(Today was a new kind of hard day, like we might have to invent another word for it, and John asked if he could blog about it for me. There is so much in his heart right now to say. It helps to get it out any way you can. xo, debra)
“Paul D”
“What, baby”
“She left me.”
“Aw, girl. Don’t cry.”
“She was my best thing.”
Paul D sits down in the rocking chair and examines the quilt patched in carnival colors. His hands are limp between his knees. There are too many things to feel about this woman. His head hurts. Suddenly he remembers Sixo trying to describe what he felt about the Thirty-Mile Woman. “She is a friend of mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. It’s good, you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind.” …
“Sethe,” he says,"me and you, we got more yesterday than anybody. We need some kind of tomorrow.”
He leans over and takes her hand. With the other he touches her face. “You your best thing, Sethe. You are.” His holding fingers are holding hers.
“Me? Me?”
-from Beloved by Toni Morrison
Debra went to see her OB today after a weekend of heavy bleeding and mild cramping, much worrying and many prayers. She left early, I stayed with the kids, and we waited. After about an hour or so she pulled up, eyes red and puffy. She didn’t see me through the window, but I already knew when she first told me about the bleeding three days ago.
When I opened the door, her eyes met mine and she immediately turned her head to the side as if she couldn’t stand the possibility of pain and disappointment in my face. ‘I’m sorry’ she said. “Oh, no. No, no, no,” I cried.
She reminded me of our ultrasound a few weeks ago when we couldn’t distinguish much of the baby, but the heartbeat was so clear, beating away with new life. But this time, she saw the face and the little body so clearly, but never any heartbeat. Our baby had died.
We sat down on the couch and cried and cried. Soren and Maisey joined us and cried even more. They tried to relate to our grief, but five and seven year olds see the world much differently than we more complicated adults do and it is hard to know what is really going on in those tiny heads. Soon they were off to a friend’s house to stay the night and Debra and I were on our way to the hospital for the inevitable. On the drive over I didn’t know what to say to her, how to tell her how much I love her or—what’s more—how to show her. I mean really show her. Instead, we got out of the car and I just walked beside her in silence. Then she put her hand on her stomach and said, ‘I know this sounds crazy, but I keep thinking this is the last time me and the baby will be together and I want it to last a little longer.’ Again, I cried because it didn’t sound crazy but beautiful and full of grace. I realized then and told her as we held hands walking through the parking lot, ‘I was made for you, Debra, for this moment to walk beside you and hold you up’. We both cried some more and I knew she understood, it was grace upon grace.
Up the elevator we went then waited and waited just to sign papers. The cramping grew worse and she was in a lot of pain. Finally we got a room, an IV and a pretty paper napkin of a hospital gown. From the bathroom, I heard her let out a gasp as she was changing. The bleeding turned to gushing. When she was finally able to sit down on the stretcher, the gown was so tightly wrapped around her legs that she was kind of trapped and since she couldn’t lean back or get her feet up onto the bed she just kind of leaned over and fell on her side in exasperation with her feet still on the ground. She laughed, I laughed and I saw how beautiful she was in that moment.
The nurse came back and made us sign more papers. It was all kind of chaotic and confusing. It was time for us to go to pre-op where they explained ‘everything’ to us, and tried to convince us this was a ‘good thing’. We couldn’t see it that way. A necessary thing, a hard thing, but not a ‘good thing’. As I cried, a nurse who was the only one who treated the situation and my wife with the delicacy and compassion warranted looked at me and said ‘We will take good care of her.’ I looked back and said ‘Please, she’s my best thing.’
I love my wife and she is an amazing artist and mother. And in the face of her greatest hardship all these things I knew and felt about her only grew deeper. We made it through and Debra is home resting. She’s letting me post on her blog about today, a hard day, a day where I saw the very hand of God brush my wife’s face and make her stronger, more beautiful, more full of grace than I have ever seen. I love her more now than at any point in our 13 years of marriage. But at the same time, I miss our baby. I have to ask, why now God? Why does it take something like this to happen for me to understand all this about her? What gives her that strength, that beauty, that grace? I am left with no other conclusion: it is Christ in her. I am more convinced than ever that there is no other hope than that which is offered in Christ. I don’t know why our baby died, why God allowed this to happen, and I don’t need to ask Him why it happened. I know that He loves me and Debra and Soren and Maisey and you, who are reading this. I could ask why or be angry, but I have come to know that He will mostly be silent. This is a great mystery, how God can be so evident in this difficult hour and yet so silent.
There is a song by Andrew Peterson that I can’t help but think of now. It has been on my mind for many reasons lately and it speaks so well to where we find ourselves now. I hope when you read it you think of Him, and think of my wife, she is my best thing….
It's enough to drive a man crazy; it'll break a man's faith
It's enough to make him wonder if he's ever been sane
When he's bleating for comfort from Thy staff and Thy rod
And the heaven's only answer is the silence of God
It'll shake a man's timbers when he loses his heart
When he has to remember what broke him apart
This yoke may be easy, but this burden is not
When the crying fields are frozen by the silence of God
And if a man has got to listen to the voices of the mob
Who are reeling in the throes of all the happiness they've got
When they tell you all their troubles have been nailed up to that cross
Then what about the times when even followers get lost?
'Cause we all get lost sometimes...
There's a statue of Jesus on a monastery knoll
In the hills of Kentucky, all quiet and cold
And He's kneeling in the garden, as silent as a Stone
All His friends are sleeping and He's weeping all alone
And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot
What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought
So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God
I am so sorry. My prayers and wishes and thoughts and good everything go out to you right now. Bless you all.
Posted by: Angie | September 16, 2008 at 01:50 AM
I'm painfully aware that words won't help your sorrow at such a devastating loss but wanted to say how sorry I am that your family have had to endure this. Take good care.
Posted by: London Mummy | September 16, 2008 at 01:59 AM
In 1 Cor. 1:13 it says that God is the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort and I pray He surrounds you with His love and peace right now - I can't even imagine the pain you are all in and I pray the Lord is so evident in the upcoming days - I'm praying for you all.
Posted by: Amber | September 16, 2008 at 02:00 AM
You are wrapped up in love.
Posted by: Hashi | September 16, 2008 at 07:27 AM
John and Debra...There are no words to express my deep sorrow. No words to ease the pain, but I share a little story of 12 years ago... as I came out of an operating room after losing my second child and saw my sister's eyes full of grace and love. She said, "God has really blessed you." I gave a weak smile and said "funny I don't feel blessed." She just squeezed my hand. I know she meant Taelor and Ally, but as time goes on I realize she was my blessing at that moment and many other tragic times in my life...as you have been my blessings. I still miss my babies and I know you will always miss yours...I'm glad you have each other, your children, your family, your friends, your faith. I'm blessed that you are my family. I weep with you. I mourn with you. And I love you.
Posted by: Elizabeth | September 16, 2008 at 07:56 AM
I'm so sorry -- I am in tears. I can see beauty and grace in this post, though, and I trust you soon will feel the everlasting arms underneath that we know are there sometimes by faith alone.
Posted by: Barbara H. | September 16, 2008 at 08:20 AM
I am so sorry for you and wish I could make it better. Love, tears and prayers, Kathi
Posted by: Kathi | September 16, 2008 at 09:05 AM
Thank you for sharing this. I am holding your family in my heart. Your words have opened up something about Jesus and faith that has been closed down in me for several years. I sit here in tears surrounded by the mystery of it all.
bless you
Posted by: Gwen | September 16, 2008 at 12:44 PM
I am so sorry. I know you wanted this so much. Prayers and faith.
Posted by: Nicole | September 16, 2008 at 03:22 PM
I am so very sorry for your loss. Please know that you and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.
Posted by: Doris | September 16, 2008 at 05:47 PM
Dear Debra and John,
You have touched my heart with yours. We will be lifting you before the Giver of comfort, peace and love. We love you all.
Love and prayers,
Gloria and Bill
Posted by: Bill and Gloria | September 16, 2008 at 06:16 PM
May our Lord continue to lift you up in this time of sorrow. Thank you both for sharing. I am sure that you have touched many hearts with the story of your loss, your love and your faith.
Posted by: Dawn | September 16, 2008 at 07:13 PM
I'm so sorry ... I'll be praying for you both and for your little one.
Posted by: Jennifer | September 17, 2008 at 07:06 AM
How beautiful your husband's words and his love for you.
Posted by: ginnycartersmallenburg | September 17, 2008 at 08:59 AM
John and Debra, having had two miscarriages of our own, we know the grief you feel. Pain will subside giving way to hope that one day we will see our children in heaven. John, a song by Mercy Me called "Bring the rain" has broughtr me comfort lately and I think you would like it. Know that you and Debra are in our prayers. May the Lord give you peace and comfort in these coming days. We love you guys and hope to see you soon.
Posted by: David & Gracie Delgado | September 17, 2008 at 10:00 AM
Love and Light, Peace and Healing to your whole family....
Brenda Bliss
Posted by: brenda bliss | September 17, 2008 at 02:10 PM
we love you. that was very moving and as i was reading i couldn't help but think it sounded somewhat confessional and freeing. i hope.
Posted by: jonathan | September 17, 2008 at 04:08 PM
Beautiful people, my heart goes out to you at this sad time.
Posted by: Stacey | September 18, 2008 at 04:11 AM
thank you for sharing, we also just lost our baby - on labor day (it would have been our third too)... i wish i had the strength that it sounds like you have...i had to only skim your post so that i did cry, but i know that i will want to come back and read it again...may the lord continue to strengthen you and hold you through this difficult time...thank you again for sharing
Posted by: beth | September 18, 2008 at 07:37 AM
When this happened to me and our family, the song I kept singing was "I Will Praise You in This Storm." I'm so sorry for your loss, but glad that you do have hope and faith to sustain you.
Posted by: Cindy Ericsson | September 18, 2008 at 10:03 AM
oh, my sweet friends. how beautiful your words though they be written in a time of such sorrow. i admire your hearts, your desire to seek Christ in all things, and your love for one another. as i sit here, cheeks still tear stained, i am smiling because i know that you are resting in His love and that you are comforted by One now that many will sadly never know. thank you for being willing to share your unadultarated emotions, for your transparency, so that those of us reading might be blessed and look to our Lord... and maybe even be reminded of the beauty in our own spouses that we sometimes fail to see. we love you deeply.
Posted by: apainter | September 18, 2008 at 08:33 PM
May God continue to bless your family during this time. We pray for peace and comfort. Your words were an encouragement of how God loves his church, even when things seem to fall apart. God Bless.
Posted by: tellofamily | September 19, 2008 at 07:27 AM
We are so sorry about your loss. What a beautiful written expression of emotion this post was. Praying for your family!
Posted by: Lorren | September 19, 2008 at 09:10 AM
the loving, soothing, calming hand of God!
Posted by: aaron | September 19, 2008 at 09:27 AM
At times like these words like "I'm sorry" seem so shallow. Hold tight to God's hand. He has His grip on you and won't ever let go. You are in my prayers.
Posted by: Account Deleted | September 19, 2008 at 10:32 AM
Your strength in such a dark time is so amazing and beautiful. I'm very sorry for your loss and I will pray for you and your family.
Posted by: Xan | September 19, 2008 at 03:39 PM
You and your family are in my prayers this morning. Thank you for opening your heart and sharing this sad moment. You have shown another moment of grace and strength yourself. You are love personified!!
Posted by: Kim | September 20, 2008 at 10:07 AM
So deeply honoured you felt you could share... weeping and praying with you...much love...
Posted by: Heather Thorp | September 20, 2008 at 02:59 PM
This post written with raw emotion brought me to tears. I am so very sorry for your loss and will keep you and your family in my thoughts and prayers.
Posted by: Serena | September 20, 2008 at 03:14 PM
thank you. My husband & I experienced (suffered?, Had?, tolerated?) 6 miscarriages in 3 yrs. (20 yrs ago). We saw and felt the hand of God in our misery. Thank you for putting in words what we felt.
Posted by: karen l | September 29, 2008 at 07:18 PM
I don't think I stumbled onto your blog by accident. I lost my second baby September 3rd.
Your husband's words are beautiful and I know if my husband blogged he would be saying the same exact things.
I'm glad you have Jesus to help you through this.
Thanks for posting such personal blogs for strangers like me to read.
May God hold you tight during these hard times.
Posted by: Sarah | October 01, 2008 at 03:49 PM
I cried as I read this. It took me back to my own time, and made me wonder when our daughter will stop asking about "the baby that died in my tummy". She was just three, and it has been three years, but she brings it up every few weeks. I know one day she will not remember, and that is good ... but I will never forget. I think of my baby often, remembering its perfect body but no beat. I know that it happens for a reason, but it is not a comfort. The only comfort is the arms of your family, and the little lives you already have made. Take care, grieve for your loss and live for your loves.
Posted by: CarrieJ | October 12, 2008 at 09:17 PM
I just read this post right now, and just wanted to send my love.
I had a miscarriage in July, and i understand the deep pain that you are feeling.
Sending you warm wishes so that you may all heal your hearts..
Posted by: Lisa Pijuan-Nomura | November 09, 2008 at 08:03 AM
Deb, this has me in tears, because, as you know, I know this pain so well, and so fresh. I am so strengthened and blessed by your husband's words about your grace and your faith. Thank you for taking a moment to stop by my blog and let me know that you had been through this as well. there is comfort in knowing you are not alone.
The light of Christ shines through you, even in this hard, hard time.
xo.
Posted by: molly | November 10, 2008 at 03:04 PM