What does grief look like four years later? I’m not sure if people outside of the “loss club” think about this question or not, but I felt it was the perfect topic for today. I bet some people believe that grief gets lighter as time goes on. After all, time heals all wounds right?
One of the things my nurse said to Eric and I shortly after Harper was born was, “People are going to say a lot of really dumb things.” In the moment I couldn’t wrap my mind around what she meant. I was overcome with grief and my mind was trying to process the fact that I had just given birth to a lifeless baby girl. But as time went by, her words echoed back in my mind and I realized what she was trying to warn us of.
It didn’t take long for us to experience all kinds of, well, let’s just say “interesting” comments. Some were hurtful. Some were confusing. Some were just stupid. And some were cliches that are often used when people just don’t know what to say.
I wanted to talk today about one that I’ve probably heard more than all the others. Chances are, if I’ve told you my story, you have probably mumbled this phrase to me.
Two years. It has been two years since we first saw your face. That beautiful face. Two years ago our lives were turned upside down and we entered our lowest valley and our wish to raise you here on Earth did not come true.
To all of you raising two year olds out there- hello. You may or may not know me, but I deeply desire to know what your life is like right now. As you read that, perhaps you exhaled, rolled your eyes, or laughed thinking I couldn’t possibly be serious. You may feel that life with your two year old is nothing glamorous or anything that anyone would care to know about… but you’re wrong.
I think there is a common misconception about the difficulty of living life and the responsibility of being christian or religious. Somehow if you claim to love God, there is a pressure to be able to “hold it all together.” As if leaning on Him can’t look messy.
I want to share with you today that it can.
Trusting God in the midst of your circumstances is a complexly intricate mixture of emotions. It is not pretty. It is not easy. It doesn’t fit neatly in the church pew each Sunday. Faith, based not on the details of this life, but on the divine attributes of God, is grueling.
I am a man. I don’t cry unless my favorite team loses the championship… This is the common misconception about men. Men should just rub some dirt on it and grin and bear the pain.
Well, I have found that since we lost Harper, I am not the stereotypical male. Things just get to me. It’s a little bit embarrassing to talk about, but should it be? There are a number of things that trigger my tears and that list is a much longer list than it was before we lost Harper…
One of the things my nurse said to Eric and I shortly after Harper was born was, “People are going to say a lot of really dumb things.” In the moment I couldn’t wrap my mind around what she meant. I was overcome with grief and my mind was trying to process the fact that I had just given birth to a lifeless baby girl. But as time went by, her words echoed back in my mind and I realized what she was trying to warn us of.
It didn’t take long for us to experience all kinds of, well, let’s just say “interesting” comments. Some were hurtful. Some were confusing. Some were just stupid. And some were cliches that are often used when people just don’t know what to say.
I wanted to talk today about one that I’ve probably heard more than all the others. Chances are, if I’ve told you my story, you have probably mumbled this phrase to me.
To all of you raising two year olds out there- hello. You may or may not know me, but I deeply desire to know what your life is like right now. As you read that, perhaps you exhaled, rolled your eyes, or laughed thinking I couldn’t possibly be serious. You may feel that life with your two year old is nothing glamorous or anything that anyone would care to know about… but you’re wrong.
I think there is a common misconception about the difficulty of living life and the responsibility of being christian or religious. Somehow if you claim to love God, there is a pressure to be able to “hold it all together.” As if leaning on Him can’t look messy.
I want to share with you today that it can.
Trusting God in the midst of your circumstances is a complexly intricate mixture of emotions. It is not pretty. It is not easy. It doesn’t fit neatly in the church pew each Sunday. Faith, based not on the details of this life, but on the divine attributes of God, is grueling.
Alexa and I have been working on this Bible study/support group for about a year now. We started writing this class because we wanted some way to honor Harper. As I have prayed since day one that we found out we were pregnant with Harper, I want God to use Harper for His Kingdom. When we lost Harper, I was truly baffled at how my prayer would be fulfilled. However, in our conversations with other couples who have walked this road, our story and our testimony has helped them walk their own road.
I remember at the Hope Mommies' balloon release, a woman walked up and told Alexa that our blog, our story, had helped her in the midst of her loss. This is why Alexa and I do this. We want to use Harper and her story to make a difference in the lives of others who have a similar tragedy enter their lives.
Our class begins on 9/11 at 6:45 PM at Prestonwood Baptist Church-North Campus in Prosper. If you are local or have any friends who are local, please have them register at http://prestonwood.org/connect/group-studies/midweek-adult-classes and select North campus.
I am proud of my wife for ensuring that we got this class off the ground and working with me to make sure that it is filled with great Biblical content.
For those who have not lost a child, please pray that this class will bless those who come to it and that Harper's story will be used to better God's Kingdom through this class.
We look forward to seeing you and/or your friends who have walked the terrible road of loss.
It’s been over a year since I held my sweet, stillborn daughter- Harper Jane. My heart and my arms still ache for her each day. And as I suffer in this valley I have found myself in, I look around and realize I am not alone. There are so many others suffering from miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant loss all around me. They’re all around you, too.
