Brought to my Knees

Wow. This is neat. And scary. And I'm going to do it. I decided that I am supposed to share my story, my journey over the last few months. For people to know that they are not alone--that there are others who are struggling, but more over, how I've found and experienced the peace that is offered to me, offered to us all. Some of you reading this know all about my story. Some of you know parts of it, and some of you might not know any of it at all.

It started in January 2012. New year, new hopes. I found out that I was pregnant, and it was beautiful news for us to hear. We wanted to expand our family so badly. We went to our first appointment at 8 weeks, and we again heard a beautiful noise. A heart beat. then another heart beat. You can imagine our surprise and delight. We were having twins. I will interject here, that this was less of a surprise to me. I had been having dreams for weeks before I was pregnant that I was going to have twins. They were identical, a spontaneous gift from God. My heart and my stomach grew. Three weeks later in March I went to see my new doctor. And it was the exact opposite experience for us. During the ultrasound there was only silence. Heart breaking, drop me to my knees silence. I heard words and phrases thrown at me like "non-viable," "better this early then later in the pregnancy." I was devastated and depressed. I sobbed and slept for the rest of the day. A week came and went and it was time for the procedure. I again had a weepy and sleepy day. And in one moment of almost being awake but still being asleep, I had a dream. It was a dream of my wonderful grandmother with whom I had a very close relationship, and of a teacher of mine in high school, with whom I was also very close. And they were sitting in rocking chairs. And each of them had a baby in her arms. And my grandma looked at me in my dream and said "we've got them." And I found just a little bit of peace (I have tears streaming down my face in recounting this).

I also found a lot of peace with my son's laughter. It's hard to crawl into a hole of depression when you have an almost two year old giggling and playing with his daddy. He has always been a blessing to me, but I felt it even more acutely during this time. We also felt sure that God had a plan. That we could not explain it, or understand it, and it didn't take away the pain, but I had to believe that there was a reason.  Don't get me wrong, I had some anger. Some moments where I wanted to tear my clothes and shake my fists at God. I will also be honest, I was upset enough, that I did not delve into the Word for comfort at first, but I did find a lot of comfort in Christian music. It seemed that every time I turned on the radio I was hearing songs that spoke directly into my heart. Kind of like a nudge from Jesus, saying you might not be turning to me completely for comfort but I am going to show you that I am here anyway.  Every Falling Tear (an album that I downloaded and listened to on the car ride home from my D&C) by Matt Hammitt, and Mercy Me "The hurt and the healer" there were others but those are what I remember off of the top of my head. And then I found this verse and it helped give me comfort...Psalms 56:8. It talks about God catching all of your tears in a bottle and recording them in His book. And it reminded me that I was being held and that I was not alone in my pain or my sorrow...and it was the start of my journey to peace that can only be given by the One who created all, and it started from my knees.