A Story Worth Sharing

I was standing in our bedroom closet with my mom, trying to organize the piles of stuff and unopened boxes. Whenever we move there is always a room or an area that becomes our ‘catch all’- the place where we put everything we’re not sure where it should go yet. That was our closet.

My mom knew exactly what she was doing and got to work hanging clothes and putting things in their proper places, casually asking where this or that might need to go. Maternity clothes?  It was simple. It was innocent. I grabbed a bag and shoved my maternity clothes into it. I tried to not think, just do. I tried to not care and told myself it’s just a task. Do the task. But my heart…it wouldn’t let me. It was reminding me that I should be wearing these clothes, not packing them away.

And there it was, the familiar feeling of tears filling my eyes and a deep deep ache. I was thankful for the baby’s cries at that moment, because it allowed me to stow away in her room while I fed her. And cried.

It’s these kinds of moments that just sucker punch you when you’re trying so hard to carry on. When you’re finally feeling somewhat normal again. When you’re not thinking about it constantly anymore.

These moments that just rip you to shreds, shatter your mending heart, make you cringe on the inside.

When a stranger sees you with your three kids and asks if you’re going to have another. When your  three year old touches your belly and asks if there’s a baby in there. When your husband comments on how great you look, that you have lost weight.

It’s innocent. But it still hurts so deeply.

These things get to me. They linger in my mind, they creep around my heart. When I can finally steal away a moment to myself it all comes flooding out. We were going to have another, yes. No my love, there is no baby in there. I should not be losing weight and getting thinner. My belly should be growing with life.

I cry out to God again. No Lord, this is not what I wanted. This shouldn’t have happened. I wanted THAT baby.

Somehow, as I’m anguishing again and reliving again this horrible nightmare, I feel the Lord’s peace wash over. I know that He’s telling me it’s not the end. I know that.

From the beginning of this tragedy I have felt God whispering to me that this is bigger than me, that He’s using this for others, that He’s bringing about His good. At first I felt very selfish, angrily stating that No, this was my baby and my loss and I wasn’t going to share it with anyone. I wanted this to be my story, to cling to devastation and to carry the burden of hurt. But gently and compassionately, as only God can, He nudged me along and gave me glimpses of how my story might impact the lives of others. He showed me how being open and vulnerable would speak to women going through the same thing, with women experiencing loss or the inability to conceive. 

But He’s also shown me that this story is not about losing a baby and it’s not just for those that have been in my shoes. It’s for everyone with a story to tell. Everyone needs to share their heartache and their burdens, they need to be open and vulnerable. For two reasons. One, it plays a huge part in your own healing process. When we share our story we validate our struggles and our hurts and our pain. We are able to release it and that takes away the burden of carrying it all by yourself. It doesn’t necessarily make it hurt any less, but there is a comfort in knowing that others are grieving with you and that others are sharing in your pain and that they are there for you.

And secondly, your story will resonate with others. Who is to say that someone else isn’t going through the same exact thing that you are and they need to hear that they are not alone. It may sound totally weird, but when I went through my miscarriage, there was comfort in other women sharing that they had also lost precious babies. Why? Because I could see that they came out of it, that they were able to move beyond the gripping pain and the overpowering darkness of despair. It’s not to say that they didn’t still feel that ache. I know that they still hurt. But they were able to comfort me and assure me that the overwhelming pain will begin to subside.

Sharing our story is important. It’s essential.

I have talked to a handful of people over the past 2 months who have thanked me for sharing my experience and for being transparent in my pain. This story has impacted lives.

My guess is that your story will impact lives as well. Whatever your story is, it needs to be told. Whatever you are holding on to, it needs to be shared.