raising redheads

It has been a really bad; really hard couple of days.
On Monday my grief took control and in the midst of a very long walk I found myself in the church library with a kind friend, pouring out my heart about life and God.  I was incredibly proud of myself for turning down the road and walking through the door.  I usually feel like I can handle everything on my own.  And now, I know that I cannot.  My sadness on some days is so overwhelming that just being able to express it makes a huge difference.  And this time, it was nice to say it to someone who hadn't already heard it before.

I read an article about the grief of special needs parents and felt the impact as the words said that grief is continuous.  There is no true closure.  It wraps around itself time and time again in an obnoxious reminder of what life is and is not.  The overwhelming nature of the grief is annoying and nagging with no end in sight.

Somewhere in the next day or two I was faced reality of a different kind when I had the opportunity to rise up and show strength to a long time friend.  Do you remember Abby?  Three weeks ago, Abby and her fiance' Morgan found out that they were 19 weeks pregnant with twins.  Not long after, Abby had to have emergency surgery due to a rare complications that some twins have.  Last week, she was admitted to a local hospital after having contractions and some signs of labor. 

Two days ago when we had Mabel's gastric emptying study at the same hospital that Abby is in, her water broke and the doctors began to tell her there was very little hope for her babies to survive.  In fact, if there were born at this point there weren't even machines small enough to help them try to keep them alive. 
Rache and I were able to be with Abby for a couple of hours that day and I pray that in the midst of her deep sorrow and anguish, she felt our true love and more importantly-the love of a Savior who sometimes sends people at the right moment to show His deep affection in the midst of undeserving, unimaginable pain. 

Yesterday at a little after 5 pm, Abby gave birth to Sophie Gwen.  She was 12 oz. and 11 inches long.  The doctors said that she would maybe live an hour.  At 10:02 pm, Sophie passed from this life into the next.  She spent her entire little life surrounded by people who loved her and were desperate for her.  What a lucky little girl.

As of today, Abby's contractions have slowed and she has not yet delivered Sage.  The doctors are amazed that this is the case. 
If you think of it, please pray for Abby and her family today as they continue to process all that has transpired and begin to feel the weight and reality of it all. 

As we walked the hospital two days ago Rache and I couldn't help but talk about how eery it all is.  Women who are giving birth to perfectly 'normal', and healthy babies are on the same floor as women who are laboring at 21 weeks.  One brings life, one brings death. 
It doesn't feel right that all should be intertwined.

That's how I feel sometimes in my own grief. 
Like the man who gets out of the car next to me smiling and singing shouldn't be allowed to do that when I'm getting out of my car with such a heavy heart.  The people laughing so hard they spit drinks out of their mouths at a restaurant should not be allowed to be so stinking happy.
Don't they know sadness?  Don't they know fear?  Have they not mingled with either?

This week I grieve for a dear friend.  A woman who was a little girl that I spent most of my teenage years babysitting, counseling, and loving.  I cannot express the pain in my heart for her now and in the months to come.  But what I do know is that I can put myself aside and love her greatly and I intend to do that.

Abby also has two little girls at home, Scarlet and Stella.  Please also pray for them, Abby's sisters, parents, grandparents, etc. 
She has a huge family-all who love her very much.

More to come...