I don't know what to write about, but I know I need to write. Ever feel like that?
Processing this grief and loss is a journey. I get the feeling that people around me expect it to be over and done with. After the initial news wears down and the prayers slow down and the flowers die, I'm tempted to think I should just be "over it." People have stopped asking me how I'm doing. I guess it's over in their head, just like any major news story dies away after a few short days.
But those who know loss in their own life know differently. It doesn't just go away. In a sense, it's always with you. It's part of my story now. My heart will always wear this scar.
Grief is not a one-way destination. It is not some place you work to "arrive" one day. It is truly an expedition with no clear end, full of twists and turns, feelings that creep upon you when you least expect.
I just went through two days without the pangs of loss. Conversations with those who have lost through miscarriage and a women's Bible study on fear and anxiety helped "fill" me, and the following 48 hours were oh so nice. It was so refreshing to feel contentment and peace for a brief time. Just to know it will come again.
And then an email comes to my inbox, stealing the peace I had just struggled SO hard to find. News of the birthmother who rejected me. How she and the other prospective adoptive mom will be at an adoption meeting I was invited to attend.
Now, I'm no dummy-- I wasn't going to attend that meeting and risk putting this girl in a terribly awkward place, not to mention subject myself to emotionally crumbling again. I'd be crazy to go.
I'm getting over this. I'm trying, anyways. But it's kinda like hearing your ex-boyfriend is taking another girl to the prom.
And then the grief battle rages within all over again. Anger. Disappointment. Hurt. Loss. Worry.
Next week is her due date. We thought we'd be having a baby next week. There will be a baby next week. But it won't be going to me.
I accidentally stabbed my hand over two months ago now, and I am still feeling much pain and soreness as the scar tissue must be forming underneath the surface. But because I am functioning just fine on the outside, I am the only one that FEELS this wound on the inside. It hurts! Still! When will it stop hurting?
I wonder if in God's providence, He ordained my physical injury to teach and prepare me for my upcoming emotional injury with this failed adoption. Because right now my heart is crying out, When will this stop hurting?
Just as the pain in my hand reminds me to do the things I need to do (like stretching, exercising, and massaging the scar tissue), the pain in my heart reminds me and points me to something else, too. Without the pain, I would have little need to turn to the One who comforts, who fills me up with grace for each day. Pain is the alarm to drive me to Jesus.
The scar on my hand is still forming and healing. The scar on my heart is the same.
From the outside, it appears to be over.
From the inside, I know it is not.
Grief leaves a scar. Though it will heal one day, the mark will always be there.
Thankfully there is Another who still wears scars on my behalf. And it's because of those scars, I know I will find my way through my own.