Wow it’s been awhile! Blogging during Josiah’s life and then again during the past year without him has been very therapeutic to me. It was a great way for me to process the trauma and do the hard grief work. But more than that, I felt lead by God to write. I think I’ve shared this before but there were many times when I would wake up during the night and write words that I 100% believe God was speaking through me. Maybe the purpose was to bare witness to others or maybe it was simply God’s way of speaking to me personally. Whatever Gods purpose for my writing, I benefited from it immensely.
But it has been a while and the truth is that I’ve been struggling. I’ve let my thoughts and time drift from spending time with God to spending time on life. As life has picked up and two kids turned into three, the time I spent on my relationship with God dwindled. And as a result, I started to crack. I went from centering my life on an eternal perspective to slowly turning inward and living from an earthly one. I’m not saying this is an excuse, but giving birth to my fourth child in five years has taken a toll on me. The sleepless nights and hormone changes from being a new mom definitely made this time in my life difficult. It’s created less time for me to do “grief work.” And that’s the stage of grief I’m in. Life has moved on and I’ve struggled with how to move on too. How I’ll raise three kids while desperately missing the one not present. I think of Josiah just as often as I think of my other kids. That’s the beauty of a mothers love. No matter the distance or separation, her love follows her children. What a beautiful thing.
Sitting here today on the quietness of my couch gives me time to think. Looking back I can clearly distinguish when I first began to crack. It happened unexpectedly this past June as we spent the evening with sweet friends. Their daughter (who is Josiah’s age) took some of her first steps. As we were cheering her on it hit me hard. Josiah should be taking his first steps now too. As we were driving home Jesse looked over at me and asked, “Was that as hard for you as it was me?” I knew exactly what he was talking about and burst into tears. I didn’t stop crying the rest of the weekend.
Up until that night, I had a hard time being around newborns and pregnant women. In fact I hated pregnant women. I hated them even though I was one. Their pregnancy glow was like a slap in the face. I was jealous of their easygoing joy when the stress of my pregnancy was aging me. When it came to seeing newborns I felt a deep sadness. I couldn’t stand to hear a coo or a cry. See a stretch or a yawn. It broke my heart every time. Which was unfortunate because just about every friend I have, gave birth to a baby in 2014. I was surrounded by newborns.
But on that day, as I watched this little girl take her first steps everything changed. No longer did newborns break me. Now one-year-olds did. As I’ve witnessed little friend’s first birthdays, first steps, waving bye-bye, new words, and interacting with siblings; my heart has broken time and time again. I’ve realized every year will be a new stage. I will constantly watch these children grow and my heart will break for the 1 year old, 2 year old, 16 year old, that will not be with me. I started to mourn the future Josiah, not just the three week old that left me behind. And that was overwhelming to me. An entire lifetime of missed milestones, smiles, joy, and laughter were gone. The weight of death’s permanence set in.
The birth of our sweet Jonah (who we affectionately call Jonah-Pie) ushered in a new joy. He healed a tiny piece of our hearts in a way nothing else could have. Even though life suddenly became busier and our mini van fuller, Josiah’s presence was missed even more. For a while I would cry every time I climbed in the van. The emptiness of Josiah’s seat would scream at me in the rearview. It would cause me flashbacks to leaving the hospital. I remembered how I felt walking up to the car as the sun was shinning and a man mowed the lawn across the street. The way the cool crisp breeze felt across my face as I looked in the car window to see his car seat sitting in the back. Empty. Having flashbacks in situations like this made me feel different. Normal people could get in their car and drive without noticing the emptiness of a seat. I felt alone.
Soon after Jonah’s birth came a day that completely broke me apart.
Josiah’s 1st Birthday
That day something in me snapped. A deeper heartbreak of missing my son grow up hit me hard. It broke me in a different way than anything I’d experienced the past year. I still can’t put into words the pain of missing him; especially on his birthday. We went out to dinner to celebrate that day and as I listened to waiters signing Happy Birthday to other kids, a sense of injustice started to grow. Josiah’s happy birthday’s were taken from him and we were left to suffer without him.
August 24, 2015 ushered a darkness into my life. Not a depressed darkness but a season of spiritual attacks. The past several months the devil has tried his hardest to make Jesse and I feel alone and abandoned, unloved and disappointed, overwhelmed and bitter. Prayers were going unanswered and disappointments in life and in relationships brought us further grief. I started to retreat and isolate myself. I just felt different and began to develop some level of social anxiety. The past year I’ve struggled in situations where there was small talk. It was actually painful to be in these situations and to some extent still is. I just hated smiling and talking about things I felt were meaningless. We had been through so much and it was difficult to process it all. Josiah was on my mind all day and when others stopped mentioning him I just felt alone. The rest of the world was enjoying their lives but I was still aching. I felt no one understood. I was trying to figure out how to joyfully live when part of me had died.
As my grip on eternity started to slip, I began to dwell on the more negative aspects of Josiah’s life. The trauma he experienced during birth and the horrific suffering it caused him. I started having flashbacks. They mostly came at night. I would wake up and instantly memories of Josiah would come flooding out. Usually, the most traumatic ones. The ones I question. The ones where I felt helpless. The ones I wish I could’ve done something to change everything. I’d lay awake in bed reliving and before I knew it Jesse’s alarm would go off and the day would begin.
I couldn’t think straight. The exhaustion and the trauma of reliving memories was getting to me. Any new mom knows how disorienting the lack of sleep can be. But combine that with the grief and the every day stress of parenting our extremely strong willed child and it makes sense why I was cracking.
I’m still struggling with this whole exhaustion and completely loosing my mind issue. But I’ve been praying and I’ve asked some of you to pray specifically for the PTSD flashbacks at night to stop. And for the most part they have now. So thank you.
I’m so grateful that when grief and suffering cracked me wide open it created space for God to seep in. I’ve been blessed with a husband who doesn’t try to fill the brokenness in me but instead points me to the only one who can make me whole again. He’s always the first to encourage me to “get with God.” I’m back to listening to sermons and playing worship music as a backdrop to the day. I’ve been allowing myself time to pause and reflect and journal instead of having to get everything done. And as soon as I started opening myself to Him he swooped right in to fill me. Jesus is in my suffering. He’s been here all along. He brings healing and hope again and again. Sometimes he does so by the way of friends. On some of my worst days a friend will show up unexpectedly and tangibly love on me. It makes me teary just thinking about God loving on me in that way.
I’ve struggled with not wanting to write publicly again. Humbling myself and sharing how hard this year has been is difficult. But I’ve been getting the nudge from God it’s time to share. By writing I not only see God’s grace in my life but I am able to record it for my children. We are all imperfect people and if there is one thing I want my kids to know it’s that I’m not perfect and I don’t know everything. But I trust the One whose perfect in all ways and knows the exact number of my days. Only He can truly transform me and bring purpose to my suffering.
♥
Dear Jayden, Savannah, and Jonah,
The death of your brother has left me broken. But you know that better than anyone. Maybe instead of hiding all my brokenness from you I need to share it with you. Someday I hope the story of Josiah’s life and the imprint it left on our family will soften your heart to the God who created you. I hope that in sharing my imperfection with you, you will see life doesn’t need to be good and perfect for it to be joyful and full of purpose. Life is going to be hard. The unfortunate truth is that someday you too will experience heartache. This makes me sad for you but I know God chooses those times in our life to draw us close. I pray when the day comes for you, you will be willing to be fully broken at his feet. I pray God would pursue your heart and overwhelm you with his love. I hope I can continue to encourage you to turn to him when life gets tough. He is always with you.
“For the LORD will not abandon His people, Nor will He forsake His inheritance.” Psalm 94:14
God Loves you and so do I.
Forever, Mommy
October 2015