“Neonatal demise secondary to SIDS” that was my trap door today. I fell through it. Hard. As I walked out of my OB appointment I happened to read a report from a specialist that marked indicators for my care. I know, and appreciate that I need special care because I lost a baby, but those words pierced me. They are so cold. So clinical.
Azaiah was my baby. Azaiah is still my son. He is not a “neonatal demise.”
Today the pain of his loss is raw. My arms ache. My heart is mangled. Today I didn’t schedule a day for grief, but I am afraid it scheduled one with me. And so today, I grieve.
Today I long to be somewhere else. But I am afraid my invitation to that somewhere else hasn’t arrived yet.
I’m torn between two desires: I long to go and be with Christ, which would be far better for me. But for your sakes, it is better that I continue to live. Phil. 1:23-24
I am torn between two desires. I long to go be with my son and my Savior. I know it would be better for me.
I know my sisters in grief share my desire. We long for heaven. We cry out for peace. Yet we know there is a purpose for our feet to still be tied to this earth. There is a reason we continue to live. We still have children to care for here. We still have husbands. We still have ministries and work and purposes that require our hands and hearts to remain.
But sometimes, we just have to pause. We have to stop the ministering and work and purpose for just a moment and sit. We must sit in our grief. We must weep for our loss. We must feel it for the day. And it doesn’t feel like in those moments, but we will open our hearts to the possibility for great delight in all the others.
Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning. Psalm 30:5
