Oh those dreaded numbers…

New job- how many dependents do you have?  I write down two, no wait, scratch that out- one.

2016 taxes- how many dependents do you have?  I answer one, no wait, make that two.

At a recent physical exam, how many pregnancies have you had?  I answer two, no wait, three.  We had a pregnancy of twins in December 2016 that ended in January when there were no heartbeats.

And also at the physical, I learned that my weight currently slightly exceeds that of when I delivered Breelyn a year ago.

My numbers have changed and it makes me sad.  I want to be raising two live children with two more on the way.  And as long as we’re dreaming, having my weight not be a constant battle would be nice too.  And so I long for heaven.  For the day when I will have all of my children with me, when we won’t have worries like weight, jobs, and healthcare costs.  For the day when there won’t be sickness or death.  For the day when all will be well and we’ll be home.

Work worship

I work for a religious organization.  They start their day off with a voluntary worship. It’s a nice way to start the day and I usually try to attend.

In the last month three things have resonated with me in regards to this organizational worship…

  1. In the car I realized that I hadn’t put mascara on.  Not the end of the world but I was a little ticked off.  I sat down to worship and in it, the speaker sang the song “Press On” by Selah. I’ve written about this song previously it basically says that when you are dealing with the very worst, in Jesus’ name, we press on.  It’s been my sort of theme song during the loss of Breelyn.  I let myself cry a lot during this song.  So there I was, fighting back the sobs, while my tears fell, when suddenly I had to smile.  God had my back.  I’d forgotten to wear mascara so it wasn’t immediately evident to the whole world that I’d been crying.  It was a little delightful to think of God helping me to forget my mascara so that I wouldn’t look like a raccoon all day.
  2. A speaker delivered a message and at the end, someone on the platform mentioned his family and that he had four sons.  The speaker paused for a bit and said yes- I have four living sons.  As a parent who has lost a child, I struggle with how to relay my family make up.  Breelyn lived and I don’t want to just ignore that.  I loved the “four living sons” because that implied that there might be others who hadn’t lived.  The statement helped me feel not alone.
  3. Today!  Oh today.  The speaker talked about how he’d experienced true love during the eventful birth of his son.  He built up the agony of waiting for his child to take a first breath.  He talked of how he started to bargain with God- how he’d give up his life if only his son would live.  And there I sat, this time barely keeping it together.  My child hadn’t lived. I don’t have a revelation on this one yet.  It’s honestly just too fresh.  I’m thrilled for those that live.  I love that people can experience truest love when they become parents.  And yes, I think that I now understand just a bit about the crushing agony that God must have gone through to give up His son Jesus to die for us.  And I’m forever deeply grateful for God’s sacrifice.  But, today, I just want to feel bad that my child didn’t live.  I’m glad that the speaker’s baby lived but I’m going to continue to be sad that my didn’t.

So dear world, corporate worship is good for me however, I think that I’ll start sitting on the aisle so that I have a clear line to escape if needed. Thanks for letting me vent just a bit.  This is hard stuff and I always hope that maybe in the future, someone who’s experienced a loss will stumble across something that I’ve written, and they’ll realize that it’s ok to be sad, angry, etc.  And it’s ok to be angry at God- He can take it and He’s going to keep loving you and me- just like I’ll keep loving Breelyn Elizabeth- forever.