Out-pour Poem Day One

The grief is so thick.
I can barely see through it.
I can hardly move in it.
It catches my breath.
And chokes me.
It threatens to engulf me.
In waves so powerful,
I want to let it.
That feels dangerous.
My heart constricts,
and bends and bleeds
Not understanding
nonetheless believing
what I don’t even want
to believe.

God, why would you?
God, how could you?
You know that I will praise you through everything -
And still you allow this suffering.

Place Your hands on me
Guide me through this grief
I cannot see past today
Show me what
You know I don’t know-
when I can know.

I trust You. I trust You. I say it and mean it. I trust You.

I understand nothing,
but by faith,
and prayers,
by Your Hands
I am held.
So I understand something,
and I understand nothing
in a grief this thick.

Out-pour Poem Day Two

The new reality:

44 days
That's how long I've spent adjusting to my new reality: pregnant.
Another child.
Really, God?  Wow.  At the age of 41, nonetheless.
I was confused for sure, but soon this sweet new secret of Life, Joy, and Love began to glow within me.
We waited until the 8 week ultrasound (to see the heart beat) before we told family.
Of course, sweet Brielle was ecstatic- and in shock.
She began making plans.  And an announcement sign.
We all began to imagine our new reality, talked about it, dreaming.
Life with a baby!  Now? Our plans continued as normal, but with an anticipation, expectation.

My midwife scheduled an ultrasound for eleven weeks.  She never said "high risk" but rather, "Advanced Maternal Age." I scoffed.  I maybe was a little coy.  I'm healthier now than I've ever been in my entire life.  I've always been fertile and had three healthy pregnancies. No wonder I was pregnant again.
I know I'd thought of it a few times since learning of the pregnancy...
But I was not thinking about it at all when the ultrasound began.
I had brought Brielle!  She was giddy.
Tiffany was there with us too.  We were going to see the baby!
Except we didn't.
The nightmare slowly unfolded in a surreal sort of why.
I can't even explain what I was thinking or feeling.  I hugged Brielle.  I felt SO bad.
I did not see this coming.  No heartbeat.
We went over to the Midwives' Clinic, where they took us to private room.
I called Will, crying.
He couldn't understand what I was saying through my sobs.
He had not seen this coming.
The midwife and intern came in to speak with me.  They believed the baby had stopped growing somewhere around nine weeks gestation.
They asked if they could pray for me, for us.
Yes.  Yes, absolutely.
I bawled.
And I didn't stop crying for three days.
Or maybe four.  Today is day four.  I've cried a little less today.  Allowing myself time to think and process life now.
I won't be delivering a baby in October.
I won't be pregnant through summer.
So...what then? I can give blood.  I can drink coffee.  I can train for and run that Marathon I'd signed up for (last year) in August.  I can backpack in the Fall.
All meaningless.
All completely meaningless.
I wanted the baby.  I wanted my child.  I wanted to feel her kick in my womb.  I wanted to birth her into my arms, and nurse her in the silence of the night.  I wanted to cloth diaper her bum and wrap her to me for Brielle's soccer games. I wanted to listen to Brielle SING to her. I wanted to smell her fresh baby scent.  I wanted to run with her in one of those jogging stroller contraptions, hike mountains with her on my back - and show her everything I love - and all I've learned in my life.  

Will, Brielle (even Josh & Tyler, though they don't live at home any longer), we all wanted her.

4 days.
That's how long I've had to adjust to my new reality.

Out-pour Poem#2 Day Three

today i am stripped of all pride, all dignity
i must to cling to Your promises and Your words
that speak the truth about me
i am exposed and today i do not care
what does it matter?
i would have given it all up, like You asked me to
i was willing and You knew it!
I was, and still am, willing to do whatever You ask of me.
That damn nacre.
i can grow hard, even in loving you
or i can heal
while You protect me
and grieve with me.
today i shed all pretenses of what i thought i knew
when I was shaken and suffering 
You reached in and rescued me
You saved my life.  To bring me here.  To give me joy.  
To overflow my cup of life abundantly.
Even knowing my heart would sacrifice to this outcome-
and You knew the pain it would bring me
how it would come close to consume me
and how I would question and wrestle the nonsense of it all
Still- You also knew I would know better
than to be tempted to submit to anything other than You.
By now, I know.
Nothing else will satisfy.  No drink.  No food.  No drug.
Not one person can hold me.  
You always do.
I am leaning in.  I am listening.  I am waiting.
I am searching and groping in the dark.
I am desperate.  I care so much less about everything unimportant.
I care so much less about what they'll say or think
If they'll balk or gasp, or whisper, or feel so sorry for me
Or if they'll even care.  
i am stripped of all pride, of all dignity
what You God - what you alone SAY- stands 
in the chasm of this pain
and I believe You will not waste this.

Out-pour Poem Day Three

Today is raw.  It is fresh like an open wound that hasn't even been assessed yet.  Bone and marrow are exposed.  I cannot see it, but I know it is there.  I am wretched with a grief I've never known and do not understand.  I know that I am not alone.  Others have felt this before and someone may feel this one day.  
When in the deep, deep parts of this kind of grief it is like moving blindly, uncertainly, painfully.  Feeling around, grasping for breaths, choked between torrents of tears.

Ask Why.
Reverberating silence will follow.
There are no answers here.  

Out-pour Poem Day Four

Today all I can do is crawl up into Your lap and rest
I am tired, so tired
Your arms are wide, strong,
but they wrap me gently and securely

You are clean and pure
Everything I am not
But with You I feel new
like fresh mountain air
I feel known
And seen
And heard
even though I have no words today

I am sad, so sad
Your hand moves over my hair
In a sweet caress
And I can rest here
Indefinitely

When I learned to grieve

When we began preparing to move last October, and all of the sorting and packing got real - I found myself grieving.  I grieved off and on for about a week.
I recalled all of the memories we'd made in that home.  All of the seasons of life.  Little boys and legos, Christmases, birthdays, game nights, tears and bandages, bike rides, play fights, bringing Brielle home, neighbors, street ball, and even the growing pains.  We'd moved in when they were five and two and had lived there over sixteen years.
It wasn't the home or neighborhood I grieved (though I did love them both).  
I knew they were just places.
It was the season of life I grieved.  It was over.  We'd raised our boys.  They'd both moved out in the past year.  We'd had eighteen full years with each of them.  And it had come to a close.
I knew all of the things: 
 - they were supposed to launch
 - there's a new season on the horizon
 - at least we still have Brielle at home
Let me say this - I knew I needed to grieve.  I don't know how I knew, but I did.  It was important in the process of my moving on.  I did not get stuck there.  But I did allow myself to FEEL it.
And for someone who feels deeply (and was once very skilled at escaping anything that hinted of unpleasant) this was a scary place to be.
So, I asked God to help me process and walk through it - believing there was another side that brought me out, through faith, to a new viewpoint.  And He did.  He said, "Mourn Beloved.  You loved them deeply, dearly, and sacrificed for their lives.  You will move on to the other side and love them still."
And He showed me that He loved them so much more than I did.  He gently taught me to trust them into His care in a newer and deeper way.
I felt alone in my thoughts and feelings, so I didn't share them much.  But God held me right through it all.  I'm so glad I learned this about grieving then. 

Recently, my bible app study explained it like this: