The rest of Saturday went surprisingly well. Both of us were able to talk about things as they came to our minds without much difficulty, and a sweet friend visited and spent a few hours with us. G fixed a couple of our dining chairs that he had been meaning to repair for a while, mostly because it was something easy to do. I think projects (especially for him) can aid in the healing process. Anyway, we decided to turn in early again last night, hoping we would get another restful sleep. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.
At 10:15, we turned out the lights, prayed together, and tried to go to sleep. That's when my brain turned on. For the first time, I felt a little angry; not at God, or the midwife, or anyone really. But I had noticed something unusual taking place throughout the day that I wasn't okay with. My stomach was almost completely flat. I could even see outlines of my abs, and I don't say that proudly. I was deeply insulted that only a day after I said goodbye to my sweet baby, that most every sign of that bump I treasured so much had already disappeared. My body was moving on, and quickly, whether I was ready for it to or not. As I lay in bed feeling frustrated by this, I happened to notice the time. It was after 10:00pm, and that is when Addie was usually her most active. She would normally be kicking up a storm around now, sometimes kicking until 11:30pm every single night. Hubby and I had spent many evenings in bed feeling her move and laughing as he would tap on my stomach and she would kick in response. Now there was nothing. No movement, no sign of life because there wasn't one in there anymore. Then I realized that, although God could bless us with another little baby in the future who would probably kick and wiggle just as much as Addie did, I would never feel her kicks again. At this moment, while these thoughts were running through my mind, G whispered into the darkness.
"I miss her kicking me in the back."
That's all he said, and I realized the occasional sniff I had heard from him wasn't related to a stuffy nose, but because he was feeling the pain of her absence at the very moment I was. You see, the morning of G's birthday, I had snuggled up to him and Addie had decided it would be the perfect moment to start thrashing against his back. He felt her kicks, and we laughed about how cute it was, and how it was like she was telling him Happy Birthday in her own way. We didn't know that we would make a trip to the hospital later that night or that our lives were about to change forever. That was the only time she had kicked him in the back, and it wouldn't happen again. A tidal wave of sorrow washed over me, and we clung to one another, weeping over our loss. After the tears stopped, we spent a few minutes smiling over those memories that had just made us cry. It was a sweet moment. Not long after the quiet returned, my chest began to hurt (something I have been expecting) and I felt some mild uterine cramping (also expected), so I took some Tylenol and got back in bed. I thought sleep would come then, but it would be a long time before either of us finally drifted off.
This morning was the hardest day (at least for me) so far. Part of it was the lack of sleep, I'm sure, as well as the pain in my chest and abdomen. We got up because we had decided yesterday that we needed to go to church. If we had to leave because we couldn't handle it, then we would, but we both wanted to go. I brushed my hair and put on just enough makeup to make myself presentable, and ate a little breakfast that my Honey had fixed for me. I wasn't hungry; in fact, I haven't had much of an appetite since Thursday, but I've been trying to eat whenever I can. It was a quiet, solemn morning for us. I knew I would probably cry at some point, and I barely made it into my seat at church before breaking down. The worship songs that they sang were perfect reminders of the love of Christ, and we left service feeling refreshed in our spirits.
We took it easy for the next few hours after we got back home. At one point, I was laying on the couch texting my brother and was struck suddenly by grief. G happened to come back in at that moment, and he told me it was okay for me to let it out. So I did. I sobbed and mourned for a few minutes, and felt much better afterward. There were lots of moments today where I would be perfectly fine, and then - out of nowhere - be overwhelmed with emotion. It's just part of it, though. It's healthy, and it's okay.
The sunshine has been absolutely brilliant over the last two days. We went outside this afternoon and I sat on the porch while Hubby trimmed some bushes. I watched him work, and realized that God is pruning us in the same way. It doesn't feel good when He removes the parts of us that are ugly or growing the wrong way. We may even feel like there aren't many "branches" left on us, or that we look kind of pitiful and sad, but when the new growth comes in, it's more beautiful than ever.
I don't know why God allowed all of this to happen with Addie, and I may never know. I do know that He is in control, that He is good, and He knows all things and sees every angle in any given situation. I also know that without Jesus Christ, there is absolutely no way I could handle this. None. It shouldn't be possible for me to function. I shouldn't be doing as well as I am. There is no way I could accept my little girl's death, or have hope in the midst of the sorrow. It's all because of Jesus, guys. In such a short time, He has worked and moved in the mightiest of ways that I never could have imagined. When I went to bed last night, this blog had almost 5,000 views in one day (a huge difference from it's usual one or two). Adelyn was only alive on this earth for an hour at most, yet God is using her tiny, sweet, brief life to reach people who are desperate for hope and love. I couldn't be more humbled by this.
Some people have called us brave. But if we're brave, it's not because of who we are, but because of Who we know. Why doesn't it destroy us to lose our baby girl? Jesus. Why can we face death and an uncertain future without fear? Jesus. Why can I wake up every morning with all of the memories of what were and thoughts of what could have been without spiraling into severe depression? Jesus. Why can we smile a true and genuine smile in spite of all this heartache? Jesus. How can I possibly take on the heavy task of laying our girl to rest tomorrow? Jesus. He is what makes all of this possible. He's the rock we cling to as our breath is knocked out of us. He's our hope for a brighter tomorrow. He's our strength when we're weak. He is our joy, our help, our life. If you turn your heart to Him as a result of this situation, whoever you are and wherever you've come from, then our suffering is not in vain. Our heart's desire is that you find peace, love, hope, forgiveness, healing, and rest in Him. He's the source. He's the only way.
"This is the message of faith that we proclaim: if you confess with your mouth, 'Jesus is Lord,' and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. With the heart one believes, resulting in righteousness, and with the mouth one confesses, resulting in salvation. Now the Scripture says, No one who believes on Him will be put to shame, for there is no distinction between Jew and Greek, since the same Lord of all is rich to all who call on Him. For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved." -Romans 10:8-13
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