Thoughts on Grieving

I realized in the days and weeks following Ashlyn's birth, that I had never truly grieved in my life before.  I had never had something happen that brought on true grieving.  There was no doubt I had felt deep sadness at times before, but not grieving.  And I don't want to be a big downer, but I knew it would happen someday.  It wasn't something I was living in fear of or that I thought about a lot, but I knew enough to know that if you live long enough, something will cause you to grieve.  And in the weeks following Ashlyn's diagnosis, I specifically remembering thinking to myself, "So, this is what grieving feels like."

I even remember in those moments thinking back to psychology classes in high school or college when you learned about the stages of grieving....and I was living them.  Shock, denial, anger, guilt and depression....in the first few months after Ashlyn was born I felt all of those things at some point.  I can remember in the very early days, crying pretty much consumed me.  I would wake up crying and go to bed crying.  In the mornings, I would say to Troy, "I think I need medicine.  I need something....I can't keep feeling this."  We were both grieving and he would say to me, "I know, it really hurts, but I think we have to feel it.  We have to let ourselves feel it."  In those early weeks, our parents were around a lot to help us out and one night my parents told Troy and I just to go to dinner and take some time to ourselves.  I probably wasn't fit to be in public yet at this point because I remember crying through most of the dinner.  After dinner we went to Barnes and Noble....I think we were trying just to feel normal for a little bit.  While we were there, I thought I would just try to escape and look at my usual magazines but I was being drawn to the section that had books about grieving....I don't know why, I just wanted to know what they said.  They talked a lot about the grieving process after someone you love dies, which I expected.  What I was surprised to see was that each one of them had chapters about the grieving process after having a child born with a disability.  It was like this confirmation that, yes, my current life situation was in books about grieving. It was true...this was grieving.  And it hurt really bad. 

The first three months were so very hard.  It seemed like total darkness.  I felt a loss of hope.  I felt the death of the child I thought I was going to be having, the future I thought we would have.  I would still try to pray, but it would mostly come out, "God, I don't think I can do it."  And, in the very bottom of my heart, somewhere underneath all of the sadness, I knew He heard me.  I knew He was there, even when I couldn't pray, when it was hard to find the faith.  And, I knew people were praying on my behalf and I am so thankful.

As the months passed, the pain began to lift little by little.  The very deep, dark days of the beginning were starting to get easier.  I don't know exactly how long I would say "the grieving process" lasted, but I do know that my husband was right, we had to feel it.  As I look back on it, I really believe that God is the author of healthy grieving.  And, the coolest thing is that for as extremely painful as it was, God didn't leave me there. He didn't leave me in that place. He helped me through it....we made it through it together.  He helped Troy through it.  He helped us through it as a couple.  And, as I sit here today, I know we made it through that process only because of His mercy.  And because life is life, there very well could be a time of grieving again. It is nothing I obsess about it.  I know the night doesn't last forever.  Joy is promised in the morning. 

Over this past year, I read an incredible book by Beth Moore called, "So Long Insecurity."  This book spoke volumes to me during this time because I was dealing with much insecurity over Ashlyn and the sense of loss I was feeling.  In this book, there is a prayer that she writes for the reader to pray.  When I first read the words, I felt like my heart could explode from the magnitude of how much I wanted to make it my prayer.  I want to share parts of the prayer she wrote:

Lord, come and treat my heart and soul where they have been shattered by loss.  You know the pain.  You know how my feelings frighten me and how the enemy of my soul would have me believe that I will never be okay.  Make a liar out of him, Lord.  Do not let him win.  Do not let loss win.  Be my gain, Lord.  Flood my life with purpose and compassion.  Be my strength in weakness.

Please do not let me confuse healing with betrayal.  Grant me the gift of healthy grief that does not fight the pain or process of healing.  Don't stop until You've made a miracle of me.  

Lord, help me to learn how to hang on tight to You when my life is rocked by dramatic change.  Empower me to trust You and not to panic or fight for control.  Help me to stop confusing a change in my circumstances with a change in my security status.  You are my security, O God.  You are the one sure thing.  When everything around me shakes, You are unshakable.  Nothing has the propensity to reveal false gods in me like a sudden change in my circumstances.  Help me to see them and surrender them instantaneously.  Use change to provoke what needs changing in me, Lord, and to increase my appreciation for the only One who is the same yesterday, today, and forever. 

I can say that the grieving process is over, however, there are still moments of grief and sadness.  Moments where it feels dark.  To this day, I find myself praying, "Do not let loss win.  Be my gain, Lord."  Or that my life would "flood with purpose and compassion" because of Ashlyn.  And, I fully expect that these sorts of grieving moments will continue to come from time to time because life isn't perfect and having a child with Down Syndrome can be challenging.  There are things that trigger those feelings in me.  But, what I am realizing now is these moments cause me to go instantly to Jesus and I hope they always do.  These moments of grief cause me to stay so very close to Him, because I know if He can get me through complete darkness, He can get me through anything.  So, if that is what can come from grieving, I really do consider it a gift.  I consider it a gift to know that the same God that got me through the darkest moments I have had to this point, that allowed a time of healthy grieving for me, is the same God that will get me through any dark moments I may face in the future and He will do the very same for you.