true. I don't think it's weakness to share these things, but I don't want this blog to be some horrible tale of what happens to women when their babies die. I don't want to be someone who strikes fear into the hearts of other mom's who have children who can't live. I want to encourage. I want to bless. But I want to be honest too.
I know I'm going to get out of this dark place, I just don't know when. So, if I hide for a while, I hope that's OK. If I ramble on about how much I hate everything, I hope that's OK too.
That's that.
In August of 2009 God changed our lives by giving us a beautiful little girl. Lydia was born with Zellweger Syndrome. Lydia went to be with Jesus in April of 2010. This is the story of her life and death, and of our journey through grief in search of healing.
It's OKAY!
ReplyDeleteAnd you are okay. You need time to heal.
love and continued prayers!
Thinking of you! Do whatever helps you survive the week, day, hour and minute. I know, for me anyway, there did finally come a time (many, many months later) when I was finally able to think of my daughter and smile without the tears. It was then that I finally knew that I would be okay--no matter what path my life would take.
ReplyDeleteI think you should do what you think is right, take all the time you need and feel the way you need. You will still have our prayers, our love, and I will still check your blog everyday to see if you've written. And I'll be calling about lunch next week :) Which was my plan before reading this post.
ReplyDeleteJen, you write...or don't write. Whatever you need to do. You feel, whatever it is you need to feel. Disappearing is not being weak. You need time to grieve, and heal...that is such a funny word. Who would ever think you could heal? But get stronger? Yes. And I know what a tough and strong momma you are. You were the strongest for Lydia! And you can grow to be strong for yourself too. And it will take time, and only God knows how long. And one day, peace will come. And I will keep reading, when you write. And I will keep checking, and I will always be praying for your comfort, and strength...courage to make it through the next minute. Do what is right for your heart Jen. Love you :)
ReplyDeleteyour journey with lydia, the good, the bad, the joys with her in your arms, the depths of grief that her loss has thrown you into - you are entitled to all of these emotions. if you feel like bemoaning your loss, do. this is your place to document your journey with your daughter. each of these stages are true to that journey. when you want to write - write. when you NEED to write - write. and when you don't feel like writing, or don't have the energy, then don't. this is your grief, and this is your space. there is no wrong way to do it. sending love and prayers to you.
ReplyDeleteBelieve it or not, your honesty, even the brutal honesty that seems so "discouraging" is quite encouraging. I remember the early months (for me the first 18 months were the hardest) and I felt how you do and it was just too hard to hide it. You don't and shouldn't hide your true emotions out of fear they won't encourage. This is the HARDEST thing you will ever do and being honest is part of the healing process. I had to be honest too, and it was straight ugly at times...but it was necessary because losing a child is just too much to carry without venting the pain when the pain is the worst. And what better place to do it than your blog. I'm not telling you what to do, I just wanted to tell you that your fears are not warranted. Your honesty is encouraging...but also maybe it isn't your job right now to encourage others but to BE encouraged by others. Maybe you should just take for a while...take your time, take the support, take the encouragement of others, take a bat and break something...I don't know. But it is ok to be where you are. It won't last forever. You'll come out of this really hard place, you will. Don't be so hard on yourself. This journey is a real butt kicker! Yet amazing things are on the horizon...healing does come...just be patient.
ReplyDeleteI found a poem that made me think of you. I thought I would post it here:
ReplyDeleteIf before you were born, I could have gone to Heaven and saw all the beautiful souls, I still would have chosen you.
If God had told me, “this soul will one day need extra care and needs”, I still would have chosen you…
If He had told me, “that one day this soul may make my heart bleed”, I still would have chosen you…
If He had told me, “this soul would make me question the depth of my faith”, I still would have chosen you…
If He had told me, “this soul would make tears flow from my eyes that would overflow a river”, I still would have chosen you…
If He had told me, “our time spent together her on earth could be short”, I still would have chosen you..
If He had told me, “this soul may one day make me witness overbearing suffering”, I still would have chosen you…
If He had told me, “all that you know to be normal would drastically change”, I still would have chosen you…
Of course, even thought I would have chosen you, I know it was God who chose me for you…
Author Unknown
I still pray for you and Micah every day. Bless you both,
Jenn