Heart of God

Thank you to everyone for your support with my last post. It is bittersweet yet comforting to know I am not the only one angry at God, people, the world, fate, death...

I started reading The Shack. I have to say that it has been a Godsend. It has helped me to confront the emotions that up until recently I had been shrinking from. I am angry. I am wondering why. I still don't ever want to get it. But, if I might encourage anyone, I urge you to read this book that brings you to the very heart of God in the midst of losing and grieving a child.

I told my husband a few months ago that the only thing worse than what we experienced with Jenna is having your child kidnapped, never to see them again. He agreed. This book embraces that heart-wrenching situation, showing just how much God gets our anger. So many people commented on the last post how God can take our anger, which I totally agree. If He created us with the natural instinct to love our babies, how can we not be angry when this tragedy strikes and we are forced to live and breathe without them?!That is asking for something unnatural.

While I don't wish to live the rest of my days caught up in this frustration and anger, I am not going to run from it. I know that God intended for me to love Jenna, and losing her has created a gaping hole that hurts  everyday. I get to love her memory, but I will never get to show her how much I love her down here. And there lies the root of the heartache. My loss of the chance to love her.

A Secret

I don't know about you...

but I struggle with the thought that God has a plan. I struggle with telling myself that God knows best. I struggle with the fact that God could have saved Jenna and He didn't. My faith has been dismantled, torn apart, scrupulously analyzed, turned upside down, chiseled, wounded, interrogated, and left desolate to tell whether or not it would survive the past five months.

My faith has changed. 

My faith in the God who could have saved her has come to find out something about Him I never knew. It's one of those secrets of God that can only be manifested in the deepest, darkest pits of absolute pain. To be honest, it's one of those secrets I wish I knew nothing about. But since grief has redefined my life, it is a secret I have come to cherish.

I have heard all my life that Jesus Christ died for my sins and how He bore my sins on the cross so that I could have a way to go to Heaven when I died. One day, I accepted Him as my Savior, believing that He did indeed die and carried my sins to that cross and paid the debt I could never pay.

What I didn't know was that on that cross, he also bore my griefs. The Bible says He is "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief". Acquainted with grief? I have read those words before, but this time those words just flew off the page because that's me! I know grief more than I ever wanted to know it or be acquainted with it. It is deeper and far more hopeless than I ever could have imagined. Grieving a child is what we often say to be the harshest form of grief. I would have to agree. I didn't just bury my baby; I buried a toddler who would never take her first bite, lose a tooth, need a Barbie band-aid or take her first steps. I buried a girl who would never paint her fingernails or wear her Sunday best on Easter to church, I buried a young lady who would never go off to college or fall in love and get married. I buried a woman who would never have children or grandchildren. I buried everything she could have been. I buried my heart and love in the purest form. 

But Christ... He bore my griefs. It comforts me to read that He didn't just heal the sick and raise the dead. He knows my griefs. He knows. He is not just about the happy endings, He is familiar with the sad ones too. He acquainted Himself with this grief so that He could comfort my broken heart one day.

In that same verse, the Bible says that He also "carried our sorrows". The sorrow of those last moments of her life flashing through my head. The sorrow of knowing I will never get to use her beautiful name. The sorrow of knowing that life itself fled my baby girl's body. The sorrow of knowing the doctors did all they could to save her life. The sorrow of knowing that she is gone. The sorrow of the loss that empty arms can never satisfy. The sorrow of the memory of the pain her tiny body went through. The sorrow of the reality of her death at the grave. He carried all these sorrows with Him. 

A lot of people IRL will tell me they are sorry for what happened, and that is really all they can say. Let me just say that I am grateful for their sincere sympathy and understand their loss of words. But Christ actually carried my sorrow. He didn't just tell me He was sorry it happened, He carried this pain and sorrow because He knew one day I would need someone who feels the exact pain that I feel. So when I take my broken heart to Him, He knows all about it. 

And what's even more baffling to me is that He bore all my griefs and carried my sorrows way before they even happened. To think that He carried mine plus the entire world's grief and sorrow just helps me.

When someone shared these verses with me, it was like a light bulb turned on. These are familiar verses but they bring new light in this dark place of grief. 

"He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted."

Isaiah 53:3, 4

Just What I Needed

Today I was having a day that started ok but quickly spiraled downward. When I checked the mail, I found this in the mailbox and it made me cry more, but it was just what I needed. Thank you, Deborah.
In case you don't know, Deborah sends babylost mamas these beautiful handkerchiefs from her blog For Your Tears.

Aside from this gift being the consolation I needed, it was also perfect. When Jenna died, we dressed her in a white dress with lavender embroidery at the top. I will always associate the color lavender with her death. The night she was born and put in the NICU, the nurse put a bright red bow with polkadots on her sweet baby curls. But I wanted to keep that bow as a precious precious memory. So to match her dress, we put a white bow on her. Anyway, I just wanted to openly thank Deborah and share this bittersweet moment. God really does care about us.

Peace in the Storm

Since I lost Jenna, I find myself re-evaluating everything in my life. Everything. Nothing is as it was. It's a bit overwhelming. When everything in this world keeps rotating and it feels like it should STOP, it just keeps going.


I feel out of place in the sunshine. Under a stormy sky, I feel right at home because that's how I feel inside. It sounds strange, but I just don't know if I will ever get to appreciate a beautiful sunny day for what it once was. I keep asking myself, How can it be so sunny and beautiful outside when my heart is so grief-stricken? When we live in a world where babies die and children get illnesses? How can the sun keep shining when there are countless broken mama's hearts all over the world? How can the skies be so blue as if nothing happened and my Jenna is not here like she should be? I keep asking these questions, as if the world revolves around me... News flash - it doesn't.


I get to thinking about what Jesus did on the cross and it melts my heart. I don't think I have ever appreciated it more than I do now. I write that to my shame, but her death just made my salvation and Heaven more real. He made it possible to see her again. He made a way. And that gives me hope, more than I can ever write about.


It's an amazing truth that I can survive this grief. I don't feel like it most days, but it is just mind-blowing that women have survived this lifeless and empty grief. That also gives me hope. I read about the mothers who have passed their first year or more without their little ones and that gives me a huge glimpse of hope. I can't see myself being in a better place right now, but it must be possible.


Lauren from "Walking by Faith" so perfectly worded it: "He’s showing me how to live life when it hurts to breathe some days."


It does hurt to breathe some days. It hurts to exist. I told someone the other day that I don't know how long I am going to be where I am in this grief, but this is just where I am. Desperately missing her. Devastated. Feeling deserted by God.


I know better than to feel those things, but I do. I know whom I have believed (II Tim. 1:12), and He is faithful but I can't help but feel that I have been let down by the One who could have saved her.


Lately where we live, it has been raining and stormy. It has perfectly captioned my heart's deepest sorrow. I stand here but I am really not alone. Even when my frail mind is doubting His cause, His love and His plan, He is right there, assuring me that it will be alright filling my heart with the the mystery of peace.

A Little Kind Word Goes a Long Way

I had the biggest blessing the other day and I have been wanting to tell the world about it, blog world anyway. A friend approached me and told me she'd been thinking about Jenna and me, and praying for me. It was so out of the blue and spontaneous, it was just what I needed - it literally made my day! Someone talking about my Jenna to me! Thank you and I love you so much, Angela! 

Oh, how I wish I could tell the world that it really is ok to talk about her. I love talking about her. She changed me. She was my little miracle, my gift from Heaven. I might cry when I talk about her, but its not because of what's being said, it's because my heart loves deeply the one I can't hold. I am just so thankful that God gave me her to love. So very thankful. I cannot imagine life without the love that overflows my heart for my sweet Jenna. She was tiny to this world, but she has made an eternal difference in my life. My heart can cry for a mother's breaking heart and truly appreciate the beautiful gift of life.

Something to Live For: Hope

I have been missing my little baby girl so.... MUCH. I just want to hold her, see her, smell her again. (sigh) Lots of moments I hadn't thought about in a while came to my memory this past week. Painful memories. But we shared them with her and for that they are precious. The more I go into this the less I appreciate it and the less I understand why. There's a question for eternity. Why. But it just is the way it is. I miss her. I am glad I got to know her. I just feel cheated, so very cheated on motherhood. I know I serve a GOOD God. He has definitely been there for me. Even when I didn't feel it, and sometimes I don't, He is undoubtedly there. He sustains me, keeps me going and gives me something to live for everyday. I cling to the hope He has given. Sometimes I just have to take Him for His word when all else fails, because He said so.

"My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which I have made touching the king: my tongue is the pen of a ready writer."

-Psalm 45:1

Thank God for the Roses

Lately... I have been having some rough days. I literally felt like I was drowning in this sea of grief, with no relief. I have been angry about what happened and the frustration that tags along with the loss has been eating away my joy. Not to mention all the millions of other emotions that follow anger...

But today I tasted the goodness of God. I forgot just how good He really is. He was there with me today. I carried a newborn for the first time after my sweet Jenna Belle today. And I think He must have been carrying me. Some might think it too soon but it helped me. It wasn't my baby - that part hurt. I realized what I am missing out on. But just to hold a miracle from God and know that healthy babies really happen. And to smell the sweet baby smell and to rock the baby to sleep - it really really did something. It gave me hope and something to look forward to. Something to treasure and be thankful for. Someone told me God won't let you stay down. Every once in a while, He'll send you a rose. Thank God for the roses.

Thank you, Mrs. Carol for sitting with me.

"Thou, which hast shown me great and sore troubles, shalt quicken me again, and shalt bring me up again from the depths of the earth."

- Psalm 71:20

Good Grief

"For the enemy hath persecuted my soul; he hath smitten my life down to the ground; he hath made me to dwell in darkness, as those that have been long dead. Therefore is my spirit overwhelmed within me; my heart within me is desolate." -Psalm 143:3, 4

I feel completely vulnerable writing right now, but I have decided to be honest, brutally honest about what is really happening inside of me.

Pete (my loving husband, for those of you who don't know) asked me how I was doing when we got home from work today. I told him I was having a meltdown a minute ago. He likes to make light of a bad situation, which these days really helps. He hugged me while he said- You look pretty solid to me... No, inside I am melting.

The further I go without my baby girl, the less I understand what God is doing. Its almost like it hurts more now than it did initially. It was easier to "accept" those first few weeks. I want to know what its like to be a mother... I HATE this pain. I really really do. I hurt so much I am just mad about it. Can anyone relate??? I really really don't like writing all of this. I feel like this a "woe is me" post. Be brutally honest... Grief isn't all bad, but it is harsh. It can be very ugly at times. And right now it is. All I can think about is missing her. Missing her. Missing her. Missing my daughter.

In spite of this awful phase of grief right now, I KNOW the skies will clear up one day. But I sure can't feel it.

Psalm 143 ended with "for I am thy servant." In spite of his pain David knew some things. So I am going to keep doing what I've been doing from the start. Breathe. Believe by faith that God makes no mistakes. Keep telling myself something good can come from this horrible horrible pit. And most of all think about her gain. Or at least I will try.

What About Them Clouds??

So I told you I liked the clouds... If you haven't read about it yet, I do. I absolutely love them. Its the one thing from God's creation that man can do little to destroy. (Well, aside from covering them up with smog, man cannot even destroy them!) So anyway I was driving home and here are some more clouds... Aren't they beautiful!? Well the picture really doesn't do it justice. It was just after a thunderstorm and some rain. The trees were the intensely saturated green from being completely soaked, and the sun was barely glimpsing over the horizon. If the skies are this beautiful I cannot even wrap my mind around how beautiful Heaven must be. Jenna's home. (sigh)

Walking with you, Grace for the Journey - The Sea of Grief

I have joined a group called Walking With You, Grace for the Journey, a support group for bereaved parents through a wonderful blog called The Beauty of Sufficient Grace (http://sufficientgrace-kelly.blogspot.com/2009/07/walking-with-you-sea-of-grief.html). In our discussion this week we are sharing the first steps in the sea of grief.

This is my journey through grief so far. I have not quite finished the first steps. My daughter went to be with the Lord a little over two months ago after 13 days here with us. The days following her death date, it was not real. I was in an intense shock from the weight of my loss. I kept wanting to go back to the hospital (where she lived in the NICU). Somehow the place I got to know her is the place that I attached with all the memories of her, naturally.

Mostly, I felt like a zombie. I look back now and think that was just grace being poured over my mind and spirit to keep me from completely losing it. I had many friends and family come to my side and offer tremendous support. When people started returning to the normal strut of life, it became real. Jenna was gone and not coming back. This was my grief journey. In spite of all the support, no one could carry this for me. I never doubted and still don't doubt that they care, but it just made the loss that much more real.

I also stayed (still staying) in the Psalms. I would read and read and read. The Psalms were never more precious. It wouldn't take much for me to be a mess, crying just remembering her. Thinking of all the what-ifs, could-have-beens, and on it goes. I was tempted to be mad at God, but I felt so guilty when that feeling arose. How could I possibly be mad at God, who gives and takes away? He does not owe me anything. At least I got to know her for 13 days. Even that thought did not take the hurt away though.

So the further I go in this journey, the less I want to talk about how I am doing. Truth be told, I feel completely guilty for being sad all the time, as if it is imposing on everyday life for others around me. But something tells me I needn't apologize for the way this grief is taking a toll on me. I am surviving. I am not thankful yet for the journey I hardly understand, but I am very aware that God's grace has been more present than ever. I am thankful for God's grace. Someone prayed that she would be born on 5-5-2009. And by one minute, she was. At 12:01 a.m. They also told me that five is the number of grace. I'd never heard that before, but that was pretty neat to me. She was our grace baby.

The Psalms have given me exceptional comfort. David lost a baby, too. He knew the pain and could still say God is good. He could still praise Him. That encourages me.

Psalms 90:5 " Thou carriest them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: in the morning they are like grass which groweth up."

Morning is coming one day. I will get to see her grow up one day. And since time is irrelevant to God in Heaven, I have not missed one moment of her life. Not even a second. That rejoices my heart.