It’s another sick day at the Hahn household.
I’m having a love/hate relationship with the sickies. On one hand I’m tired of coughing all night, I’m tired of being tired, I’m tired of being cooped up. On the other hand, it gives me a perfect excuse to remain in the bubble I put myself in ever since my doctors appointment almost 2 weeks ago.
I realized that I’ve only seen a very, very small handful of people since all of this happened. It’s unusual for me to not be out and about, meeting up with friends, being social and involved – but I feel fragile still. Like I’m walking around with a big open wound and exposure to the air itself stings.
Life will be moving along fine and then suddenly I am dissolving into tears over little things. Nighttime is the worst – when the kids are asleep, the world is quiet and my husband is breathing deeply beside me…it doesn’t seem to matter how exhausted I am. I stare into the darkness and think about the little one we’ll never meet in this lifetime.
Last night I was scrolling through Facebook pictures and came across some of me while I was pregnant with Beckett and was overcome with sadness that I didn’t get to experience that with this baby. I felt guilty remembering all the times I complained about the way pregnancy changed my body, or the discomfort I felt with each passing month. I would give anything to feel those things again now, to watch my belly grow, to feel the jabs and kicks in my ribs that take my breath away.
The other day I was driving in the car with the kids and a song came on the radio that I’d never heard before (not unusual these days, which I think means I’m getting old…) One of the lines jumped out at me and with a little help from Shazam, I downloaded the song.
The song is Home by Philip Phillips (who, apparently, is an American Idol or something – again I guess I’m old for not knowing but truth is I hate that show…)
I remind myself often, “Don’t pay no mind to the demons, they fill you with fear…” I find myself feeling so out of control lately. Realizing for maybe the first time ever just how little control I have over life. I found myself in tears after leaving the pediatrician’s office last week – Beckett was sick and even though I’m usually the Mom who waits TOO long before seeking out a doctor, this felt different. I was seized with irrational fear about what might be wrong with him, and with the knowledge that I can’t always control the well being of my own children. If I couldn’t protect the one who lived inside of me, how will I keep the children I have safe? (Beckett was fine, by the way. Just a cold that has since been passed to me…)
I know deep down I can’t live that way – I have to trust God to carry out His plan how He sees fit. And I have to know with every part of who I am that He is GOOD. Reminding myself of Romans 8:28, “I know He has purpose in even the things I cannot understand” It is hard. This experience has taught me how fragile life is – how poorly I’ve handled other people’s grief in the past. It’s taught me how little I knew about grief in general. It’s taught me that you can be going along happily on your own little path and suddenly your world just gets rocked to its core. It’s taught me how much I need my relationship with God to be as strong as it can be, at all times and not just in sorrow.
And I know this experience will continue to teach me things and I will continue to learn and grow from it. And it WILL be ok, even if I can’t see the light right now. Even if I spend the rest of my life not knowing or understanding why this child was taken away from us all too soon, I will know “He has a purpose in even the things I cannot understand.”