Monday, March 4, 2013
Emerging from the Dark
It's been quite a summer/fall/winter here. I had what I thought was a much worse than usual allergy season and then I started feeling just as sick as could be. I could barely drag myself out of bed in the mornings(and I'm usually a very high energy person!), drifted in a fog through the day, and kept getting dizzy and/or sick to my stomach.
Finally I broke down and went to the doctor. And after having been told for 8 years that I would not have children of my own, the incredible had happened. I was pregnant - and immediately my mind was filled with visions of miracles. I wasn't sure when I wanted to go public about it, but caution told me to at least get through that first trimester - and then, when I was not quite 12 weeks along, I miscarried.
I still don't even know enough words to really describe all that dark time. I couldn't make sense of why any of this would happen. Why would I by some miracle conceive and then lose this so-wanted child? Was it my fault somehow that this happened? Was there some lesson God was trying to teach me that I just couldn't understand? At first there really wasn't much I could understand, though I developed an all new appreciation for those portions of Psalms wherein the psalmist cries out to God from the most anguished corners of the heart. I could cry those words aloud, too, because they had taken on new meaning, just as the words of comfort that so often accompany these passages went deeper into my heart than ever before as well.
I sat down to write so many times, but the will to craft words just would not come to me. I needed comfort and I needed God, even though much of the time I could only sit in His presence weeping. I know that I had friends praying for me even if I wasn't the most communicative, and to this day, I treasure that because I know I needed(and still need) their love and prayers. There's nothing that really prepares one for this rollercoaster of hope and disappointment and grief, and it's the sort of agony I couldn't wish on anyone.
And I developed an all-new appreciation for my husband. He's not the most emotionally demonstrative person, but he was the one who prayed with me and for me, and grieved with me over this child of ours that we only got to see in a single ultrasound. I've never felt so close to him as when we walked through those dark days of mourning for a dream and a life that we'd only just begun rejoicing for.
Finally, I've reached a point where I feel like I'm really back and fully present in my life again. I still have some dark, sad days but I have my words and music again. I'm homemaking and working from home once more, and with renewed purpose that makes me feel more focused than before. I don't even pretend to know all the whys of what happened and I often think I won't truly understand it all this side of heaven.
But sometimes I think God gives me glimmers - like the one I heard this Sunday as our pastor preached from Ecclesiastes, reminding us that God has a time for everything. He mentioned specifically that in Christian circles, we are often exhorted to do many things in service to God, but he reminded us that God has His own timing and that there will be times when we may speak and do much outwardly in service of God but there are also times when God calls us to be silent. I needed to hear that because this time of mourning and growth has been one of those times of listening and meditating.
It has been difficult and dark, and I expect I will talk about part of it in more detail as I blog again(there's just too much that goes through my head for me to put it all in one post), but there has been good in the darkness. More importantly, there was God. I may have been offline but I was never truly alone.