One of the worst sounds I’ve ever heard was when I was nearby a woman just learning of her son’s suicide. I watched, as if in slow motion, her body crumble to the ground. While in the fetal position, a wailing sound came from her. She was weeping, and it was a deep cry coming from the depths of her soul. She was a stranger to me. I’d never met her. From that moment on, I’d never forget her or that sound billowing out from her inner most being.
I heard this sound a second time. It was right after the earthquake in Haiti. A woman was on the news sitting next to her dead child’s body on the side of the road. She was rocking back and forth. As she sat in a pile of concrete rubble, this sound was pouring from her lips, through the TV, to my ears, and into my heart. It was deep, powerful, painful, and originated from her spirit. The sounds from this broken Haitian woman still echo in my mind.
It’s the sound of pain. It’s the sound of loss. It’s the sound of something that was a part of them being ripped away. It’s powerful, and makes your own heart break seeing it from a distance. It did to me both times. The sound is unmistakable. On June 17th, 2010, I was surprised to hear it again. Only this time, it was coming from me.
In what was a little more than two short months of happiness, our joy turned to sadness. We learned that the child I was pregnant with had died in my womb. As that same sound poured from me, I felt an eerie invitation into the brotherhood of mothers who have experienced loss. It’s a brotherhood of sorts for the suffering. I was repulsed by it. It’s not the kind of club you dream of joining. Unfortunately, there is no option to “return to sender” on this type of invite. There was no box to check “not able to attend” on the RSVP section. I was violently taken there with my feet dragging, and I hated the forced initiation. In this club, there are many, probably more than we know. Although it’s a comfort knowing you’re not the only one there, it doesn’t take away the reason you are there…the loss of a child. It’s not an easy thing to go through.
The baby died, but my body didn’t know it. We had gone in for an ultrasound, and it was expected to be routine. Instead of leaving with a picture in our hands and smiles on our faces, we left with concerns. Something didn’t seem right. One week later, it was confirmed that the baby was no longer alive. It’s surreal how it feels like a lifetime ago, but yet only yesterday that it all happened. It changed me and I’ll probably never be the same. How can you lose something so precious to you and not be changed? I felt crushed, robbed, and broken.
I remember the prayers softly spoken as tears violently chased each other down my face so many nights. I silently muttered them with the slightest ounce of faith. It was so small; you could say it was the size of a mustard seed. “Lord, please start healing my heart.” Deep down, I wasn’t sure it would happen. Gradually, it did.
As the one year anniversary of that day draws near, I’m in awe of how He works. Do we still hurt? Yes, there will always be a scar on our hearts. However, God’s plan is great and we rejoice in the joy He has given us since that horrible day in June. I’m now expecting a little one due in Sept. We’ve made it past the danger zone of the first trimester and as my Dr. says “everything looks perfect” this time around. A sweet little miracle was in store for us. We prayed for it and received. I look forward to the day in Sept when we can introduce him or her to the world.
I have a small jar of mustard seeds on the counter of our kitchen. I look at it often and am reminded of the verse below. May you claim the promises He has for you in whatever place you are in your life. A miracle may just be in store for you in the days ahead…..
Matthew 17:20
"He replied, “Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”
