Grieving with Hope

I got in last night from a weekend in Austin.  One of my oldest and dearest friends - who I grew up with in school and church, who lived with me for 3 years in college, and who was my Maid of Honor - had a stillbirth.  Leslie and her husband, Harvey, were checking into the hospital for an induction when they recieved the worst news possible.  There was no heartbeat.  Their baby was gone.

Leslie texted me Thursday evening telling me what happened.  We got to talk on the phone, too, before she delivered her dear, sweet Wyatt.  It was a tough night, and I was definitely struggling.  In an exercise in full disclosure, here's what I wrote that night:

I can't sleep.

I've been tossing and turning in bed for the last 30 minutes, but finally gave up.  I need to "talk."

Y'all - I'm mad.  I got a text message this evening that I never want to get again.  One of my dearest friends lost her sweet baby.  She was going in to be checked into the hospital for her induction.  And 3 days after last hearing her sweet baby's heartbeat, it was gone.  No warning.  Just gone.

I am sick of babies dying.

I have vacillated all evening between extreme sadness and anger.

I talked to her on the phone.  They were starting to get things ready and organized to have a c-section, and she was just hours away from seeing and holding her baby for the first time.  And the last.  I told her to spend as much time as she wanted with her baby.  To not be scared of him.  But to love and kiss and hug all over him.  To take tons of pictures.  And after she thinks they've taken enough, take more.  Because this it.  This is your one and only chance.

I realize that all of this sounds dramatic, and I probably won't even post this, but I don't care.  It's the hard truth.  Losing a baby is about the stupidest thing in the world. 

So, yeah. 

I drove down to Austin on Friday after work, and didn't get to the hospital until 9:00 pm.  Leslie and I sat for 2 hours talking about everything.  And crying.  I got to see pictures of sweet Wyatt and hear a momma talk about her son. 

After everyone got a good rest on Friday night, we settled in for a long day at the hospital on Saturday.  And I kept on looking at Leslie and wondering if this is what I was like just 6 months ago.  Making small talk with people as they came in.  Seeming to be able to have things "under control."  It's amazing what someone in shock can do and say.  And that is where Leslie and Harvey find themselves - in absolute shock.

I told Leslie it will slowly wear off, but thankfully, it takes time.  I think that is God's way of protecting you from completely losing it.

There is a lot to Leslie's story that is hard for me to reconcile.  This was her first child.  Wyatt was completely healthy.  She was going in to be induced with her bags packed and the carseat in the car.

I spent some time out in the waiting room on Saturday afternoon so that Leslie could visit with other visitors.  Our group kind of took up a corner spot.  And there were a lot of people looking to me for wisdom.  Oh, that makes me laugh.

People were asking, "How in the world do you get over something like this?  What are you supposed to do?"

I told them that trusting that the Lord is still on His throne is the only thing you can count on.  It's the only thing that makes sense when a tragedy like this happens.

Someone said, "So that's it?  We trust that Lord is in charge and we know He has a bigger purpose?"

ABSOLUTELY that's it.  What else is there?

After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him. So Jesus said to the Twelve, “Do you want to go away as well?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have alone have the words of eternal life."  John 6:66-68

At this point I started crying.  Not because I was sad about Graham or Wyatt or Leslie, but because I was so passionate about what I was saying. 

This is not the way it was supposed to be.  The Lord is grieving alongside us.  He is heartbroken that Leslie and Harvey will not get to know their son this side of Heaven.  But when we put an eternal perspective on things we realize that this is also not all there is. (I'm Amen-ing myself over here.)  Let me say it again - this is not all there is. 

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed⁽ about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.  For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14

We can grieve with hope.  And we can rest in the promise that we will see Wyatt and Graham again.  Our sweet little red-headed boys are OK.  It's just us here on earth that are grieving the time we've lost with them.  But knowing that an eternity together in Heaven is on the horizon helps you wake up each day.

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.  John 16:33