Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state, but a process.
- C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
In my early teens, I had a dog that got into rat poison.
I remember looking underneath the porch and seeing her body. I called out to her, thinking she was just asleep. But after a minute or two, I knew she was gone.
She'd given no indication that she was on the brink of death. I remember being confused; not understanding why she didn't come up to the trailer door and scratch on it, letting us know she was sick. She'd simply slipped away, quietly. No doubt she'd been in agony, her stomach churning as the indigestible chemicals took their toll. It was as if she knew her fate, and didn't want us to witness her life slowly cease. Her last act of loyalty, in some slightly noble, considerate way.
**
Recently, I've learned that it's in my nature to suffer alone.
I've never been one to lack transparency. With a hurt so deep, so earth-shattering, there are several reasons why I feel I can't talk to nearly anyone about my grief.
Like my dog, I don't want people to worry or for my pain to feel like this cloak I'm passing onto their shoulders without permission. If you ask me how I'm doing, do you really care? Or instead, are you wanting me to parrot that I'm "doing okay" so that you can breathe a sigh of relief and go about your day? If you ask me how I'm doing, do you honestly want to know? I don't trust that most people actually want to know every inch of my grief. And I haven't yet figured out how to hold back without lying entirely. It always comes out in verbal vomit or not at all. I can't reconcile the two.
Going back to trust...I don't share because, how can I honestly trust you with such sacred pain? How can I be assured that you won't discredit it by encouraging me to "Rejoice in all circumstances!" Was Jesus rejoicing in his hours in the Garden of Gethsemane? Of course not. Am I saying my pain is anything close to what Jesus experienced? I wouldn't dare. But I do believe that my Savior is empathetic to me. And I believe that even though I am to regard Him with fearful reverence...He respects my pain. He understands. He doesn't rush me to echo Sunday school answers. He wants me to use my pain. How can I trust you when there's a possibility you might say something as idiotic as "You'll have more children;" the statement said by itself and alone as if having other children will somehow replace the ache and hole that I will always have in my heart. Yes, I crave for my womb to be filled like I crave oxygen, but don't comfort me by disregarding Carlie's brief life and the loss that we experience from that.
Finally, I don't share because some people have a way of making me feel shamed for even grieving. The single-most traumatic, crushing thing that's ever happened to me (only three months ago) is somehow pushed to the side, replaced with statements of what are meant to be encouragement. However, they leave me feeling like I'm a bad Christian because I can't seem to wrap my mind around this thing called grief. I so wish I could just lean on the promises of the Bible and leave it at that. If I could only just repeat them, like a religious mantra... maybe I could be okay. These people who can move on from loss and press on toward the next step, so passionately; I envy them. I have always felt pain deeper than most people. I consider it a gift and a curse in the same breath. It allows me to be empathetic to situations I haven't even experienced. I listen to people with my whole heart. Yet it also doesn't allow me to fool myself into feeling okay. It knows me too well. That masquerade is fruitless.
I'm a Christian, but I'm struggling with trusting God with my whole heart and life again.
I'm a mother, but I hate my body for how it betrayed me.
I'm at peace that Carlie is in heaven, but I hate with every breath that she isn't here.
I'm prayerful, but there are days I even struggle to pray. My desperate, tear-soaked prayers to keep Carlie on earth were overlooked, so how can I trust that they even matter?
I'm a lump of contradictions.
This is me; take it or leave it.
((hugs)) There is a time for everything. A season for everything. Including grieving. No one knows how long it'll take for you to feel human again, but know that you should never feel guilty. Carlie cannot be replaced, she never will be "replaced". You will always miss her and wonder what life would have been like if she were here. As each year passes, you will feel that pain. With each holiday, with each bird you see, with each worship verse you sing, you will always think of her. But I have no doubt that the Lord will work through that pain and heal you. Yes, there will be a scar left behind. It's like a broken ankle. It's "healed" but will always give you trouble and sometimes you'll trip, fall, sprain it, it'll hurt again... but there will be waves of joy and a testimony to carry you through. With that said, it's okay to grieve. Take your time. We absolutely cannot put a time cap on your grief and anyone who expects to needs to just mind their own business. it's easy for others on the outside looking in to just say, "It'll be okay." And maybe it will be... and yeah, you'll have more children some day, but Carlie was special and will not be replaced. And you know what? That's okay. She was a gift to you, a blessing just like all children are. She's still your family, and there is no goodbye, only a "see you later." I wish I could give you a big hug right now. Just know I'm thinking of you and praying for you always!!!
ReplyDeleteI agree with Jessi - Carlie will never be replaced (as you already know fully, heart and soul). Carlie will always be your first child, the oldest sister of children that come next. Just as one day we will be face to face with Jesus, I also believe you will see Carlie again, face to face - the soul that lived within you - and now is in the presence of Christ. Carlie was extraordinary in all that she accomplished from the womb - I truly believe her life accomplished more for the kingdom than the lives of many who live to old age. God had a purpose for the exact length of her life - every day was meaningful.
ReplyDeleteI know this month will bring pain, possibly more pain than any month yet except for the month we lost sweet, beautiful Carlie. You are right when you say it's been SUCH a short time. It's unreasonable that anyone should expect you to be "over" it. It's been a little more than a couple of months. No one adjusts to anything - especially something as tragic as the loss of a child - that fast.
The truth is, people are selfish. They want to be comfortable in every aspect of their lives, whether that's not dealing with someone else's sorrow/pain or not witnessing/evangelizing, etc. If something disturbs that comfort, they dismiss it. It's sad but true. May your story continue to bring people out of their comfort zone.
We are all a lump of contradictions. You are God's beloved child, unique and beautiful as He created you. Loved. Accepted - if by no one else - by Him, through the righteous blood of our sweet Jesus, the same Jesus whom Carlie knows as her Protector now.