Healing

Today is the six month anniversary from the day we lost Poppy — our little one was welcomed into His arms on Friday, February 29th. I can’t believe it’s been that long. Some days, it feels surreal. Some days, it’s very real and I’m just sad. And some days are good, and I’m grateful for...well, everything. No matter the day though, it feels like it’s only been a month. Six weeks maybe, but not six months. It all feels so fresh.

From all of this, to say that I have changed is an understatement. The strength of my marriage has grown exponentially. (Not that it was ever weak to start, but we know each other in a totally different way now. It’s amazing how close you become when you support each other during the hardest days of your lives.) I see and hold my daughter differently -- she is a miracle, literally. My family has drawn closer. Friendships have been refreshed and strengthened. The most substantial effect of it all, however, is what happened with my faith. Some of you know this, but I just need to explain it in words -- for documentation sake, as I find this whole scenario a bit miraculous and there are times where I just need to reflect on the journey. Here we go.

Since childhood, my parents wanted me to have spiritual independence -- believe what I wanted to believe, not what they wanted me to believe. (I look back now and am so grateful for that. Had they told me what to believe and how to believe, the sheer impact of me discovering my faith wouldn’t have been so life-changing. This was the way it was supposed to happen for me.) So, we went to church on holidays and I believed in God. I just didn’t know who He was or anything about Him. I just knew that I believed that He was in Heaven and that, when good people died, they went to Heaven too. That’s about all I knew. And I didn’t really feel the need to know more at that point. But in college, I started to have questions — a desire to learn a bit about who this God was. I never really pursued these questions, but I can tell you that there was a fire of curiosity that had started to burn inside of me. Enter Jimmy. Southern Baptist Jimmy. We met in college, a time that Jimmy had taken a informal “break” from religion. Pretty common in college when you join a fraternity and are focused on school, fun and girls. So, I now had someone with knowledge to answer my sporadic questions about God. And, over the nine years that we have been together, my questions became more frequent. The fire was still not strong enough for me to go to church or anything, but the questions were getting more regular and more in depth. I think that it was a fear of mine that sparked a lot of these questions -- I had never lost a loved one. Never lost a grandparent, never lost any family member for that matter, never lost a friend. I think that is what made me crave information — I wanted to know what happened when people died. The answer of “good people go to Heaven and bad people go to Hell” was no longer enough. So, I had a few friends in college that were very close to me, one of which was still a large part of my life. Ashley. I knew that she attended a church that she really loved. And I loved Ashley, so I figured her church would be a good place to start. So, after nine years of questions and small talk with Jimmy, we decided that we’d try out this church on Sunday, February 10th, 2008. We went. And we fell in love. There was something about it that fed my soul. I cried during the service on several occasions. A good, relieved, nurished cry. It was amazing. That week, they were promoting a new session of Starting Point, a ten week small group designed for those who have questions or doubts about the Bible, God, or Christianity. I was SO excited. Perfect timing (hmmmm, timing). Jimmy and I signed up and went to the first session the following week. From that point on, we talked and talked and talked. It’s like that tiny little flame had exploded into a bonfire after that Sunday morning. And here’s why. God knew I needed Him. Because that next Monday, we went in for our 20 week ultrasound to get the baby’s measurements and, of course, find out what we were having. That was the day we found out 1) that we were having a little boy and, 2) that we would soon lose a little boy. Of course, the next few weeks were a blur. We prayed...A LOT. Something I would have never thought to do before my very-new relationship with the church and with God. Praying didn’t feel new though, it felt totally natural. So, a few weeks after we lost Poppy, we lost my Grandmother. Then, Jimmy’s father suffered a major heart attack and we spent a week living in Cardiac ICU following emergency bypass surgery and complications from that. In the midst of that emergency, we lost my Grandfather. The loss of our son, the loss of two of my Grandparents and a very bad scare with Jimmy’s father. My biggest fear — losing a loved one, had just whammied me three and a half times over, all in a matter of three months. And you know what? I survived it all, AND came out a stronger person. I am 100 percent confident that God encouraged that flame within me to explode at just the right time. We were drawn to that church at that moment so that we would have Him to lean on during the most difficult time of our life. I am so grateful for my new relationship with God, for His presence, for His comfort, and for His love.

Six whole months have gone by. Half of a year. It still amazes me as I write this and see the series of events in words. It really happened. Like saying I have changed, and to call this a rollercoaster is, also, an understatement. I am so grateful for all that I have been blessed. A beautiful daughter that we now know was a miracle. A husband that has held me when I cried and let me grieve, and then reminded me of the blessings that have come from all of this. Family that stood by my side since the moment that we got the devastating news, fed me milkshakes, let me sit in silence, and listened when I needed to talk. Friends -- wonderful friends. And my amazing God that carried me through.

Last night was tough. I didn’t know the real reason for my sadness until this morning when I looked at the calendar. The date looked familiar. And then it hit me. The anniversary must have weighed on my mind subconsciously. So I had to write these words to let it all out. As a form of therapy. To get these feelings that have been in my heart and in my head for six months now onto (electronic) paper. Not to let go but, rather, remember.

Near the end of my breakdown last night, Jimmy said something that will stay with me forever. I was sad about Poppy. I had this vision in my mind that when I do get to meet him one day, that I would walk up to the gates of Heaven and see him on the other side, peeking through the pearly white rails at me. And I thought he would be upset with me, that, as his Mother, I was unable to save him. Unable to provide him with life. I was just so scared that he would see me approaching the gates, and turn his back and weep. But, Jimmy said that there is no way he feels anything but love for his Mommy. That he was proud of himself for the impact that he made during his short 20 weeks with me. That, right now, Poppy is sitting up in Heaven looking down at us saying:

‘Look at them in church. I did that!’
‘Look at them praying before bed. I did that!’
‘Look at them praying with my big sister. I did that!’

And that is why I love my husband. He put that feeling of intense sadness to rest and turned it into pure peace and joy. My son’s short life was so purposeful — he introduced me to my maker. After last night’s conversation, I’m now confident that, instead of Poppy turning his back on me at those gates, he’ll run and jump into my arms with a huge, proud embrace. And what a sweet feeling that will be!