Monday, August 13, 2012

Not Strong.

It has been a little over two months since precious Mia graduated from our cozy home to her heavenly home. It was a regular Monday morning, much like this one, when the loving family sphere I had maintained tipped into an off-balance spin.  I laid my 8 week-old daughter down for a morning nap, and 45 minutes later my mommy-heart was so badly pierced it will never recover. This blog is my attempt to give people an honest look into my daily life after losing my daughter.
People have said that I am strong.  I don't know what to say to that.  Immediately I realize that those people who say this have no idea how difficult losing my daughter has been and how exhausting it continues to be.  If they knew just the loss of mental control I have experienced, they would think twice before making that statement.  You see, I have been too vulnerable to tell more than only my most trusted advisers the depth of my misery.  I have been so low in spirit that all I wanted to do was crawl into a dark corner and not come out.
Very little of what previously motivated me continues to motivate me to go on living.  It is only by clinging onto my Savior each day I awake that I find the courage to continue caring for my husband and boys.  Every morning I start out feeling unattached to this life, falling through the frames of how life used to be to the way it is now. I have lost my child.  Some people say that they could never do this- they couldn't even get out of bed after losing a child.  To that I say, you're probably right. You couldn't.  I'm pretty sure I can't even get out of bed in the morning if it was up to me.
If they knew how much I ache everyday, they wouldn't know what to say.  I have been asked if I have given this loss "a place" yet.  Almost like I can remove the gaping hole Mia left to a remote corner of my mind to be brought out when I choose.  If they only knew that if I try not to think of her, I eventually become physically ill.  Cleaning a few boxes out of her room leaves me unable to move for hours afterwards, the weight of grief is so heavy.  Occasionally my heart breaks all over again, leaving my body curled up and sobbing uncontrollably.  I cry for hours.  Sometimes I text people to pray for me because I think the tears won't stop.
I have been asked if I am "over it".  I will never be over the fact that my precious girl is no longer mine to hold.  Losing a perfectly healthy child so unexpectedly has felt wrong and dark.  It wasn't natural.  Nothing is natural about death- it was never part of God's perfect creation.  Life with my three healthy children felt right.  Now it all feels wrong.
My mind has to rail against the lies that Satan wants me to believe. When I was at my lowest, Satan picked at me.  I Peter 5:8 says that, "Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour."  Well, I have made a pretty good target.  I contracted a severe case of the flu the week after her funeral.  Lies swirled as I tossed in my feverish state: "My marriage will fail,"  "I will never be happy again," "Life holds no joy," "I am alone," "God doesn't love me," "This is not how my life is supposed to look," "My life is over."  And the worst lie of all, "I should have prevented Mia's death."
Some Christians who mean very well tell me versions of the same thing: "This is difficult but you will get through this by faith."  I can't help but feel like they are minimizing the difficulty of Mia's death and its aftermath.  What does living by faith mean anyway?  It sounds like since my sins are forgiven(And they are. Unending praise be to my Savior, Jesus!), then everything else eventually just works itself out.  On one hand, I would be lost without the certainty of enjoying God's presence in heaven when I die.  However, using my faith in this life after Mia's death feels a lot like a vicious battle... a battle for my life.  It feels like I am in the thick of a fiery attack and it doesn't really feel like I'm going to make it out alright.  
As life moves forward from the date of Mia's death, those lies have not disappeared.  As exhaustion sticks around, lies and the emotions they evoke resurface.  I am constantly crawling back to God's Word out of my desperate need for His truth and His comfort.  My only comfort is that God loves me.  And He will make this right someday.  Oh, make no mistake that I can actually feel that the previous sentence is true.  I write that because I need to believe it- it says that over and over in the Bible.  I need that hope.  Without it, I would have already despaired.
No matter how strong I tried to be, it was not enough.  I would have to be cold and unloving to be able to make it through this without God's help.  There is no way a mommy can love and lose as I have and make it without Supernatural intervention.  That is why I bristle when someone says that I am strong.  At worst, it is dishonoring to the love I have for Mia.  At best, it is ignorant of how difficult this grief is to carry.
This morning, as every other morning, I am not strong.  But God requires me to live only today.  I have to remember to live only today.  Lately, my mind becomes overwhelmed with trying to make decisions that will effect the future.  I have to stop myself from trying to figure out Noah's schooling or what we will do for our Fall vacation.  I think I can make it through today.
When I woke up this morning I reminded God, "I can only do today with You.  You have to help me.  Without your divine help, I will lose it.  I'm expecting to get through this together.  That means anyone and anything that helps me today I will recognize as coming from You.  Help me!"
Here is a verse that has helped me all along, with expanded notations from a friend:
John 16:33
Amplified Bible (AMP)


  1. I imagine there is no being "strong" in this. Just trying your best one day at a time like you are. I hate the pain you are enduring Ruth. I hope writing and sharing proves to be a positive outlet for your heart.

  2. Loss and grief is so unimaginably hard for anyone who has not experienced it first hand to understand. Praying for you to go through each day clinging to God.

  3. Ruth, Your honesty is amazing and I respect you for sharing so deeply from your soul. I love you...Amelia

  4. Ruth,
    As I too, have lost my daughter, and I too write, I am quite certain that with every word written, there were intense tears. It has proved to be healing for me to yell out my pain and eventually find hope through writing.
    Your daughter was beautiful, and I know the pain of having to suddenly accept your life without her. It is no fun, unfair, and you are right...none of us is strong enough to endure this pain without God.
    Hang in there... Overly stated but true, "One day at a time" and somedays one hour at a time.


  5. Dearest Ruth,
    Thank you for sharing your deeply personal struggles. A pastor told me a long time ago that it is not God's will for me to go crazy. I've clung to that through some unspeakably horrific times. No one can feel your pain, nor read your mind, but you are right: God is faithful, and He will keep on holding you close, holding you tight, and being your Comfort. Minute by minute . . .
    Much, much love,