Today is always a bittersweet day for me, and I never actually intended to write the finale of this series on the actual day of my loss. Somehow, I cannot think of another way to honor my loss than by completing the story.
Time passed slowly. My heart raced with emotions I had neither experienced before nor knew I could actually actually feel. Although I could not adequately articulate my grief, it hung heavily like smoke in the air, threatening to choke the breath from my lungs. I went through the days in a functional stupor, taking care of my young boys with delicate touches, afraid that they too would vanish with any misstep. A few dear friends braved my emotions and sat with me, brought me flowers, and shared their grief. I am forever grateful.
My sister-in-law's upcoming nuptials gave me something to look forward to. An exciting vacation to a tropical locale was just what I needed. The sand, the water, the food - I had my mind set to enjoy this trip with reckless abandon because life had thrown me a curveball that had literally struck me out. By the time October 2015 arrived, I would be back to "normal" and my body would be beach-ready. That was the plan. I didn't know exactly how I would get there, but it was worth the journey.
Robert Burns said, "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry". Boy, was he right. Not too long after the holidays, the conversation shifted to revisiting our timing regarding having another baby. Although I was beginning to heal, tucked away in a tiny, dark corner of my heart a little morsel of disbelief resided. Sooner than later, this scripture I had heard often growing up would become an ebenezer of this loss we experienced. Many are the plans in a person's heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails (Proverbs 19:21 NIV). At that very moment, when I teetered on the precipice of faith in God's power and fear that I wasn't worthy of this precious gift, He was already knitting life together in my womb. Because of the varying hormone levels over the past months, it wasn't until a whole month later that I realized what was really going on. I was pregnant.
When I saw the lines, I wept. Not from fear, but from shame. I had wrestled with anger internally, while pasting a smile on my face for the world. In the midst of my pain and despite my wounded spirit, God did something for me that I had all but given up on Him doing. Here I was the undeserving recipient of His grace again, but this time, there was an unusual holiness attached. This was a sermon in learning His sovereign majesty and the glory that He reserves for Himself. He blesses whom He will, and at this time, I was in the front of the line with tears washing away the soil of unbelief and allowing the mirror of faith to accurately reflect His dynamic love for me.
On September 29, 2015, our daughter Logan was born. Just a little over a year after the miscarriage. She will be three soon, and she is every bit of what we never knew we needed. Maybe your story will turn out like mine, and maybe it won't. Let God pour His love over you so that you desire the Giver and not just the gift. I know some of you are still struggling with the sting of loss. Someone is waiting to see double lines for the first time. There may even be some that have experienced multiple seasons of grief that seem to have no end. I am praying for you as you read this. You are not alone.
Want to know how this story began? Check out the journey below.
From My Restored Heart to Yours,
Quanny