The night that I published Wednesday’s post, I sat at my computer…looked through each photo with the song playing and the sweet, hot tears gently poured down.
I am just so overwhelmed with gratitude.
These three kiddos…. what they mean to me… it’s almost painful. The love is so deep that it is (at moments) terrifying.
And I looked at Apple…. my rainbow baby… and I just praised God for her precious life.
Tonight an email came in….
“I’ve been reading your blog for years, absolutely love everything about it and can really identify with a lot of your writing. At this moment, I feel like I have no one to talk to, no one who understands what I’m feeling and I just don’t know what to do. I’m sorry if this brings back sad things. I just don’t know what to do with myself. On Monday I found out that our baby was dead but my body still thought I was pregnant. As I type this, I still feel like I’m dreaming and I’m writing about a nightmare I haven’t awakened from yet. Everything is a dream. I feel so numb. So dead and empty inside. I don’t want to do anything. I just sit on my porch and stare off into space, not really thinking about anything yet thinking about everything. I don’t know how I’m going to survive this. I feel like I don’t have a friend in the world right now. I pray for God to be so close to me, but I’ve never felt Him farther away. I feel so alone.
And I guess that’s why I’m writing you. Because I know you went through this and I just need to know how you got through it because I don’t feel like I can. All I want is my baby back, but I can’t. And I feel bad writing this to you because you don’t even know me but I don’t know what to do. Or who to say this all to. There aren’t even words.”
My heart is broken.
I know these emotions all to well.
I know the tears, the sadness, the anger. I know the scream.
There have been very very few moments in my life where the most raw, heartbreaking scream has unashamedly poured out. I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried.
Being pregnant and giving birth to Apple was a whole new experience after losing a baby. I knew the delicacy this time. I appreciated her life on a whole new level.
and how easy it could be gone.
I wept at sonograms.
I was forever changed. I would never look at certain things the way I had before ever again.
I rest in hope.
that all these sweet babies are in heaven now.
that they escaped the sin & heartache of this world and went straight to the feet of Jesus.
They say that everyone worships differently.
We all are moved by God in different ways and are inspired in our own ways that are unique to us. I am the type that if I see a beautiful beach or a snow covered mountain…. if I watch a beautiful film or hear a lovely song.
I rejoice in Him.
Those things move me. and those are moments of worship for me.
Looking into the eyes of my little ones is the same. The beauty, the uniqueness, the true wonder in their spirits- it moves my soul greatly.
And Apple. I rejoice in her. The symbol of hope that she is.
A quote from a beautiful offering:
“Psalm 56:8 says that God keeps our tears in a bottle. I find great comfort in believing that He is close enough and cares enough to catch every one I have shed. Maybe from that container of His love, God tenderly refills the oceans of our souls after we’ve cried them dry.”
(my linky tools is be wacky tonight) – leave your “on your heart posts” in the comments if you want 🙂