Two times I have laid on that table, looked up that screen, and wept because my child was still. Two times the Doppler was silent. Two times the Lord shattered my heart.
I could not will the tears to stop falling the first time. I clung to Christ, His Word, His promises and His hope. I grieved heavily but trusted Him fully.
I could not will the tears to come the second time. I was crushed. Felt forsaken. Confused. Hurt. I was doubtful of all those things I knew about Him in my head. Numb. For four weeks that baby stayed with me. I carried death. I was physically tormented for days upon days as my body recognized death and rid itself of it.
It wasn’t until I returned into the world, after my baby was gone and the physical healing had begun, that I was hit with grief.
Trapped in the hallway, walking in front of the one who still carries her baby. She tells a man she’s tired. I want to scream. I want to lash out at her and at the One who took away. I want to fall flat and weep all those tears that I should have been shedding for weeks.
But I keep walking. Tears surface and I’m thankful to finally feel sadness. Someone hugs me and I struggle to stay composed.
Why on earth would I feel like I need to stay composed? My baby died. I saw him still, I felt pain delivering him, I’ve been isolated and lonely and disconnected. My own family’s barely reached out, the knocks on the door have been few, and I’m a mess. Why shouldn’t I wail right there?
But I don’t. I don’t.
I walk upstairs. Take my seat next to the teenagers. Smile as I’m expected to. But every time he says the word “death” in his message I can barely stand it. Because I know it intimately.
That night I lay in bed and silently soak the sheet with tears. He lays a hand on me to test my breathing and knows I’m still awake.
So he reads.
“But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”
I can’t stand it. Because I know He has all power and He did this.
“We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed;”
I FEEL CRUSHED!
“Perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;”
Why not? I feel despair and forsaken, though I know in my head I’m not. How am I not destroyed by this?
“Always carrying in the body the death of Jesus. . .”
I know what it is to carry death.
“So that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you.”
So the death in me is to work life in you.
Cruel. It feels so cruel right now.
But I know it’s truth. I know it’s good. I know that one day I will get to that point where I can do more than write it. I will speak it again.