Four months ago, I was waiting to go to the hospital to induce the birth of our dead daughter. Eight and a half weeks ago, I began the journey into pregnancy without even knowing that I was.
One child who is dead. One child who is just beginning to live.
How can I resolve these two realities?
The truth is that I am struggling. And really, I am struggling far less than I would have expected. I have only had a handful of sleepless nights since finding out that another's life again lives within me, only a few horrible days were anxiety ruled. Strangely, the fear has been less than it seems it should be.
But it is still there.
How do you celebrate new life when the life you already celebrated and expected and lived for the fulfillment of ended without out warning, without known cause? When your life has already been the definition of traumatic? How do you hope for the best when the worst, that rare worst, has already scarred you?
This is what I am learning.
I don't know if I am learning it well. But I am trying.
I think -- I think -- what it comes down to is trust. The only other option is a life of bitterness and fear and hopelessness. Because I have already learned how little I can control in this life, how little is truly under my power to protect. There is only One that has true control, true power, and I try everyday to trust Him.
Some days it is not as hard. Strangely, it was easier to trust God in the days and weeks after Eve died than it is now. But I am still trying. Trust is not a feeling. It is a discipline. I am trying to discipline my heart and mind, trying to cultivate trust that He is out for our growth, not our hurt.
I am trying to let Him grow trust in me.
My first baby died. This baby might die. My husband, my friends, my family, my dogs, my health -- nothing is exempt. But everything is in His hands.
And so I choose to trust. Even though it is hard. Even though at times it feels like throwing myself off a cliff. Even though God feels very far away.
I choose to trust the One worthy of all my trust.