This was a beach we visited one morning to collect shark teeth washed ashore. Although I do not remember all of the thoughts running through my head as I walked along this stretch of the coast, I do remember being deep in thought about the symbolism of the rocks, the waves, and my experience with grief. At the time, I did not write anything down because I wanted to be present in the moment.
I regret not grabbing pictures of the tide as it began its retreat away from the rocks. This picture does not do justice to what I witnessed. At one point, the tide was so high and the waves were so powerful that they splashed over the rocks. I was mesmerized by the sheer power and beauty that was before me.
Recently, I have noticed a familiar sadness creeping back in, much like the tide comes in. With tides, you know it is on its way, but it does not happen suddenly. Instead, if you look away for ten or so minutes, when you turn back around, you realize it is in fact heading your way. It started with a few tears one morning and two days later, nothing could prevent feeling completely overwhelmed with grief and sadness just as powerful and crushing as the days I received phone calls telling me our IVF cycle did not work. It is strange because although I knew a tide of sorts would be coming in, I was not prepared for how strong the waves would be.
For the first time in awhile, I found myself asking God why. I asked God why me, why us, why not even one baby when He has given other couples multiple babies. As I sat in the passenger seat, sobbing to the point where my whole body shook, I managed to utter a few coherent sentences in an attempt to share with my husband exactly where my thoughts were taking me.
Although I was asking God why, I was not actually asking it because I wanted or needed an answer to the question. Even though my entire heart ached to the point I felt like I would never feel anything but pain again, I was not angry with Him for not answering our prayers. In the moment, I was upset because I did not - and do not - fully understand why this is the path God has laid out in front of me. Even through the pain, I was able to hold onto my relatively newfound truth that I do not need to know why, I need to keep an open heart and spirit and wait for God to show me the "what next".
When I feel this level of heartbreak, I usually find myself wanting to fall asleep and just not wake up. I do not want to die, but I also do not want to live another moment feeling crushed beneath what seems like unrelenting waves of grief crashing into every fiber of my being. I sometimes share when I feel this way, but I do not always do so because of how dark it is and because I do not want people to worry about me. I told my husband that although I wished I would fall asleep and not wake up, I knew that if the next day I woke up that God still has a purpose for me. In that moment, I was more frustrated about still not fully knowing what my purpose is instead of being frustrated about not knowing why I was unable to conceive a child.
Grief and pain are like the waves I saw crashing against the shore and the rocks this summer. Neither can be stopped. But, both will eventually diminish slowly. Both will return eventually. In the past, I would not have thought of myself as one of those big rocks on the shore. In the past, I felt like a stone or a shell that gets thrown into the larger rocks, only to be pulled back out into the ocean by the waves. In the past, the return of the emotional turmoil would have pulled me back into a place where I retreated to wherever the grief decided to take me.
As I stood on the beach that day - and as I look at the picture now - I realize I am much more like those rocks than a stone. The grief still hits me in a powerful way, and it likely always will. And while those crashes of grief may chip away at me a little, I feel like I am able to remain steadfast in the knowledge that I am not defined by the titles or accomplishments I lack. I am not lesser because I do not have the title of mom. I am not lesser because a medical procedure failed. I am not lesser because the sadness overtook me once again. I am a child of God above all else, and I was created in His image. It has taken me a very, very long time to believe this and to begin to place my trust in Him, and even now I still have days where I am fearful of allowing Him to take the lead. I still have days I am unhappy or frustrated with Him. I still have days where I question His intentions for my life.
I have avoided speaking out about my faith and my faith journey because I still very vividly remember how angry I was at God as we were struggling with infertility. I wanted nothing to do with Him, I lost my faith, I lost my way, and even though deep down I knew that the only way I would be able to truly and fully heal would be to seek Him, I resisted. I never want anyone to feel any sort of shame for being at a different or non-existent part of their faith journey. The last thing I wanted to hear was anything about God, especially if I was being told everything was part of God's plan and His timing.
I am not going to tell you that your struggles are part of God's plan or that you are waiting because of His timing. I am not going to tell you He is testing your faith. Perhaps I am wrong, but I do not think that is how God works. I do not believe God wants us to be in pain.
I do believe that God does not want us to be alone. So tonight, or whenever you are reading this, know that you are not alone. I know it may feel like it, but if you are reading this, even if I do not know you, I see you. How you are feeling in this moment is valid. You are loved and you are cherished, and if in this moment you do not feel that way, I hope that if your heart is telling you otherwise, that there is a small voice in your head reminding you that this will pass. It may take a time, but healing from grief is an ongoing process.
I am always horrible at wrapping these up, so I will end with sharing what helped me reach my turning point. If and when you are ready to talk to God again, try asking him "what next?" instead of "why?". An answer may not be given immediately to "what next", but at least when we ask "what next", we are looking forward instead of staying stuck in trying to find answers that may not serve us anyway.
I do not know what is next, but I know when I wake up tomorrow, it is another day for me to see if that answer is revealed.
Love,
Kristy
No comments:
Post a Comment