Very honest and long post ahead:
4 months ago my life was in my eyes pretty dang perfect, I was developing baby clothes for the world's largest retailer while anxiously anticipating my first born and I remember sitting back and thanking God for this abundance of blessings that were showering over me. I worked hard to be where I was and I was busting my butt at work in preparation for a 12 week long leave that I imagined would be full of snuggles on the couch with my new born and again more praises to my Father above for a life I was honestly taking full advantage of. Then on the morning of March 27th I woke up around 6 am and remember my feet hitting my hardwood floors in my bedroom and wishing my water would break that minute so I didn't have to go get ready and dressed for work that morning. It didn't happen so I went about my morning and got into the office early knowing I had to just push through a few more days of hard work before meeting my son in the next few weeks. It was ALL going to be worth it. Then after a few hours in the office I was convinced my water was leaking and thought it best to go get checked by my doctor - what happened at that appointment will replay in my mind and shocks of anxiety still come over me as I remember thinking 'I just felt him kick, he has to be fine.' But he wasn't fine and by myself in the ultrasound room it was confirmed that my sweet boy that I had grown to love so deeply was no longer living within me. The realization of a much different delivery than the one I had been imagining for months came crumbling down and instead of running home to add things to my hospital bag I was removing items in absolute shock and tears knowing my son wouldn't need diapers or that second dha pill I had been taking for his brain development was useless at this point. And flash forward through 37 hours of labor, funeral planning the day after delivery and finally waking up Friday morning to the cruel realization that my milk had come in the morning of his funeral. Never in my life did I imagine I would be here. I didn't even know stillbirths still happened, that happened in the olden days and little did I know I was 1 in 160. I was that woman it happened to and 20 minutes later it would happen to another mother in America, and another 20 minutes after that. We all live in a constant state of 'that won't happen to me' as a means of self preservation and it's something before that day I was all too familiar with doing. And here I was living the nightmare I thought happens to others but not to me, God wouldn't do that to me. What I didn't know then is that my faith life was based upon God was good to me so I showed up on Sunday to praise him for his gifts. For the first time in my life it was hard to show up to mass, life was not good and sometimes it was hard to look up at the cross and look at Jesus. During that time I realized how superficial my faith life was before, going to mass because life was good was easy to do but going when you wanted to scream in pain at God was not. But I did it, I showed up even when a new mom sat down next to me. I did it when my milk finally dried up and it broke my heart in a twisted way I wasn't expecting. I did it when I realized developing baby clothes was too much for my grief and I felt like a failure. But I showed up on the days I was shaking in anger, fear, sadness, joy, shock and all the complex emotions stillbirth brings. My point here is never before did I experience Christ like I did when my life was at its worst. Never before had he leaned down and whispered to my bleeding heart, kissed my tear soaked face and helped fill the void of my empty arms. It isn't easy and I struggle every minute of every day with missing my Thomas but knowing fully that the only person who loves my son more than me is his creator. My point here is that some of the richest moments of your faith come in the darkest times of your life, when you truly feel the weight of how broken this world is. Our society refuses to acknowledge suffering, we don't handle the discomfort and the uncomfortable well. We live in a time where we think we can define our lives by picture perfect squares on social media and comfort can be bought instantly. For those realizing society hasn't taught you how to live with your suffering your answer lies on the cross. We will all suffer, it's inevitable. The answer to what to do when that happens is hanging on the cross having had YOU in His mind at that moment. This post Christian world we live in can't guide, cant answer and can't turn the terrible into good like Jesus can. I will always wish Thomas was on this side of heaven but I'm thankful a path was paved before me to navigate this life without him. [ This painting is called 'Her First Born' by Robert Reid and I don't think I've ever had a painting speak so much to me. ] beautiful long dresses