Grieving A Child

Grief Turned to Fear, Then to Rejoicing

Julie Blair Lane — Fri, 22 Dec 2006 15:59:00 GMT

If you’ve ever gotten shocking news…a phone call in the middle of the night, a diagnosis, a betrayal…etc, then you know that it’s not uncommon for fear to creep in from time to time. It’s the fear that you’ll get another call like that one… and you’ll have to go through the turmoil all over again.

I’ll be quite frank, I had a lot of days not long after my oldest son died where that very fear gripped me so hard it felt suffocating. The phone would ring in the middle of the night and it would be a wrong number but my heart would race and I’d feel as though I could vomit while I waited to find out who was on the other end. Every ultrasound with my other children would find me fighting the urge to cry or cancel the appointment. Moments when Erik would be late getting home from work, I'd suddenly be overcome with fear that something was terribly wrong. Even once my son was “missing” for about an hour (long story) – it turned out he was perfectly fine but I was in complete panic mode (as most moms would be).

It had been a while since I had an incident like this and I guess I was beginning to become comfortable without that sickening fear. So, today, when something happened to trigger it, I was caught completely by surprise. I know this is a difficult time of year for myself and for many others out there…but I really would like one holiday season without tears for a change. I did not want to cry today…tomorrow maybe, but not today. As though dealing with the ridiculous fear and the mental trauma that brought me to tears isn’t enough, most of the time, I end up feeling rather stupid and a tad crazy for letting it get to me like that.

God was trying desperately to remind me to lean on Him but I just kept bawling like an idiot, asking Him to “please let it be ok”. He brought several verses to my mind and while they did eventually calm my spirit, my flesh was still very much upset.

Do not be fainthearted or afraid; do not be terrified or give way to panic… Deuteronomy 20:3b

The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." Deuteronomy 31:8

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10

For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. Isaiah 41:13

I know there are others of you who grieve at this time of year and my heart aches for you. I also know that some of you will or have experienced grief afresh this year…I am so very sorry. Maybe you feel as Job, David and Jesus did…

My eyes have grown dim with grief; my whole frame is but a shadow. Job 17:7

Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and my body with grief. Psalm 31:9

My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to your word. Psalm 119:28

Then he said to them, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me." Matthew 26:38

I am praying that God will wrap His big strong arms about us and comfort us in a way that only He can…because He understands.

Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed? He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. Isaiah 53:1-5

I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. John 16:20

I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow. Jeremiah 31:13b

And finally, while tears may stain your face (as they do mine at the moment), I know this to be true…

weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. Psalm 30:5b

Your weeping may endure many nights even…but joy is on the horizon…watch for it…wait for it and trust that in all things…the Lord is good.

For the LORD is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations. Psalm 100:5

Praise the LORD; for the LORD is good: sing praises unto his name; for it is pleasant.

Psalm 135:3

The LORD is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him.

Lamentations 3:25

The LORD is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him. Nahum 1:7

It's here...sigh

Julie Blair Lane — Tue, 31 Oct 2006 09:38:00 GMT

Yes, the grief monster has arrived. I haven't the energy to post how I'm feeling at the moment. My grief is raw today - like I've gone back in time and the doctor is saying, "your baby has died".

My head and eyes ache from crying. Just waiting for it to pass...for this visit to be over. I'm sure I'll have more to say later. Bryan turns 10 in two months...ten...((deep sigh)).

weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
Psalm 30:5b

“Our earthly hopes are buried here…

Julie Blair Lane — Mon, 16 Jan 2006 09:00:00 GMT

…but our treasures are in heaven.”

My family enjoys geocaching from time to time. It’s a “sport” that we can all do, which is a rare find with small kids. On January 2^nd of last year, I was feeling rather low after passing yet another of Bryan’s birthdays so we set out to see how many caches we could locate in a certain area. One cache took us to the gravesite of that city’s founder and I refused to get out of the car. While Erik wrote down the information from the headstone I glanced out the passenger side window and the last half of the above quote caught my eye. For those who don’t know, Bryan’s site is entitled “A Treasure in Heaven” (ATiH). I pried myself from the van to investigate further and found the first half of the inscription. The stone was shared by a set of twins. One died at birth (October 24, 1882) and the other almost five years later (May 27, 1887). Of course the story unfolding as I read that monument hit very close to home for us. I pondered the quote again and again before jotting it on a piece of paper in the van.

When you find out you’re expecting, your mind runs wild with hopes and dreams for that new life. Then, when those hopes are cut short; vaporized in a matter of minutes after a diagnosis, accident or tragic incident, what do you do? Your life is permanently changed from that moment on and often it’s hard to see much “hope” in anything for a while.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. (Proverbs 13:12)

That’s exactly how I felt when we left that hospital empty handed. When Lee was born eleven months later, my longing to bring a baby home was fulfilled. Of course, my longing to watch Bryan grow and change won’t ever be. We buried that earthly hope just over nine years ago (Jan 3^rd). A piece of you goes when you outlive your child and that gaping hole has thrown me at the feet of God time and time again. I’ve begged His strength, His protection, His comfort and His hope. Every time, He reveals the substance of my faith.

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1)

He reminds me that hope is not lost. He has made a way. I will rejoice and praise our living God side by side with my son one day. I will be able to do this because God gave His Son for me. Even in the midst of my sorrow that day out caching, God placed me in view of that stone so I would be reminded of the hope I have in Him. I often wonder how many that grave marker has touched over the last 120+ years. Two small children who hardly had time to make any kind of mark on this world and yet, over a century later they are turning hearts toward the hope of heaven. My earthly hope may be buried here…

…but my treasure is in heaven.

This post is dedicated to all the bereaved parents who hope for the day when they’ll hold their precious children again.

Bryan's Stocking

Julie Blair Lane — Fri, 23 Dec 2005 14:32:00 GMT

I just realized the date today when I posted on Leann’s blog just a minute ago. It’s the 9^th anniversary of Bryan’s due date. His 9^th birthday is just over a week away. Nine years later and I’m still wondering what life would be like with him here.

Leann posted pictures of the stockings she’s made for her family. I too made stockings for my family in recent years. We’ve put up a stocking for Bryan every year since finding out we were expecting him. We fully expected him to arrive before Christmas in 1996 and there his stocking hung just waiting to greet our baby boy. As our family has grown, we’ve run out of mantle space for Erik and I to have stockings. Most people don’t even think twice when they see five hanging there each year. They probably assume there are six but some do count them and ask, “why five?”

December and early January hold many “anniversaries” in regard to Bryan. The 23^rd was his due date. The 27^th was the last appointment I heard his heart beat and at which I begged my doctor to induce. The 31^st we arrived at the hospital to finally be induced and he was born still that evening. January 3^rd we buried him along with our innocence. I know a lot of women who have experienced a stillbirth. Some don’t care to talk about it, some have never “dealt” with it and some, like me, will talk about it any time they please.

Something I find so difficult about these anniversaries is the time of year in which they fall. On the one hand, Bryan’s death really brought home the price God was willing to pay to save me from my sins. On the other hand, this is a time of year when families are gathering and everyone is expected to be constantly joyous. I do love Christmas time. It has always been my favorite time of the year. It was always a time filled with happiness and love and family. It’s not the same for me now though, it’s less magical, less….innocent. When our other children began to come on the scene, we regained some of that by watching them experience the season, the meaning, the food, the gifts, the smells, the sights, the sounds…etc.

It’s difficult to explain I suppose. Maybe it’s because Bryan’s birthday falls so close to the celebration of Christ’s birth. We are reminded how Mary was pregnant and gave birth (not something easy for any mother of a stillborn child to think about). I cannot think of being pregnant and giving birth without thinking of Bryan. It’s impossible. The memories of leaving that hospital empty-handed will never leave me. All of this is brought up the week before the anniversary of my son’s birth/death and emotions surface. In an effort to cope, I find myself turning not to the manger at Christmas but to the cross. I relate to Mary in a way that only bereaved parents can relate. She must have known the fate of her son even while she labored to bring him into this world. I relate to God’s sorrow, all the while knowing that His love far surpasses my own to sacrifice His own son for those who would blaspheme and mock Him.

But, I think a big reason my gaze moves so quickly from the manger to the cross each Christmas is to remind myself that hope is not lost. God has made a way. I will rejoice and praise our living God side by side with my son one day. I will be able to do this because God gave His Son for me. This is not the end.

If you are uncertain about where you will spend eternity, I’d like to invite you to read a bit about what I believe on the subject. Join me at Beads that Lead.

"Compassion for our Pain and Confusion"

Julie Blair Lane — Tue, 13 Dec 2005 20:59:00 GMT

“When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, ‘Dear woman, here is your son,’ and to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother’” ( John 19:26-27a NIV)

Scripture Reading: John 19:17-27

I have often meditated on this tender scene when both a screaming throng and the searing pain of crucifixion momentarily gave way to another concern. In the midst of unimaginable torture, with every breath a struggle, the sight of Jesus’ grieving mother and horrified friend captured His attention. Inconceivable compassion spilled from His heart as He bid them to love and support each other.

I see great significance in the fact that He did not minimize their loss or grief. He did not consider their pain and insignificant detail in a work of far greater glory. He did not wonder how they could think so temporally. His heart broke with compassion and He reached out to them in their need.

A glimpse of Christ’s heart in this tender moment can be healing for us if we’ll let it. You see, He looks on us with the same compassion. Imagine – at the very moment Christ was dying on the cross, salvation was secured for all who would believe. The enemy was defeated. Hell was trembling. Demons were howling. God was momentarily turning His face as every sin known to man was heaped on His Son. The hours Christ spent on the cross represented the most significant moments since time began.

John and Mary’s grief and confusion were nothing compared to the awesome work accomplished that afternoon. However, the friend and the mother did not look through eternal eyes to “see” the work of the Savior. They saw the impending loss of someone they loved and wanted nearby. Still, Christ looked upon their suffering and said, “Dear woman, here is your son, “and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.”

Jesus knew they could not comprehend the greater glory at work. He knew they wanted Him to climb down off the cross and live. For their sakes, He could not suspend His glorious works, yet Christ’s heart poured forth compassion.

My friend, at times Christ will do glorious works that involved suffering and loss. He persists in a greater glory even when we kick and scream and beg Him to do otherwise. Why? Because He will not allow us to cheat ourselves of something more marvelous than we can conceive. He knows one day we will understand.

Someday we will celebrate Christ’s unwillingness to give in to our demands – even when our begging broke His heart. He is working the greater work. Still, He has overwhelming compassion for our pain and confusion. Christ doesn’t grow impatient and wonder how we can be so foolish to hurt over earthly losses. He doesn’t even sigh and whisper, “If you only knew.” His heart bleeds with mercy and He comes to our aid.

Oh, Beloved, can you trust a heart like His?

This is an excerpt from Whispers of Hope by Beth Moore. My sister, Dani, sent this to me over the weekend. I found it rather comforting and thought I would share. May the God of creation comfort us in a way that only He can.

“and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.” (Isaiah 61:3)

October: Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month

Julie Blair Lane — Wed, 05 Oct 2005 05:47:00 GMT

In 1988, President, Ronald Regan proclaimed October as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month. In 1996 alone, approximately 983,000 babies died from miscarriage or stillbirth. It's something few people discuss openly. People quietly whisper behind the backs of family and friends who experience such losses as though ignoring it will make it untrue. Some bereaved parents don't wish to talk about it but a great many do if just given the chance. Parents who have lost an infant at any stage of life grieve. The loss of a baby, no matter how small, is tragic. I believe each life is important and that is why I am an advocate of bringing awareness in whatever way that I can.

If you know of a family member or friend who has survived the loss of a baby, send them a little note letting them know you are thinking about them this month. Tell them you learned that this is the month for awareness and wanted to let them know you care.

We have a website, A Treasure in Heaven (ATiH), where you can find information on what parents like myself go through after the loss of a child. If you find that you are now in the category of the bereaved parent, there is wonderful information for you there as well. My heart breaks over every story I hear about infant loss. The road of grief is a terrible one to travel. May God wrap His strong arms around you who grieve and comfort you in a way that only He can.

Unexpected Visitor

Julie Blair Lane — Fri, 16 Sep 2005 12:25:00 GMT

The Grief Monster stopped by today (he's still here actually). I think he probably arrived at my doorstep on Monday but I've been ignoring the bell hoping he'd leave and come back at his “usual time”.

It's like little things build up and then one day I just can't stop the tears so why even try. Certain songs, smells, thoughts, memories, foods....etc. It's a domino effect when several happen in a row. I think fatigue and feeling ill have worn me down to where there's just no use in fighting the tears. They're falling.

I miss my son.

I miss the innocence that came with having never dealt with a loss such as this.

I miss...

...being normal.

Fear often accompanies this villian. Fear of the “what-ifs“ and the “unknown“. If you've never survived this sort of loss, no doubt you think I'm crazy. I assure I'm not. If I were, maybe this wouldn't hurt so badly.

^{Psalm 23:4}Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

^Joshua1:9Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

"Surprise"

Blair Lane — Wed, 12 Jan 2005 22:00:00 GMT

What do you think of when you get an e-mail titled like that from someone you know? Yes, “she must be announcing she's pregnant“, you think. This is what I expected to read as I openned the e-mail........well, not only is she pregnant - she's about 20 weeks along and expecting a BOY! I'm not sure if I'm more miffed that she didn't feel the need to tell me before now that she's pregnant but now, now that she knows she's having a boy she's gonna rub my face in it? To top it off, I don't think too highly of her "mothering skills" (long story).

It just hit me really bad for some reason. I mean my sister is having a boy and while that stung a bit (hearing of any boy babies does that to me) I was able to let go of it - but this, this has been eating at me since I openned that stupid email and all I want to do is turn back time and delete the message before openning it. I love my kids to pieces, I wouldn't trade ANY of them for ANYthing - not even the shot at another boy - so why is this bothering me so much? It's true, I've wanted another brother for DS - poor guy is surrounded by sisters. I wish Bryan were here to be a big brother to him. I am pretty sure we won't be having any more kids but part of me wants to try for another boy - how stupid is that! Trying for a boy - after three girls in a row - maybe I'm thinking my odds are better LOL.

Obviously I'm not worried about this making much sense - I'm just trying to sort through this jumble of feelings I'm having and decifer what is rational and what isn't. Oddly, I'm just feeling better for having vented a bit....hmmm. What it boils down to is we're probably moving into "the next stage" (you know, the one after giving birth lol), and hearing about a woman who's my age having a boy and trying to somehow justify doing this just one more time......I don't know.

Will I ever beable to say "we're done". Will it always be a yearning? I've heard people say "you'll know when you're done." Is that true? And why don't I know? Am I just jealous and wanting something I can't have......ALL my kids here with me. If I'll know when we're done - should it conflict with DH "knowing when we're done". Is it another baby that I want or is it the dream of what will never be?

I believe I'll go pray on this for a bit. Glad I took a moment to vent. It helped me not write a nasty gram to my friend......I may actually be able to congratulate her.....we'll see.

The Grief Monster Returns

Blair Lane — Mon, 13 Dec 2004 13:06:00 GMT

Never in my wildest nightmares would I believe that we would bury a child. This post isn't about child-loss so much as it's about what comes to visit following the loss of a child. I call it The Grief Monster and it's a vicious thing. Some days it feels like “Grief” is a living, breathing being. It suffocates and tortures, it jabs and stings. Obviously this terrible creature arrives soon after the loss and how long it stays varies for each person. It was months for me.

But one thing I've discovered is that The Grief Monster returns every year around Bryan's birthdate (and other significant dates). For me, this is December. I've been keeping Grief at bay for weeks this year. It keeps knocking and I keep yelling “I'm not home”. Somehow I want it to just skip my house this year - to let me enjoy one Holiday season without tears falling. Unfortunately, it doesn't just stand there and knock, it starts pounding and beating on the door and the next thing I've swung open the door just to make the racket stop. “Get the visit overwith” I think, “it'll break down the door anyway”. So Grief enters.....

...and brings with it depression, anger, sorrow, pain and sometimes even jealousy. Then you have a house full of unwelcome guests that seem intent on wreaking havoc on your state of mind, emotions and physical well-being. Grief isn't just emotional or mental - it's physical too. There are times I find I'm short of breath, fatigued, even sick to my stomach.

So, the monster entered today.....it's lurking and baiting me. I'm on the verge of tears as I sit here and type. I miss Bryan terribly and wonder what life might be like with him here. I'm not so much sad for him as I am for me. I know he's in heaven, I know I'll see him one day but I also know that my human existance doesn't allow me to fathom what that will be like. What I can understand right now is the pain involved with his absence. He would be turning 8 this year.....eight, wow, it's just baffling to consider how much time has passed. On days like today though, it “feels” like today is the day we learned of his death, it “feels” like the shock has just hit and yet it's also mixed with the reality of the finality. When you're new to the grief process it's impossible to see that this is final - it won't be un-done - you won't wake from the nightmare.....somewhere in the back of your mind you think it's not real, it hasn't really happened. When you're eight years into it though - you know it's real. You've been “living with the reality” for years now and it has certainly sunk in.

So at this point there's no denial to protect you - it's real, you know it's real and you know your life will never be the same without that person. Now some may say this means you will never have joy in your life again - not true. I have great joy in my life. And in fact, I believe that being faced with this tragedy has brought about a deeper feeling of joy. I believe I feel everything more deeply. And thus, when grief returns for a season each year - the sting is painful, the hurt is real and until it leaves, I feel it ever so deeply.