Two weeks and one day ago, I was sitting prepping posts for this website. I was taking pictures of the kids’ school books (a school post is coming), typing, and editing while breaking up fights between the boys, changing diapers, and cleaning messes. I burst out the front door to grab the escaping toddler, and looked over to see my “daughter’s” husband squatting under the chocolate tree (we have a chocolate tree in our yard…exotically cool, right?).
I immediately knew something was wrong.
My “daughter” had been showing signs that she would go into labor soon. They said they would call me when it was time. But her husband’s face didn’t look right. He said, “The baby is born. But he isn’t good, he wasn’t breathing. Your “daughter” isn’t doing well either.”
And just like that I was wading into the deep.
I half ran to my “daughter’s” house, and then carefully walked into the deep pool of sadness surrounding them. It is a hard thing to see a beautiful baby boy lying too still. It is a hard thing to hold onto my “daughter”, and cry with her. It is a hard thing to visit every day afterwards, and to sit, offering the only few words of comfort that I have. It is a hard thing to pray that she will not grow bitter, and that the deep will not drown her.
But I choose to believe.
I believe that if she clings to Him, who can give the only true comfort, she will find herself to have grown and changed in special and deep ways. As I face the hard and the deep, I am learning for myself that:
“suffering is part ofthe narrative, and emptiness and confusion often give way to new fullness and wisdom.”
Shauna Niequist Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way
*From what I’ve gathered, I think the baby died because of severe shoulder dystocia.