One month

Has it really only been one month?  One month since we said hello and goodbye to Kathryn in the same breath?  One month of condolences and hugs and sympathy?  One month and 2 days ago that we felt our baby move for the last time?  In the last conference Pres. Eyring said, "One of the characteristics of trials in life is that they seem to make clocks slow down and then appear almost to stop."  Oh how true that is.

What a weird place I find myself in.  Outwardly, not much has changed in the last month.  I'm obviously not pregnant anymore, but everything else in our family appears just like it was before.  We go to church, to work, to the grocery store, to friend's houses.  People comment on our 4 little girls.  On Friday alone I had to answer the question "Are these all yours?" 3 times in less than an hour.  There is no infant carseat in the car, no bassinet in our bedroom, no extra loads of laundry.  I find myself still planning for a big, exciting event, for the changes it will bring...and then remembering it already happened.  And there won't be any changes.  And that leaves me wondering what to do with myself.

Last week someone new in the ward asked me how many kids I had.  I hesitated, and she pointed to Kassie and asked if she was my youngest.  "Um...yes?"  How do I answer that question?  I eventually explained my weird reactions to what should be easy questions.  A mother should at least be able to tell you how many kids she has, right? 

My sweet friend Angie sent me a gift this week.  It is a framed quote: "I can do hard things."  It's in reference to this blog.  That blog led me to another blog with stories from many, many women who have lost children.  I felt like a newly-inducted member of a club I never wanted to be a part of and wished didn't exist.  Their feelings were all too familiar - the shock, the anger, the sadness.  Most of their stories ended with some feelings I'm still working on - peace, acceptance, hope.

Don't get me wrong.  I haven't spent the last month in complete and utter sadness.  There have been happy moments and peaceful moments and blah moments and moments where I'm not feeling anything (that's probably the easiest one).  There have been moments of pure gratitude for the many, many joys in my life.  There have been moments of insight and spiritual promptings that have helped to make some little sense of all this.  It hasn't all been painful...but a lot of it has.  And I'm tired of feeling like this.  I'm tired of falling apart at weird things.  I'm ready for the peace and hope to outweigh the sadness.  But there doesn't seem to be a magic day where I can say, "Okay, now I'm going to be done grieving."  So I guess I need to learn how to do hard things.

Some of the other members of this "club" have helped.  There were several quotes that stood out to me on that blog.  For example, I have had a tendency to ask, "Why me?"  I am trying really hard to not be jealous of families with new babies.  Far too often I find myself thinking it's not fair.  So I have needed this from Pres. Packer: "Some are tested by poor health, some by a body that is deformed or homely.  Others are tested by handsome and healthy bodies; some by the passion of youth; others by the erosions of age.  Some suffer disappointment in marriage, family problems; others live in poverty and obscurity.  Some (perhaps this is the hardest test) find ease and luxury.  All are part of the test, and there is more equality in this testing than sometimes we suspect." (Oct 1980 General Conference)

Another woman said, "I am content that God be God.  I will not try to instruct him on his duties or on his obligations toward me or toward any of his children.  I know he lives and loves us, that he is God.  He's not unmindful of us.  We do not suffer out of his view.  He does not inflict pain upon us, but he sustains us in our pain.  I am his daughter; my [children are] also his [children]; we belong to him, and we are safe with him.  I used to think that we were safe from grief and pain here because of our faith.  I know now that is not true, but we are safe in his love.  We are protected in the most ultimate sense of all - we have a safe home forever.  That is my witness."

I have hope that one day I will look back on this month and remember more of the peace than the pain.  That more than anything I'll remember all the love.  Both the love felt in our little family, and shown to us by others.  Oh my goodness have we felt loved.  Others have truly mourned with us as we've mourned and comforted us when we've needed comfort (Mosiah 18:9).  I don't wish trials on anyone else, but I am ready to do for others what has been done for me.  I've learned so much.

Sorry for all these random thoughts.  That is how my brain seems to be working these days.  I guess my whole point with this is it's hard.  I've often been told that I'm so strong, but don't ever assume that because someone isn't crying that means they aren't suffering.  "In the quiet heart is hidden sorrow that the eye can't see" (Hymns 220).  But even in hard things there is joy and peace.  It's confusing, isn't it?  Yah, for me too.

But we're okay.  We can do hard things.