Wednesday, April 18, 2018

With His Feathers

It's been a week.

A week since our world was wrecked.

A week since our lives were turned upside down.

A week since we went in for an ultrasound to see our precious baby girl and walked out with our hearts shattered and broken. 

It's been a week.

You hear about these things. You pray for those that go through them. You feel sympathy. But you never once think it could happen to you.

Until it does. 

December 29th, those 2 beautiful lines crossed on a pregnancy test and we were saying, "Ready or Not!"

March 15th, we were told we were going to have a sweet baby girl, our Zivah Noelle. We were overjoyed. So many prayers answered and dreams coming true. Having a girl was about more than just having one of each. It was about more than just future mani/pedi or shopping dates and about more than princess dresses and playing with makeup (all things I was looking forward to). It was about breaking chains. There is a long chain of strained father/daughter relationships in my family and I wanted to break that. I wanted to watch my little girl get her daddy wrapped around her fingers and watch as they broke the chains of lacking father/daughter bonds. 

April 11th, those dreams seemed to shatter before our eyes. I threw up in the parking lot with my husband holding my hair. We drove home in stunned silence, one of my hands extended to hold my son's hand in the back, his 7 year old mind wondering why his sister wasn't going to be with us, and the other one gripping my husband's. We drove home to a house containing clothes our girl will never wear, diapers she will never use, and sandals I will never get to put on her little feet. 

At 12:33am on April 14th, I delivered our little girl. After one dose of pain medication, I didn't need more. My sweet heavenly Father took my pain away long after the pain meds wore off. He also gave me the most precious vision I could have ever asked for. As I lay there, breathing through the pain and the drowsiness of the pain meds, I saw her. I saw our girl in a white flowing dress in an ever-reaching field of beautiful wildflowers with her hands wrapped in our Savior's as He twirled her around. She was laughing and smiling and it gave me so much much peace to get through the next several hours. 

When the grief grips me and the anxiety wraps around my chest like a vice (like it did yesterday as I collapsed on the kitchen floor in a sobbing heap), I am able to go to that place, see her, and breathe again. 

This pain is unlike any other. I can't describe it. Only those that have walked this dark valley can truly understand. But we have been held up through so many prayers and support and love. It is amazing the people that come to surround you when tragedy strikes. We are holding on tightly to each other and even tighter to the One who will continue to walk through this valley with us. He is the midst of the madness. 

I don't know when the raw pain will dissipate for us. I don't know when the stages of grief we seem to cycle through daily will finally stop cycling. I don't know when "normal" will feel normal again, if ever. But I do know that our God is still good. I do know that my husband and I are even closer and this will make us stronger eventually. I do know that "He will cover [us] with His feathers and under His wings, [we] will find refuge." 

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