Strength

I wrote down these thoughts in November of 2010...6 months later.

"Grief is not a sign of weakness or a loss of faith but the price of love." author unknown

When you hear the word “strength,” what do you think about? How does it make you feel when people tell you things such as “You can get through this! You are strong! You are much stronger than I am. I could never make it through (in our case) the death of our baby.” Do you feel as if you are being strong when you go through the motions and carry on with your life like nothing ever happened...like our baby didn't die or never existed? Do I feel as though I'm being strong when I smile and say, “Fine,” or “Great,” whenever someone asks how I'm doing?

Ever since Bob and I were blessed 6 months ago to hold Grace, kiss her, tell her “We'll see you in heaven,” and watch her take her last breath as Jesus carried her to heaven, I've felt like we've needed to be strong. We're Christians ~ We shouldn't be sad...our baby's in heaven ~ We shouldn't cry ~ We should paint on a smile in spite of the pain that we carry inside. Is this strength or weakness?

Last night, I read about what it means to be strong. It's given me yet another perspective on things, in this case, on the word “strength”. I pray that it helps all of us who have been blessed with what many would call “a tragedy, trial, punishment, suffering, or 'sad' thing.” Thankfully, as Christians, we can say that God has blessed us with an opportunity.

When coping with death, grief, or any God-given test, many feel that they need to immediately jump with both feet back into their lives and/or act like everything's o.k. We’re made to feel that way in society. After all, how many days does one get to take off work when there’s a death? 3 days? We hear things like, “Well, you can’t dwell on it…You need to move on…You have other children at home that need you…” At home, I did my best to “move on”. I went through the motions of being a mom. I couldn't let the girls see me cry and was embarrassed if I cried in front of Bob when he wasn't crying. I spent the summer with my back turned, working alone outside, doing anything to try to hide my feelings. Did it work? No! Was I protecting our daughters from something? I thought so. I thought that it would be damaging for them if they saw their mom cry. The damaging part was teaching them that we shouldn't show our emotions. That's how we were raised and that's all I knew.

About 3 months after Grace died, I found out that Britt didn't even want to come home after spending the day with friends at a water park. She said, “I don't want to go home. My mom is so sad, and I don't know how to help her.” So...when I thought that I was appearing to be strong, I was really teaching them what it means to be weak. If only there was a grief class I could have taken in school.

Being strong is not pushing your feelings aside and going on with life as if nothing happened. Real strength is facing the scary, hard feelings you have, and dealing with them...with God's help. At times, I was pushing my feelings aside and trying to act as if nothing happened after Grace died. I hid my feelings as best as I could, because it seemed as though no one around me showed any sadness. I needed to see people cry. Those were some confusing days and months. I realize that no one wants to see their friends sad or crying, so what do we do? We approach them with overwhelming joy, a bunch of thoughtless chatter...saying anything to avoid “the elephant”...in our case, Grace. Up until May 20, I was the elephant...literally. For the first couple of months after her death, I felt as though she wasn't real...like she never existed. I don't remember anyone bringing up her name. If they didn't, then I couldn't either. I wanted to talk about her, and I still need to talk about her. I never know how to start the conversation but just need others to ask me questions. I can't tell you how awkward it has been since our lives changed. Awkward probably isn't the right word. I was reminded for the last 3 months of our pregnancy that I was huge. Did I need a reminder? After Grace died, there was this overwhelming, deafening silence.

Some (probably unintentionally) cause us to think that when we cry, go to the cemetery, or do other things in memory of a loved one, we are dwelling in our sadness, that we have a weak faith, or that we are stuck in the past. I call it remembering someone we love. I heard a grieving dad, Alan Pedersen, say “We weren’t meant to love our children for as long as they lived but for as long as we live.” Our family imagined spending our lives with another baby. God's plans were so different. Thankfully, He continues to help us realize that He is the One we can depend on. He truly understands.

It takes courage and strength to be real, to bare your soul, and to share your innermost feelings with others. You might wonder, “Will they judge me? Will they think that I need help? Do they even have a clue how this feels?” It takes even more strength to tell someone, “I'm really struggling today,” than it does to say, “I'm fine,” when someone asks how you are. It takes great strength to say to a friend or family member, “What you said really hurt me.”

How many of us smile when we'd rather cry? Do we say that we're fine when we're anything but fine? I'm one of those people, but I'm working on being more honest.

For about the first 3 months, I knew how many weeks it was that Grace had been in heaven. Many Thursdays made me sad. Not anymore. One Thursday someone said, “I know that you don't like Thursdays, but...” Without even realizing it, I no longer thought about them as 'sad' days. Time had helped. Now, if I cry on a Thursday, it's because I need to. It’s not like Thursdays are the only difficult day. If it's Sunday in church, so be it. I can't remember ever crying in church...o.k. I did for a few weeks when Uncle Ronnie was dying and after he died. Now I cry because every word means so much more to me. Have you noticed how many times the word “grace” is mentioned during the service? We do. Some might think that Grace’s birthday will become the one day out of the year that we’ll “be sad”. Every day is different now.

Would we change anything if we could? Never! We have a child in heaven. We pray that our other 3 girls will remain faithful to God so they can meet their sister one day, too. Yes, missing Grace is painful at times. I don't enjoy the uncontrollable emotions that creep up on me, but we truly feel blessed that God has chosen us to help carry out His will.

Remembering the hospital experience brings tears, and that's o.k. I cry when writing out another bill to Vanderbilt. In Grace's short life, she's received more mail than her sisters combined. Yesterday, as I looked for a receipt for Bob, I came across the bill for the flowers we put in church out of thankfulness to God for blessing us with our 4^th daughter and loving us so much that He wanted her in heaven. So, as I've been realizing these last few months, anything can bring the pain and tears back. There's no need to walk on your tiptoes around me. There's no possible way of avoiding a memory of Grace. She’s always with us. We shouldn't try to avoid her...she's a part of our life...let the tears come if they need to.

So, I'm going to try my hardest to start being stronger…to somehow find a way to let others know that it’s o.k. to talk about her.

“I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”  Philippians 4:13

Feeling a little stronger today...