my journey through the loss of my first son and the life of my second

Sunday, March 21, 2010

what I know


Are you okay?
How are you feeling?
How is today going?
Are you doing better?
How are you?

These are the new ways people greet me. I don't get the normal "hello" anymore. I don't get the "hey."

The truth is I don't know how I am...

This is what I do know...

I know that heart aches. It doesn't hurt all the time. I have learned how to live life without the pain following me all the time. But, things can trigger it and send me right back into the thick of it. Today Ken and I went and saw Alice in Wonderland. It has been months since Ken and I saw a movie together. We were in line for drinks and popcorn and a lady next to us had a seizure and fell to the ground. She hit her head pretty hard on the ground and was bleeding pretty bad. People in the line all called 911. I don't know her story. I don't know what really happened. But, as I watched her lay there waiting on the paramedics to come I was right back at the airport. I was right back sitting in that chair at the gate. People staring at me. My husband pacing in fear. The gate agent on the phone with 911 telling me not to move. I was right back there filled with the dread. It is funny how things can take you back. I watched her lying on the ground and felt like the whole world was caving in on me again. I felt like I couldn't breath. I felt like I was pregnant again and scared to death for my son.

I also know that life is too short for this. I know that I can't sit and wallow. I know that I must move on. I have read hundreds of articles, blogs, stories about people who have lost their kids. I read somewhere along the way that 25,000 kids die a day. That is 25,000 parents losing their children. They are not all infants like Trent. But, they are all gone. That means on January 5, 2010 24,999 other parents lost a child. Ken and I were not the only ones. We are not the only ones counting the days since that day. We are not the only ones whose lives stopped that day. We are not the only ones who wish we could turn back the clocks and fix it somehow. It doesn't make this any easier for me...but, it does give it perspective. I wish I could hug them all. I wish I could cry with them all. I hate that I can even say...I know what they are feeling. I can only imagine the stories...some probably lost to illness, some to accidents, some to drugs...the list could go on and on. But, again all lost. Here is the thing...they are gone.

I also know that my emotions are unpredictable...sometimes even uncontrollable. They change so quickly. This morning I flipped out and I mean FLIPPED out on Ken because I wanted to make him breakfast and the eggs were over a month expired. He gently pointed this out to me and I threw a royal fit. We are talking a throw the eggs at the wall, throw the pans in the sink, storm off and cry in the bed kind of fit. The intensity of feelings is something I have never lived with before. It is something I can't seem to get a handle on. I feel disoriented, out of control, and overpowered.

I also know this...I had made peace with the fact that I was not going to have biological children. I had given up on the idea. I had decided that was not God's plan for our lives. And then here he was. This is one of my biggest struggles right now. I had become okay with the idea and then all of a sudden I was going to be a mom. Here he was growing inside of me. He was going to be our son. We were going to be a family of three. Now I know that it can happen and that I lost him. I can't even wrap my mind around it. I can't even explain it. I hate that I can't get control back of that emotion. I feel like this must be a dream...will I wake up soon?


Job expressed this sentiment: (do you know Job? it is an incredible story of faith from the Old Testament. you should read the whole book if you can. it is a quick read but so powerful) "If only my anguish could be weighed and all my misery be placed on the scales! It would surely outweigh the sand of the seas-no wonder my words have been impetuous" (Job 6:2-3).

My misery placed on the scales...remember me saying I'm a visual person. I can see this...I can see me putting my heart on the scale and it just outweighing everything else.

It is funny how your perspective changes.

I know that my Savior has not changed. I know that He knows the desires of my heart. I know that in this confused, crazy, sad, aching heart He will give me peace. He is in control of this life and He doesn't make mistakes. Those are hard words to type. It would be easier to accept if I thought maybe He had made a mistake. But, no.

I know that through this I am being transformed. Romans 5 --

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.


Did you get that? rejoice in sufferings...suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. Yes, I know that I am being transformed.

Hope. What a hard word to even use right now. How do you find hope again? I do hope for the future. I hope that we have many more children that survive past the first minutes of life. I hope that this death doesn't tear Ken and I apart. I hope that someone else, other than me, will be touched by his life. I hope that one day my heart doesn't hurt this much.

Hope...

2 comments:

Kristie said...

Trisha, You are at such a hard place in grief. Trying to fathom hope again... that is a very difficult hill to climb when we've lost a child. I wish that I could give you an answer to all your questions, one that would bring hope more quickly. The truth is, I think you are well on your way there. I think you are closer today than you were two days ago, two weeks ago, or even months ago. The fact that you are even considering trying to feel hope again, that is proof in itself. I pray that God will bless you with the fullness of hope, I pray that comfort would flood your home, and peace would rush in over your relationship with Ken, and that patiently you both will be able to go forward into a newly defined relationship, a new way of loving, a new way of connecting. I pray for God's true and thorough hope to be given to you today.

Terra said...

That you can even say the word and comprehend hope is amazing to me!!! When I think and pray for you [which is daily], I wish so times that I could help you in some way more!!

Love you girl!

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