Easter Without My Baby

Sometimes I fight with myself about whether I should write about a particular issue or not. I had talked myself out of writing about Easter without my baby, until I read my friend's post about her broken Easter. Her honesty inspired me to be honest too, so here it goes...

This Easter sucked.
Big time.

And I feel like a bad Christian for even thinking it, yet alone saying it.

Easter is a time when Christians focus on the death and resurrection of Jesus. It's always there in the back of our minds, songs and sermons, after all, it's the event our faith is based on, but at Easter it becomes front and centre. Rightly so! I think it is wonderful that it makes us think more purposefully about such an important event. Last year, all I could focus on at Easter was Mary and how she had to watch her firstborn die. This year, my focus could not get away from the little sayings people use:

The day death died.

O death, where is your sting?

Death has been defeated.

Etc, etc.

I know that people have been using little phrases like that since, well, probably forever. And one of those sayings is a Bible verse, so I'm not against them entirely. But this Easter, it didn't seem to me that "death had died" or that death was in any way defeated. Because on the way to church on Sunday, we stopped in at the cemetery where my firstborn is buried. That is where death's sting is.

Death to me is not dead.

I see it when I look at my daughter's photos - the only photos I will ever have of her.

I am reminded of it when I look in my car's back seat and see only one car seat, not two.

I feel its power when the ache in my heart comes out in my tears.

Death to me is not defeated.

The Christian faith is about more than little statements or catchy phrases we use to summerise the most significant event in history. I know that. And I do believe that one day I will see Ariella in Heaven, alive. I believe that one day there will not be any death, pain or suffering. But right now there is. And as a result, Easter without my baby was just too hard.

Always meant to be ours

When I got pregnant with Levi, I was excited, scared, thrilled and petrified. But above all the mixed emotions was one simple thought that I could not get out of my head for weeks: if Ariella had lived, this child would not have existed. You see, if our baby girl had lived, we would not have planned to get pregnant as soon as we did. I struggled with feeling guilty and wondered how I could love my second child whilst knowing that their existence was dependent on Ariella's death. It was really hard!

But then a dear friend suggested something to me. Maybe, just maybe, Levi was the child we were always going to have second; maybe all his sister's death did was bring his arrival forward in time. It was a comforting thought and one I tried to hold onto. A few months later, another friend said something very similar. After hearing it for a second time, I decided that I needed to believe it to be true. I assumed I would never really know for certain, but I liked the idea that Levi was always going to exist and that Ariella's death simply meant that he existed sooner.

By the end of my pregnancy, I had forgotten all about those thoughts. I had forgotten my initial worries and feelings completely and never thought about what Ariella's death meant in relation to my second child. After Levi was born, I had a lot of bad dreams about things happening to him. But I also had one dream that was oh so lovely while I was asleep but heartbreaking when I awoke. I dreamt that it was a lovely weekend morning, and Marcus and I were laying in bed with our two children - a curly haired, sweet faced two year old girl and a darling little baby boy. I woke up with tears streaming down my face because that dream would never be my reality. It made me miss by baby girl even more as it showed me what I would never have. For weeks I hated that dream.

And then I realised what it meant. It wasn't Ariella and some baby. It was Ariella and Levi. Ariella AND Levi both existing, just with a larger age gap between them. I don't believe that every dream is significant or has meaning (thankfully, as I can have some strange ones....drummer for Jimmy Barnes' band? I don't think so!) but I do believe that the dream I had of my two children was from God. It has put to rest any question as to whether Levi only exists because Ariella died. In the dream, both of my children were alive and the gap between their ages was closer to the gap I would have hoped for if Ariella had lived.

Levi William, always meant to be ours.

Heaven's Got a Plan For You

On January 28 2013, we were eagerly anticipating the birth of our first child. I was just under 39 weeks pregnant and my midwife came for what we thought would be a routine check-up. Instead, we discovered that our precious baby had already gone to Heaven. To say it was awful would be an understatement. Later that week, my husband and I went shopping for a dress to bury Ariella in. It was a very challenging experience - not only did we have to spend time in the baby section of shops (which tend to be filled with parents and little babies...) but it was very difficult to find a dress in her size, yet alone a dress good enough to be her forever dress. I felt like I was on the edge of a breakdown the entire time, until I heard the voice of God in this song that was playing in one of the stores:

Don't you worry, don't you worry child

See Heaven's got a plan for you

Don't you worry, don't you worry child...

To this day, I can't decide if what I heard in the song was God speaking about me or Ariella. Was it the voice of my Father God, calling me His child and reminding me that He had a plan even in the midst of our tragedy? Or was He telling me that He had a plan for Ariella? Or was it both?

I think it was both. As we wandered through the shops doing something I never wanted to do, I needed to know that God was still in control, that He still had a plan for my life. But I also needed to know that there was a plan for Ariella that hadn't stopped just because she had died. One year later and I cannot say that I know what either plan is. I don't know what God is going to do with my life or Ariella's legacy, but I know He'll do something. Over the past year I've had the privilege of getting to know some incredible women, sharing with them in this grief journey and honouring the lives of their babies. I'm grateful for those whom I have met and the impact they have had on me.

I cannot say I am grateful for the events of this day last year, but I am grateful for the knowledge that God still has a plan.

Don't you worry, don't you worry child...

Bloom where you're planted

I couldn't help but notice the lone purple daisy next to the driveway. I didn't even know there was a daisy plant there, I thought the only daisy bushes were further down. I took a second look to confirm that yes, this flower was indeed part of a small plant, hidden by some weeds and other bushes.

How odd, I thought to myself, one lone flower, so far from where I thought it belonged.

And then I heard something that stopped me in my tracks.

Bloom where you're planted, whispered the still small voice of God.

What? I asked. Bloom? Here? In a place of sorrow and pain? In a community that no one wants to be in, because the only way to gain membership is to lose a child?

The answer? Bloom where you're planted.

The flower was not where I thought it belonged. It was not where I would have looked if was to go searching for a purple daisy. I am not where I thought I belonged; I'm not where I would have looked if I was looking for somewhere to bloom. I argued with God for the next little while.

How can I possibly bloom here? I don't want to bloom here, I want to be somewhere else, somewhere that isn't a result of my daughter's death.

God's gentle reply was becoming familiar, bloom where you're planted.

So I guess that's what I'll do. I have my bad days, the days when I want to yell and scream at others, at myself, at the world. Days when I sit down to write and all that comes out are words of confusion and hurt; those are the posts that get labelled as "drafts", to be shared on a later day when I'm not feeling so vulnerable or afraid to be honest. The bad days are when the closest I get to blooming is being "blooming angry" that my daughter isn't here and the world has moved on. As the nine month anniversary approaches, those days are becoming more frequent. And it was on one of those days when I heard God's voice: bloom where you're planted.

So Deeper Still is me trying to bloom where I'm planted. Writing on Still Standing is me trying to bloom where I'm planted. Even simply getting out of bed each day is me trying to bloom where I'm planted.

This is not how it should be

This is not how it could be

This is how it is

And our God is in control

-Steven Curtis Chapman-

The tree of grief

There's a tree outside my house that, all year long, has represented my grief. Before Ariella was born, its branches were full of leaves and it was beautifully green. It looked so full of life. Soon after her death, the leaves started to die and then they all dropped. The tree entered into a long winter before tiny shoots of life began to show. It is now spring and the tree has much more life in it. It's branches are no longer barren and dry, they are covered in vibrant green leaves. Seeing the tree's leaves start to come back gave me hope that perhaps my joy would come back. A few days ago, I went out to the tree and saw this:

Capture Your Grief: Day 20

A cross. 

In the middle of this tree was a small cross. I couldn't believe my eyes! I wouldn't have seen it if I hadn't looked closely, but nevertheless it was there.In the middle of my "tree of grief" was a cross; a reminder to me that God has been with me throughout my grief journey. I had always thought this particular tree represented my grief and now I realise just how much it does. When I look at this year from a distance, it can be hard to see God in it. But when I look closer, He is there. Right in the centre. He always has been, even at the times when I didn't notice. 

I took a photo, just because I wanted to. I then realised that the prompt for Capture Your Grief day 20 was hope and knew this was the perfect photo. My hope is Christ, that in the chaos, confusion and pain of this year, He is always with me. Through Him, and Him alone, can I be sure that my daughter is safe and that I will see her again.

Grief has cycles, just like this tree goes through the seasons. It just so happened that the tree's cycle was the same as my grief's. My true hope is not the hope that my spring will come, rather, my hope is in Jesus Christ, who is with me throughout my journey, even if He is hard to see sometimes. 

When you don't want to forgive

The prompt for today's Capture Your Grief challenge was release. It was a difficult one - what have I released over the past nine months? Or what did I want to release? After a few days of thinking about it, I realised that I have released a few things: anger and control.

Some people have done and said some extremely hurtful things to my husband and I since Ariella's birth. I think I've been angry more this year than ever before. But I also know that there's no point in holding on to that anger. It doesn't do anything except make me stew over it and get more angry and hurt. And there's not a lot of point in doing that. I've also learnt that I really can't control a lot of things. To begin with, I couldn't control what happened to Ariella; I did everything "right" during pregnancy and she still died. I can't control what people say or do to me; I can control my reaction. Which brings me to the last thing I have had to release:

Unforgiveness.

Capture Your Grief: Day 18

As a Christian, I believe that God has forgiven all that I've done wrong and that I need to forgive others. Sometimes that is easy to do, especially if the offense was minor. But what about when I don't want to forgive? Do I have to forgive the person that referred to Ariella's pregnancy as a "practice run"? What about the person who went from speaking to me weekly, to only speaking to me twice in these past nine months? What about those people whose actions made me physically sick and caused a lot of anxiety? Do I really have to forgive them? Yes. I believe I do. But when it boils down to it, I don't want to.

So what do I do?

I have two choices: I can either retain or release my unforgiveness. I decided to go with the later, as hard as it was. I wish I could tell you that it was easy. That I was a "good Christian" and forgave quickly. That I have completely released my unforgiveness. But I can't, because that would be a lie. Even though I knew it was the right thing to do, I struggled a lot. However, holding on to the unforgiveness was only hurting me. Whenever I would think about it or see the people who had hurt me, it would eat away at me and cause more hurt. As well as believing God wants me to forgive, I needed to do so for my own sake.

I know I'm not the only person who has been hurt by people's words or actions after losing a baby. And that's why I decided to write this post. I don't have all the answers, but I wanted to share how I have been able to release the unforgiveness that I had been holding onto so tightly.

Firstly, I prayed. The Bible records a story of a man saying "Lord I believe, help my unbelief" and I found myself saying a similar thing: Lord, I forgive, help my unforgiveness. God wants us to forgive but He doesn't expect us to be perfect. And He never promises that it would be easy to forgive others, although he does promise that in Him we will have the strength to do so (Phil 4:13). I wanted to forgive these people, but at the same time, I just couldn't. I needed His help to deal with the unforgiveness.

Secondly, I had to choose to forgive. If I waited until I felt like I could forgive, I'd still be waiting. It wasn't a once-off choice either. Some days I had to make that choice multiple times. But over time, the choice became easier.

Finally, I want to encourage you that there's no need to forgive all in one go, take the steps you can and each step will help you get to the point when you can truly release your unforgiveness. Also, I don't think forgiving someone will remove the hurt at their actions. You are allowed to still feel hurt, even if you have forgiven the offender. Forgiving them does not make their actions right, but it does free you from the grip that their actions have on your life.

Forgiving someone is often hard. But as a Christian, I do believe God tells us to forgive others. And even if you aren't a Christian, I don't think unforgiveness is healthy.** It will eat away at you, whereas forgives provides freedom. It's a hard road to walk, but I truly believe it is worth releasing your unforgiveness, even when you don't want to forgive.

**I realised I had put "I don't think unbelief is healthy". I meant to write unforgiveness, not unbelief. I'm sorry!

Church and Grief

I haven't written on here a lot lately, in fact, this is only my second post for September. I have about 10 half-written posts in draft form, but for various reasons (that I won't go into) I haven't finished them. But when I heard a particular song yesterday, it struck a chord with me and I wanted to write about it.

I've written before about the relationship between faith and grief, but I haven't written much about what it's like to actually go to church after baby loss. I think that's mostly because people from my church will read this, and I don't want them to think that they've done something wrong or that I am picking on them. I also don't want extra looks or glances at each service. But I want to be honest:

While Ariella's death hasn't really shaken my faith, it has made going to church incredibly hard.

You see, there are plenty of things that make being at church hard. Babies born in the months before and after Ariella, including one who was born the week before. I see those babies growing up while knowing that I won't see my girl grow up. Women who were pregnant at the same time as me and with whom I had plenty of baby-related conversations. Those women have their babies in their arms, I do not. Advertisements for the two mothers groups that I had planned on attending, but now cannot do so. Seeing people get prayed for and healed (and rejoicing for them), while knowing that my baby girl wasn't healed.

I knew those things would be hard, but I underestimated how hard one other aspect of church would be: worship. In the 32 weeks since Ariella died, I've only managed a couple of weeks without tearing up (or bawling!) during worship. You see, so many songs that we sing talk about how Jesus has defeated the grave. I am so, so grateful that Jesus has done so, as it gives me the assurance of seeing Ariella again. But singing about the grave being defeated when I have literally lowered my daughter into her grave? Ouch. That hurts. Yes, I believe that Jesus has defeated death - one day it will be no more. But in the present day, death is all too real to me.

Then yesterday I heard this song:

I'm Still Yours - Kutless

If You washed away my vanity, if you took away my words, if all my world was swept away, would you be enough for me? Would my broken heart still sing?

When my life is not what I expected, the plans I made have failed, when there's nothing left to steal me away, will You be enough for me, will my broken heart still sing?

If I lost it all, would my hands stay lifted to the God who gives and takes away? If you take it all away, this life you've given, still my heart will sing.

Even if you take it all away, You'll never let me go. Take it all away, but I still know that I am Yours, I'm still Yours.

I like how this song doesn't say that my heart will sing in spite of what happened; it's about making the choice to praise God and sing to Him and about Him even when we have nothing left. When bad things happen, you do have a choice. You could walk away from God or you can choose to praise Him even if everything is taken away. I've seen both happen and it makes me so sad when I see people walk away from God and/or the church in the tough times. It's understandable but it does make me sad. On the other hand, when I see people who have been through the unimaginable and yet their faith is stronger than ever, that's inspiring. That's who I want to be like. No matter what happens, I want to be able to stand and worship God throughout the week and each Sunday in church.

A friend told me at the start of my grief journey that sometimes we just have to go through the motions until it becomes real again. For me, that means going to church and doing my best to worship even though my heart breaks at the sight of a small baby or the sound of their cry. Some weeks, it means acknowledging my weakness and staying at home. It's been 32 weeks, and sometimes I still feel like I'm just going through the motions at church. But I'm convinced that's ok. If I didn't do that, I'd never go, and that's no good either. Going to church is hard, but worthwhile. Even if it's only to stay in the habit until I'm no longer just going through the motions.

When hard times come, the choice is yours. If everything you have or long for is taken away - what will you do?

Rainbow Baby: Update

About eight weeks ago, I shared the news that our second baby is on the way. Understandably, I've had a lot of questions from a lot of people...mostly the same questions! So I thought I'd update you all on how things are going, and hopefully answer those commonly asked questions!

Q: How are you going?
A: I am doing pretty well. The morning sickness eased quite a few weeks ago and only occasionally rears its head now. An easier pregnancy sickness-wise was one of our main prayers, and we're very grateful that God has answered that prayer.

Q: How far along are you?
A: I am halfway through this pregnancy now! And yes, it is going quickly.

Q: Is everything going alright with the baby? Can you feel kicks yet?
A: Yes. Things are going pretty much perfectly! I've felt kicks for weeks now and it's such a nice feeling. The scans we've had show a perfectly formed little person - ten fingers, ten toes, and a beating heart. 

Q: Is it a boy or a girl and do you have names picked?
A: We have some names picked, but won't be telling anyone what they are until this baby is born. In terms of this baby's gender, we aren't finding out. But it seems the general consensus is that it is a boy - I think my 2 year old niece is the only one to have guessed girl so far!

Q: Do you have extra medical care this time?
A: I am seeing the same midwife I saw throughout Ariella's pregnancy. She was absolutely lovely, and this pregnancy is low-risk, so I am able to have midwife care instead of seeing a doctor the whole way. I'm so grateful for this! It's nice not to have to be at the hospital for frequent appointments (or any appointments really, since my midwife comes to our home for appointments). It's also nice to know that every appointment will be with someone who knows about Ariella and was with us throughout her pregnancy, birth and the weeks afterward.

I've saved the most common question for last.

Q: Are you nervous or anxious?
A: I have to admit this is a fair question, but the answer may surprise you: no, I am no more nervous or anxious than I was at this stage with Ariella's pregnancy. That might seem crazy to you - after all, my first pregnancy ended with an unexplained, full term stillbirth. Surely I must be worried it will happen again! And initially, I was. After all, my one and only experience with being pregnant ended in stillbirth; it was all I knew. I mentioned earlier that one of our main prayers had been that I would not be as sick this pregnancy as last time. The other major prayer was that we would be calm, not anxious, and able to enjoy this pregnancy. God has well and truly answered those prayers. I am not nervous that this baby will die; in fact, I fully anticipate bringing home a living baby in January. 

One of my favourite Bible verses is this:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

This pregnancy is teaching me the truth of those words. For month now, we have been presenting our requests [for a healthy baby and non-anxious parents] to God, and He's been answering. I cannot explain the peace that I feel, it certainly does transcend all understanding. As I said earlier, I fully anticipate bringing home a living baby in January.

So there you have it - an update on this pregnancy and my emotional state. I hope I've answered all your questions, but if you have any others, please leave a comment here and I'll answer them in a future post.

Where else would I go?

Having a child die is always going to be awful, devastating and difficult. But I wonder if there's an added dimension of difficulty when faith is involved.

You see, I'm a Christian. I fully believe that Jesus is God, that He died so that all the wrong things we do won't have to separate us from God, and that He rose again to prove that death no longer has power. I also believe that God can and does perform miracles. Once, the doctors were convinced I had appendicitis, and it was just a matter of waiting a couple of hours for a blood test result to come back before they performed surgery on me. During those hours, my mum prayed for me. When we went back to get the results, I had no pain at all. The doctor almost didn't recognise me because I was smiling and laughing, as opposed to doubled over and crying in pain. Miracle? I believe so (and, for the record, so did the doctor).

I grew up with flat feet and needed orthotics so that my ankles, knees and back wouldn't hurt when I ran. But around eight years ago at church, a friend's mum prayed for me, and arches developed in my feet. Before that prayer, I had never had arches. After that prayer, I've not need orthotics or had a problem with pain while running. Miracle? I believe so.

I could go on to list other miracles that I have either seen or experienced, but I won't. The point of me sharing the two miracles above is that I wanted to show that God can and does perform miracles today.

So why didn't God step in and restart Ariella's heart? Why, at the time when I felt most desperate for a miracle, did God not perform one?


I don't know. 


It could be tempting to say that since God didn't answer my most desperate prayer, and the desperate prayers of the family and friends who knew, that I'm going to give up on Him. At first glance, it looks like He failed me, so I could very well give up on Him and few people would judge me for that. But this scenario just reminds me of the time I was in a nasty car accident. About 5 minutes before the crash, a group of us had prayed and asked for God's protection as we traveled. For a few weeks after the crash, I struggled with the fact that God hadn't answered that prayer - how could we have been in a horrible crash if God was protecting us? But then I remembered something. When I arrived at the hospital, the nurses told me that they had seen photos of the crash and were expecting someone with much greater injuries than my slightly cut little toe and bruised hip.

Even though we had crashed, God kept me safe within that crash.

By all accounts, I should have had worse injuries. But I didn't. My lack of injuries was laughable (and indeed, a paramedic did laugh when I showed him that the only visible injury I had was a tiny cut on my little toe). God had protected me in an awful situation.

The thing is that people will fail you and they will fail me. But God won't. I said earlier that I don't know why God didn't restart her heart. I completely believe that He could have, and yet He didn't. And do you know what?

I am ok with not knowing why.

Some people may believe it is foolish of me to continue trusting in a God who didn't answer the most desperate prayer I've ever prayed. But all I can think of is this:

If I turned away from God, where else would I go?

The Bible records a story of Jesus asking His disciples if they were going to walk away, just as much of the crowd had after Jesus had said some things that were difficult for them to hear. But one of the disciples, Simon Peter, responds by saying "Lord, to whom shall we go?" That is how I feel - life has been difficult this year, but if I was to turn away and leave God, where would I go? To whom would I go?

Sometimes life doesn't go to plan. Sometimes awful things happen, and it's so easy to question God. You may have been in a car accident, you may have been hurt by family, you may have even had a child die. And I am so, so sorry that you've been through pain. If I could sit with you over a coffee (or hot chocolate) and just be with you in your pain, I would. But I can't, because even if time allowed, many of you don't even live near me. That's why I pray for you. Because when I can't be there for you, God is. And when I don't have the capacity to comfort you, God does.

And that's why I am still believing and trusting God, even after Ariella's death. After all, where else would I go?

If only life had a DRS...

Any cricket fans out there will probably know of the DRS - the Decision Review System that allows players to review umpiring decisions that they think were wrong. It's on my mind today given the result of the England v. Australia match that finished last night...with a win to England after they used the DRS to successfully challenge the umpire's decision.


Sometimes I wish life had a Decision Review System. When someone says something inappropriate, I could just ask for a review and they would be forced to take it back. Or when someone does something hurtful, I could refer that action to the DRS and they would be told by a higher power that their decision was wrong and that they need to take it back.

But then I think, it would have to work both ways. At one point or another, it would be my actions being referred. That time I was grumpy? Sorry, not the right attitude - take it back. Or when I lost my patience with someone? Not the right thing to do - go back and try again.

*sigh*

The more I think about it, the more I realise that as a Christian, I do have something along the lines of a DRS in my life. I believe that God the Holy Spirit lives in me, and He is the one giving the little nudges I feel when I get grumpy, lose my patience, or do something else wrong. Being a Christian doesn't make me perfect - far from it! But it does mean that I do have someone prompting me when my decisions and actions need reviewing. It's pretty humbling to have to apologise for something a few days later, after realising it was wrong. But I'd rather be humbled that way, then live knowing I was in the wrong and did nothing to clear it.

The part I find hardest is when I am on the receiving end of someone else's comment or action that was wrong or hurtful. Let's just say that people often "put their foot in it" when it comes to stillbirth and subsequent pregnancy. Sometimes I wonder if being open with somethings on my blog make people think that any aspect of my life and emotions is up for discussion. It's not. I'm actually a fairly private person, and unless you are one of my closer friends, it's unlikely that I want to go into detail about things with you...especially if I haven't written about it on my blog. So why is it so hard to tell someone "I don't actually want to discuss that with you" or "I was hurt by what you said"? It's times like that when I really wish I could just signal for a decision review and have someone else jump in to tell them they need to change what they said or did.

But I guess life's not cricket!

When the evening comes: in memory of Tom Salt

The past six weeks have been difficult for my extended family. My sister's grandfather-in-law Tom Salt, aka Poppa, became very sick. I can't remember all the details, but he ended up in hospital with seizures, swelling of the brain and a few other things. Miraculously, after just five weeks he was up and walking and able to go home to his beloved wife Pam, aka Nanna. 

On Sunday night he had a massive heart attack, and was once more taken to hospital. This time it seemed certain that it would be the end of life here on earth for Poppa. On Thursday morning, Poppa died. He got to go meet his Saviour Jesus, face to face. What an experience that would have been. 

Tom with his beloved wife Pam

I didn't know him very well, but had the chance to get to know him a little while my sister and her family lived with him. He seemed like a remarkable man - full of love for his family and very generous. He was quite involved in his church and did a lot of community work with them. What I noticed most was his love for his great-grandchildren, my niece and nephew. He was always keen to tell me the latest thing they had been doing, and they adored him too. My little nephew would happily spend hours (or as long as Poppa would stay!) throwing a ball with him. No wonder little J has such good ball skills now! When Ariella died, he and his wife sent us a very cute Baby Girl card, and it is still one of my favourite cards. Since my sister's family moved to Japan, I didn't see him very much. And I missed him. I guess I should have just popped in for a visit every now and then, since I knew they wouldn't mind.

One of my current favourite worship songs is 10,000 Reasons, written by Matt Redman. My favourite parts?

Whatever may pass

And whatever lies before me

Let me be singing

When the evening comes

And on that day

When my strength is failing

The end draws near

And my time has come

Still my soul will sing your praise unending

10,000 years and then forever more

During his last week at home with his wife, Tom told her that he was at peace and not afraid, as he knew he was going to a better place. When the evening came for Tom, his soul was singing God's praise. I hope the same is true for me whenever my evening comes.

Flashbacks

(Trigger Warning - In this post I'm sharing about my experiences of flashbacks, including flashbacks of a car accident I was in. Please only read further if this will not cause you any flashbacks. I don't want to hurt anyone.)

My first introduction to flashbacks came a few years ago, after I was in a car crash on a country highway. I wasn't injured too badly (which was a miracle) but emotionally I was a mess. It was a long time before I could travel on country roads without flinching or crying, especially if the intersection we were approaching resembled the accident site. It was worse if I was a passenger, as I had been a passenger in the crash. Sometimes all it took was the bump of a car tyre hitting the curb to make me jump. And sometimes I could smell the accident - the rubber of the tyres, the smell of the air bag, etc. It was awful. And while I'm mostly ok these days, I do still struggle at times, especially when travelling on highways.

This year I'm having flashbacks of a different kind. 

Flashbacks of leaving our daughter in our hospital room, of the nerve-wracking drive to the ultrasound where her death was confirmed, of having to tell family that our baby had died. Sometimes I remember the Saturday...day 3, when baby-blues normally set in. Curled up in a ball on our couch, crying the most I'd ever cried and thinking I must be going crazy, only for my midwife to remind me that day 3 is always the tough one, and that of course it was going to be tougher for me. I flashback to the agony of laying our baby girl into her coffin, and walking out of the room.  Of feeling like I'm a failure because I didn't deliver a living baby. 

Flashbacks. Flashbacks. Flashbacks. 

Why is it that I rarely flashback to the better memories? Of seeing her for the first time, the two days we spent with her, or the hilarious moments during pregnancy when she made my belly into all sorts of crazy shapes? What about eating pizza with my husband and our pastor, a nice distraction during early labour? Or the ultrasounds when we could see her happily wriggling about? Why can't I remember THOSE moments? 

Instead I hear a song that was of great comfort in that first week, and instead of being comforted I am confronted by flashbacks of raw grief and empty arms. I drive past the hospital going to and from work, and flashback to just how scary it was to drive there on the Monday not knowing if our baby was alive or not. I see newborns in  their parents' arms and flashback to walking out of the hospital room and funeral home with oh-so-empty arms. 

It's hard. So very hard.

I assume I'm not the only person who struggles with this. So if you also struggle, I want to offer you some encouragement - it is possible to get through the flashbacks.

A few months ago I was really struggling with guilt; I was feeling as though it was my fault she had died. And that is ridiculous. It's not. For me, every single test that was done came back saying her death was unexplained. But that didn't stop the guilty thoughts from creeping in. There's a verse in the Bible that I valued a lot at that time. In 2 Corinthians 10 it says that we are to take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. When the guilty thoughts came in, I had to take them captive and make it obedient to Christ, which for me meant lining it up against what I knew to be true of the situation and God (He did not say it was my fault, nor did the tests). When I did that, I was able to move past the thoughts of guilt and not get stuck in them.

I think the same applies for the flashbacks. If I take them captive, I am not letting them control me. If I take them to Christ, I can trust Him to comfort me and replace them with better memories.

It's not just positive thinking. That relies on our own strength, and I know for sure that I do not have the strength for that. I'm as weak as can be. But my God is strong. And by taking my thoughts to Him, it is possible to overcome. 

Things I Wonder: Heaven

Some days I wonder how Heaven works. Is Ariella a baby, little girl or older girl? I don't know, but whenever I imagine it, she's a little girl, perhaps three or four years old. I also wonder who she has met (aside from Jesus, I know she's met Him)...

Do her and sweet Evie Caris dance among the flowers? Has she met handsome little Samuel, and do they tease each other like many little boys and girls do? Did precious Jonah Pete show her around, since he's been there for longer? What about Desiree Amelie and Lucy Ann? Do the three of them sit and giggle together? Do Ariella and Baby Pierce smile at how they have brought their mums closer? 

Those are just the little ones. Has she met Geoff and Steve - two amazing men of God who would have been so excited to know that I was pregnant? 

I kind of hope so. 

Struggles

I read an article on the Still Standing website today that was quite good; it was called Letting Death be Your Teacher. It's somewhat confronting to read my own thoughts, but written by someone else in a much more eloquent way than I would be able to:

I know death has changed me when prayer is war. How do you love and praise Someone whom you feel so deeply betrayed you? Or, perhaps worse, seems to have forgotten about you?

I know death has changed me when life seems like the exception, and death seems like the rule.

I know death has changed me when I choose to fight with God in prayer. I give Him my pain. My betrayal. My anger. And I place my bruised, bleeding heart into His perfect hands. He doesn't heal my hurt. But He does always hold it for me.

The author lists a number of things, but these three are what got me. Sometimes I worry that I come across as not having any issues with the fact that God didn't heal Ariella. That because I say "his love is deeper still" or "God is still good" that somehow I'm this perfect Christian, even though I've been through the worst thing a parent could.

It's not true.

I struggle. A lot. More than I care to admit sometimes. I've never once doubted that God is still God, or that He is still good. He is. And that's why I have problems. If He wasn't good, I could not have expected Him (or even asked Him) to re-start Ariella's heart. But He is good. Therefore, I (subconsciously) expect Him to do what I say is good. 

And that's why I have to fight with God in prayer, just like the quote above says. Because I am in pain. I do feel betrayed. And I do feel angry. My heart is bruised, and sometimes I worry that it will never stop bleeding. But the reason I can do that, the reason I can come to Him, is because He is still good. He is bringing good out of this situation. And I'm thankful for that. For example,  the makers of Return To Zero - the movie I blogged about here - were hoping to reach 50,000 pledges before the meeting with Hollywood. They reached 56,000+!! Ariella's death is helping to break the silence surrounding pregnancy loss. I'm grateful for that. I'm grateful for the friends who have told me how their life has changed since January 30, because of Ariella's story. I'm grateful for the people I have connected with in ways that I probably wouldn't have otherwise. Sarah. Heather. Brittany. Annika. Marsha. To name just a few. Precious friendships God has brought into my life (or deepened) because of Ariella. 

Don't get me wrong, when it all boils down, I'd rather have my daughter in my arms still. I don't have that, but I do have God, who, despite my pain, anger and betrayal, is still good. 

Guilt

I often hear about "Mummies Guilt" - the thing mums feel when they realise that their child is eating chocolate while some other mum has home-baked goodies on hand for her children all the time (which are, of course, sugar-free, fat-free and delicious). Or when their child is watching their third episode of Play School for the day, while next-door's children are doing Tot School and can already read and write, despite being only two years old. Etc. Etc. There always seems to be someone doing "a better job" and that leads to guilt. 

I think there should be another version: Bereaved Mummies Guilt. It's the thoughts that pop into your head that you need to fight. Thoughts like "maybe she died because I ate chicken from the deli section once" or "if I hadn't had that soft-serve cone, he'd still be here". Of course, it doesn't matter that you had the soft-serve before you knew you shouldn't, or that the chicken was the only option and it was better than skipping lunch altogether. 

Or there's the even more ridiculous thoughts: if I'd gone into labour earlier, my child would still be alive. Although (probably) true, it's ridiculous. You can't MAKE yourself go into labour, so it can't be your fault.  "But" says the voice in your head, "your midwife told you various things to try and bring on labour. If only you'd tried all of them, instead of just one or two. If only you'd listened..." But even those aren't guaranteed to work. And you shouldn't feel guilty about something that you couldn't control.

But I do.

I feel guilty often, even though I know it wasn't my fault. 

I don't think people can truly understand it unless they've been through it. Expecting parents know they can't protect their children from everything once they are born. But surely you should be able to protect them while they are still inside of you. Pregnant mums take vitamins, watch their health and avoid danger foods thinking that by doing the "right things" their child will be protected. But then you find out your child hasn't developed as they should, and will only live a few hours after birth, if they make it that far. Or you find out that your child died inside of you, in the one place they should have been protected. You feel violated, that something so horrible should happen in you. And then you feel the guilt; like somehow you weren't a good enough mother, because you couldn't protect your child in what should have been the safest place of all. 

I think there's an added layer of difficulty for Christians. "If I'd prayed more, she wouldn't have died" or "if we'd told more people, they could have prayed, and she would have been healed". Or how about "God saved their child, not mine. He must favour them".

I know that is theologically wrong. That God isn't like that. But knowing something doesn't stop the initial thoughts from creeping in. Bereaved Mummies Guilt is teaching me the importance of 2 Corinthians 10:5...

We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. 

It's a battle, and it's tiring. But no matter what, God's love is deeper still.

Life Update

It occurred to me recently that a lot of people don't actually know what I'm doing this year, so I thought I'd take the chance to fill you in on what life looks like at the moment for us.

Me:
I'm working two days a week, homeschooling two lovely girls. They are 13 (year 8) and 10 (year 5), and are such a pleasure to work with. I never imagined ever doing something like this but when I was asked if I would do it, it seemed like I had no reason to say no! It's been the perfect job to get me up in the mornings, and starting to re-enter "normal" life (whatever that it)!

I'm also volunteering at church on Mondays, helping our wonderful Children's Pastor with all sorts of things related to children's church. It's been great! It's nice to have something to do on Mondays, but it's also flexible, so if I'm having a bad day, I don't have to go. 

I have my final exam for my Hebrew class next week, and then the semester is over. I don't think I'll be studying next semester, as it's actually been quite a struggle to focus and remember things.

Marcus:
He's working two days a week with a friend from church, mowing lawns and doing general gardening. The other days he is doing maintenance and grounds-keeping at College. God has been so faithful in providing work.

Ariella:
Four months today since I went into labour. One of the things that I love hearing from others is that they miss her too. It's been four months, so I can understand that people are mentioning her less. But hearing people say "I miss her too" is really special to me; I love knowing that others loved her too and wish she was still here with us. 

I saw this photo on The STILL Project's Facebook page, and it definitely sums up how I feel. It was created by CarlyMarie, who does a lot of art and writing in the baby loss community.

No matter what I've been through in the past four months, despite the pain, agony, grief and despair, I would still choose Ariella. She's my daughter, and I love her. I would still choose her.

Lying to myself

I weep with grief; encourage me by Your word. Keep me from lying to myself; give me the privilege of knowing Your law. I have chosen to be faithful; I have determined to live by Your laws.

Psalm 119:28-30

I read these verses yesterday, and I cannot get them out of my thoughts. It's as if they found a cozy little spot in my brain, settled in and now stubbornly refuse to leave. I'm grateful for that, because as soon as I read them, I felt as though I could have written them.

The thing with baby-loss is that many parents (mothers in particular) have a tendency to blame themselves. Even though one of the first things my wonderful midwife said to me after the diagnosis was that it wasn't my fault, often I would still blame myself. After all, if there's any time during a child's life that a mother should be able to protect them, isn't it pregnancy? 

When I read the psalmist's prayer that God would keep him from lying to himself, I resonated with that. Because I know that the self-blame is a lie. As I was writing this post, I read a post my friend Sarah has written. It's called A Battle Unseen, and I encourage you to read it. It made me remember that the thoughts of self-blame are not lies that I tell myself, but lies from the devil. She's included quite a few Scriptures as well, which combat the lies. A very hand reference :)

And it doesn't just apply to baby-loss. The devil will try to make you believe all sorts of lies, and he'll disguise them as your own thoughts. Things such as "you're worthless, unloved, always to blame."

It's not the truth. 

This is:

-You are not worthless
-You are not to blame for your parents separating
-You are loved by many people
-You do have a purpose
-God does not regret making you
-God does not hate you
-God loves you

Sitting at her grave

I sit here at my daughter's grave and the sun is shining. There's a slight breeze. It's lovely. You can tell it's rained recently, as the grass is wet, as is the bare ground where 2 day old twins were buried just days ago. 

Another parent arrives and for the first time ever, a short conversation takes place. Just a few words are spoken and then we leave each other to our thoughts. I like seeing other parents there. It makes their precious babies more real to me. 
Marco, Sibella, Hope, Ava. 
Four little babes whose relatives I have seen. 

People sometimes ask me how often I come to her grave. The answer? Often. I drive past the cemetery almost daily, as it's on a road I travel on frequently, so I pop in a few times a week. I love arriving to see flowers that people have placed there, and I actually find it a peaceful place. In one direction are the hills, a constant reminder to me that my help comes from the Lord, the maker of Heaven and earth (Psalm 121). In the opposite direction is the ocean. I love water. Ariella was born in water. It always has a calming effect on me. 

Next to Ariella's section are some of the war graves. I like that. I know that Ariella isn't really in the grave, that it's just her body and her spirit is in Heaven. But I like the idea that brave men are near her, almost as if they are guarding her and the other babies.

I'm sitting by her grave and the sun is shining, the birds are singing.

I'm sitting by her grave, and I feel at peace.

God is good. His love is deeper still.

Late night thoughts

The main thought that is popping into my head lately is it's not supposed to be like this. I'm doing a whole lot better than I was 14 weeks ago, but it's still hard. It's not supposed to be this hard.

Driving home after seeing people set up for a mum's group at church, and driving past the cemetery where Ariella is... it's not supposed to be like this.

Feeling horribly anxious and occasionally physically ill when certain events, groups or people are mentioned, simply because it reminds me of what I don't have? It's not supposed to be like this. 

Regretting having a tidy home, washing up to date and baking done, because I should be too busy or tired to care about a neat house...it's not supposed to be like this. 

And it's true. It shouldn't be like this. That's why Jesus came; it's why He gave up His life so that we don't have to. He rose from the dead as evidence that one day, we too will rise.

One day there won't be death anymore.

One day there won't be pain.

One day I'll be too busy worshiping my God that nothing else will matter. 

Death is swallowed up in victory.
O death, where is your victory?

O death, where is your sting?

1 Corinthians 15:54-55

God's home is now among his people. He will live with them, and they will be His people. God Himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.

Revelation 21:3-4

THAT'S how it is supposed to be.

Anxiety

One of my favourite verses in the Bible is Philippians 4:6-7:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

I love that. As Christians, we don't have to be anxious. Instead, we can have God's peace to guard our hearts. In a perfect world, that would be easy. But the world isn't perfect, and Satan does all he can to stop us presenting our requests to God and having the peace of God guard our hearts. I have to confess that I haven't been doing a good job of letting God's peace guard my heart. Overall, I do feel God's peace, but at times I don't. In fact, I got rather worked up and anxious about something the other day that my stomach was in knots; I was so anxious I could barely eat! (What I was anxious about isn't important, so please don't ask what it was.) And was it worth being anxious? Nope - what I was worried about didn't eventuate!!

It was as though I could feel God tapping me on the shoulder, saying gently "I told you, you can trust Me." As horrible as it felt to be so anxious, I'm grateful that I can look back now and see it as an example for next time I start to become anxious. GOD IS FAITHFUL. His peace is real. If only I can remember that.