Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Fine.

I'm fine.

Well, at least that's what I'll tell you if you ask me how I'm doing. And I'll usually say it with a tired smile.

And I guess on some level, I am fine.  I'm able to get up in the mornings, get the kids off to school, take care of all the errands that need to be done, get the kids to where they need to be after school, make sure their homework is done and get dinner on the table.

So, yes, I guess I'm fine.

But the entire time I'm doing all of these normal things- all things I did so easily, so lightly before Rebecca was born - with a huge weight on my chest.

I was on the verge of tears all day on Mother's Day.  What a horrible holiday to have to "celebrate" when your baby is in heaven.

I was standing in the kitchen on Sunday evening and I couldn't top the tears.  Dan was standing right behind me so I turned to him and told him that I was sad. So very sad.

As he hugged me, he told me that if I believe what I profess then I shouldn't be quite so sad.

I smiled at him and told him that I'm not sad for Rebecca like he thought.  I know where my baby girl is.  She's in heaven rejoicing with Jesus and that gives me great joy.

No.  I'm not sad for her.  I'm sad for me.  Those tears were selfish tears. I miss her terribly, with a dull slow ache that I can't even begin to accurately describe. 

As I was doing my devotions this morning, I came across this verse twice:

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.  Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. - 1 Peter 5:6-7

And the words that seemed to jump off the page at me were that he may lift you up in due time.

In due time.

I know that eventually, in due time, he will lift me up and the sadness will lessen and the ache will subside.  I'm counting on it in fact.

But for now it's all still there.  And if you ask me how I'm doing.

I'll say, I'm fine.  Just fine.

 


20 comments:

Madeline said...

I want you to know that you continue to be in our prayers. You are ALWAYS my intention during the Prayer of the Faithful. I hope that you find comfort in looking forward to your due time. Until then, I think your version of fine sounds exactly right.

Ana said...

Beth, I think about and pray for you often and my heart aches for you. I will continue to pray.

Suburban Correspondent said...

Believers still grieve, of course, and you are no exception. Think of CS Lewis!

Billie Jo said...

Love you, my friend...
And I agree with the above friend...
I never thought about it that way.
But she is right...Believers still grieve.
Hugs...

karen said...

I have been following your blog for a few months now, came to you via T. Whitaker. I've been extremely touched by your posts and I found myself reflecting on your story during the gospel several weeks ago when Jesus waited a couple days before visiting Lazarus. Why? Because he needed Lazarus to show the full power of his love and resurrection. You are showing powerful witness to God's love and grace right now.

A very devout, close friend of mine's daughter was diagnosed shortly after birth with major neurological impairments that were not the result of any genetic or chromosomal abnormality. They still don't know why her brain didn't develop properly. Her daughter is 6 now and has almost zero functionality. My friend went through years of grieving. Her husband grieved differently and that was a challenge for them. She did reach a turning point a couple years in which allowed her to lift the veil of grief somewhat. In a way, even though her daughter is alive and well, my friend still had to fully grieve the loss of all the hopes and dreams she had for her daughter. For a mother's heart, it is a journey to the cross of resurrection like no other except Jesus' himself.

I've often felt that the traditions of some faiths to practice ritual wailing following a death is both a spiritual and practical observance. Cry it out!

Joy said...

You mis-typed the quote in bold ~ except you didn't: in due time he will lift you up to life eternal with him and Rebecca.

Holding you in prayer.

Mari said...

After a death we always seem to ask the family how they are doing. They usually say fine, because it's hard to say anything else. Of course, they're not really fine. It's a hard thing, because we want to show that we do care how people are, but what to say...
There is such comfort in knowing Rebecca is in heaven - perfectly healthy! However, God knows you grieve, and He cares! Go ahead and cry, knowing that so many people who love you care and are praying for you.

jennwa said...

Hugs !!! I pray all the time for your heart to stop aching.

Joy Beyond the Cross said...

After each of my miscarriages, especially the last two I had days of just wanting a big black hole to swallow me up because the grief and sadness seemed so overwhelming and I didn't know how to deal with it. And of course, I replied with the proverbial "fine" to all but my very closest of friends. Because it was just to painful to go into how I was really doing.

So I get this blog post. For me, I don't think the sadness has ever truly left, but as the days go on and life goes on, it does seem to be a bit less overwhelming. I pray that you are given some peace and joy in the midst of all your sadness.

Micaela Darr said...

Oh, Beth. Hugs. I know those selfish tears. Jesus and Mary weep for and with you too, because they hate to see your sorrow. But they rejoice, too, because they get to love on Rebecca in your stead. I'll be praying for you, friend.

Laura Pearl said...

I don't know any human mother who wouldn't cry and grieve after what you've been through, no matter how strong her faith is. Even Mary wept for Her Son.

I know that our goal as parents is to see that our children get to Heaven, but none of us would choose to lose them so young to attain it. I can't imagine what you're going through, and I'm praying for you.

Elise said...

Praying for you, dear Beth. Mother's Day was hard for me, too, this year. May God grant us peace...

Lucky as Sunshine said...

Beth - I totally get how you are feeling. I remember vividly the doctor telling me after my stillborn, "resume normal activity" .. What!! Normal what.. I struggled with "normal" for a while..

After a while things will get back to what they were, but for me nothing seems "normal" about losing a child. +Prayers for you+

Erica Saint said...

Beth, you and your family continue to be in my prayers.

Busy Bee Suz said...

I can't fathom the feeling of that dull ache you are living with. I have no words of wisdom; but I'm glad you are surrpounded by those who love you.
XOXO

Michelle said...

You aren't selfish... Even Jesus wept. I remember talking to a priest not too long after Therese dies and feeling so sad and telling him,"my arms just feel so empty."

Michelle said...

The heaviness and dark clouds will pass and eventually the sadness won't be crushing. Until then, be nice to yourself.... And be honest with yourself and get help if you need it!

Unknown said...

You miss her. And that's fine.

Amelia Bentrup said...

We are still praying for you and your family.

deborah said...

I have no good words for you. I would feel so much the same. But what a comfort~in due time! And sometimes fine is just all we are because we can't just dump everything out at the moment.

Prayers~