I received a comment a couple days ago from a new reader. Messages about our sweet pea always warm my heart. It's so neat to have complete strangers read the words I write...to see Grace's life touch someone else. Praise be to Him! Before I even put my fingertips to the keys, I pray that my posts are pleasing to Him, that I bring glory to His name, and that I share Grace's story in a vulnerable way so that I am able to shed light on the journey through the diagnosis of Anencephaly. It sure has been a beautiful but difficult path to walk. I know I fall short all the time of accomplishing the previous listed things. I do not convey my thoughts or feelings in the most appropriate way, but I try. And just as God gives us grace, it is my hope you'd do the same for me when reading my ever so scattered thoughts.
I am one of those people that never really understands a person's emotion or attitude when they write over the computer. I am extremely guilty of thinking a person is upset or frustrated by reading what they write. I do that by imagining how they would say the words I read in my head. I automatically think their response is stated in a negative way. This beyond a horrible trait I possess because it makes me defensive and a person I never wish to be. The frustration I receive from construing false tone makes me put up walls and I do not give the person grace in which they deserve. And so when I viewed a line from the comment I received from one of my readers, I automatically began to put up the defensive walls. Without a doubt, I'm sure I read the words in a different light than which they were intended and I hope my words do not come across as attacking. That is not the point behind this post. It actually helped to get me to write. This comment just allowed me to shed more light on my journey with Grace and I'm thankful for this avenue to do so. The person that left me a comment viewed the pictures of Grace in the hospital and commented on how she/he saw such pain and sadness... "The reality of that your hopes and dreams for Grace will never happen and that you have to let her go."
I'm sure whenever anyone views the photos from Grace's birth, it is very difficult stomach. When I see other Anen mom's pictures, tears begin to swell in my eyes. Several of the pictures were captured when Grace made her only sound that day. It was more like a squeak if anything, but it was a sound that pierced my heart because it was as though she was hurting and struggling to survive. And I couldn't do anything in my power to make her better, to nurse her back to health like a mother should. I felt as though I wasn't doing my part and it pained not to be able to care for my one and only daughter. What was portrayed in those images were real. So real that I feel like I relive her birth every time I see them.
There are other pictures, however, that portray a different image then the ones I previously referenced. There were pictures of me smiling at the good gift in my arms, kissing her delicate fingers, and even laughing as Grace clung to our fingers. God truly answered my prayers that day as I sat and took in the most precious two hours and seven minutes that I've ever been granted. He blessed with me a calmness and a peace that surpassed my understanding. We shed many tears that day as we returned our precious daughter to her Creator.
As this person stated, many of those tears were tears of sadness, but the majority of my tears were tears of joy. Tears that reminded me that Grace has a Savior that paid the price for her so that she may spend an eternity with him. A reminder that she is in heaven where her every need is met and she's surrounded by everything that is good, pure, and whole. The tears that poured down were tears of thankfulness because God chose us specifically and allowed Paul and I to be her earthly parents for however long He decided. I don't think it's any surprise that He had her take her last breath while I was in the restroom. I remember handing Grace over to her daddy and smiled while I mustered up the strength to walk into the restroom. The way he displayed his love for her that day will forever be etched in my heart and I am so thankful that she passed peacefully in his arms. I fully believe that God had that perfectly planned. I'm not a strong person by a long shot and I truly don't believe I could have witnessed her taking her last gasp. I'm certain it would have hit me hard. It's amazing to see God's hand in every aspect Grace's life. I'm so thankful he watched over us all that day.
I came across a quote by Gregory Flyod that left me thinking about my sacred dance of grief and joy. He says, "Our faith gives us the sure hope of seeing [her] again, but the hope does not take away the pain." I remember as though it was yesterday...running out to tell Paul he was going to be a daddy. While we sat down for dinner every night while I was pregnant, Paul would lead us in prayer. He would ask God to bless our food to our bodies, to move our hearts to be more like Him, to bless us with a healthy child, to be parents that would instill a love of Christ inside our child, and we'd always close in prayer for our dear family and friends. After we finished praying, our conversations always led us to our unborn child...the hopes and dreams we had together, as a family and for him/her. After we received Grace's diagnosis, the reality hit that I'd never get to hear her say mama, braid her hair, paint her nails, build sandcastles with her, encourage her, tell her she's stunning, wipe away her tears, watch her walk down the isle, or witness her bringing another life into this world. I was crushed every time I thought about what could have been if she would have been able to roam this earth. I knew God had the power to fix her and often times I begged and cried out to our Lord to heal her. Tears would begin to roll down my face and a flood of emotions would over take me every time I thought about my hopes for her...it still happens to this day.
But every time this happens, I feel the calming of my spirit. He reminds me that she has beat me to the best place where she is made whole and for that I need to be thankful. She is with the God that was pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our inequities, and healed because of his wounds (Isaiah 53:5). Grace will never be bullied, have a broken heart, witness someone passing, or partake in the countless acts of sin. And even when I feel like my hopes and dreams run dry for Grace, He reminds me that He hasn't forgotten, nor abandoned her or us. My hope always needs to be put in Him. And one day, He will redeem what seemed hopeless.
I did have to let Grace go physically. I placed her into the arms of a complete stranger and never saw her again. But just because I let her go physically, doesn't mean I have to let the memory of her fade away. I simply cannot let her go. Period. She will be apart of my life until the day I die. She will forever be my baby girl and with me wherever I go.
Remember your word to your servant, for you have given me hope. My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life. Psalm 119: 49-50
Sustain me according to your promise, and I will live; do not let my hopes be dashed. Uphold me and I will be delivered. Psalm 119: 116-117
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