The Unthinkable
trigger warning: child loss
We lost our sweet Julia yesterday. Her last words were, "Mama, hold you." (That means, "Mama hold me.") I held her, having no idea those were her last ten minutes with us. We still don't know what happened, other than she was throwing up in the morning and her heart stopped at night. Mike and I are writers and that's all we know how to do right now. I am sure we will write and write and write. Or maybe we won't.
For now I need to write a few things that Jesus told me earlier this week in prayer and then reminded me of last night as friends and family surrounded me:
Parenting is an eternal profession. My cousin asked me recently if we will know our kids in heaven. I'd been giving a lot of thought to that. Jesus came back in his resurrected state still friends with his friends, fully knowing them and loving them. It got me thinking about how there is nothing more wonderful than being a mom to Julia, because she is an eternal being. I will eternally be her mama.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd. From the start of this parenting adventure, Jesus has continually proven that he is my Shepherd. I didn't know what I was doing from the start. I didn't know what I was doing yesterday as I cared for her in her last hours. I am terrified not knowing what happened to her. But Jesus reminds me that he has been the Shepherd all along. He has been the one showing us what to do. And he will shepherd us now.
Jesus trusts me to be a mom. This one is the hardest, and possibly the word I needed the most last night. Jesus trusts me. He trusted me as I held her. He trusted me as I took her to the ER and called the paramedics. He trusted me to be with her in her final moments. I don't know that I will ever trust myself again to be a mom. We are supposed to find out in three days if we are pregnant again (we just did an embryo transfer last week). I don't know how to process that. I can't process it, no matter the news. But Jesus says he trusts me and I want to hold onto that.
When we first were trying to get pregnant with Julia, a wise friend told us that God gives us kids to help us grow into holiness. There is no other human being on this planet who has discipled me more in knowing Jesus than our sweet Julia. She taught me how to lay down and stare at the trees and to listen to the birds. She recently faced her biggest fear: bubbles in the bath. I'm so proud of her for facing that fear. I want to be someone who faces my fears.
I don't pretend to know why this happened or how I will get through even the next five minutes. But I do know Jesus has me on a journey of overcoming fear and that he will likely continue to disciple me in that in the coming weeks, months and years.
I also know this grief is not just for me and Mike. It's a collective grief. It's collective trauma. I know every parent or anyone who's ever been a parent can hear news like this and hold their kids tighter. But let's not live life in fear. This is a nightmare. But the nightmare is so much better than my actual nightmares, because Jesus is here. And he is real.
Julia would say when I left the house, or even when I just went to the bathroom, "Miss..Mama." And I would say "Mama will be right back." And she would say "right back." Jesus, tell my girl that I am gonna be right back. Tell her she's safe. That you are the one we've been singing about. Hold her for me.