There was a little girl....

I wrote this post a few months ago, but didn't feel ready to post it at that time.  After reading it again tonight, I decided it was time.  It has been a challenging month and a half for me as I recover from a stress fracture in my hip and I haven't been feeling my best emotionally.  Life has been challenging for my husband and my kids as well.  But through all of this my family has been loved and supported by our family and friends and OUR AMAZING CHURCH FAMILY.  So, I couldn't think of a better time to share the story of how we came to join our wonderful church and found such a loving home there.  Here it is:

This post is one that has been on my heart to write for the longest time, and recent circumstances in my extended family have brought it back up again in my mind and in my heart, so I figured it was time.  I just never knew exactly what I should say or how I should say it.  What do you say when a stranger's tragedy literally alters the course of your life? Would you want to know?  Would you want to know if a loss that you suffered ended up saving someone's soul, and maybe even their family?

What is the measure of a life?  I suffered a loss, a miscarriage with my first child.  The child of my heart, the one I will always miss.  I only knew that she existed for six short days.  Then she was gone.  I grieved for her with all my heart and all my soul.  And I wondered, what was the point?  How could her life have any purpose at all.  Now I know that it did.  Loving and losing her has helped to shape the person that I am today.  I know that talking about her and what I went through has helped others, and in that, my child's life did have a purpose.  My arms still ache to hold her, but I know that I will someday, and that knowledge does give me peace.

But there was another little girl, one that I never met, that had a greater impact on my life than I could have ever even possibly imagined.

When my son was six months old, my postpartum depression was just starting to get out of control. I was very lost at this point, and over the next two months it was only going to get worse.  But it was when he was six months old a tragedy happened in our town and a family that I had never met, lost their five year old daughter to an illness.  The loss happened pretty quickly after diagnosis.  Somehow this little girl's story spread all over the local area.  I remember holding my babies and sobbing, hurting so much for her parents.  We wanted to do something to help.  I talked with my husband about it and he reached out to help at a local fundraiser that was going to help the family with the medical expenses.  But just like that she was gone.  The event still happened and the money went to help the family and to also start a foundation in the child's name.  A foundation that continues to do amazing things for families in our local area.  I am forever amazed by these parents who took their grief, and used it spread love in their daughters name.  My husband continues to help out with events for this charity whenever he can.

Aside from the impact of being sad for this family, this little girl affected our lives in an overwhelming way.  But how do you say that to somebody?  How do you tell someone that them losing their child changed the course of my family's lives forever.  Sometimes I feel guilty when I think about the impact that this child has had on our lives.  I know that I would give it up in a heartbeat if this family could have their baby back.  But life doesn't work that way.  God has this incredibly intricate plan for the world that we cannot fathom or understand.  Lives intersect for a reason, many reasons, and only he knows why.  I know this, but would still give her back to her family if I could.

The initial fundraiser that happened to raise money for the family happened at a local church.  One we had never been to before.  My husband performed for the children at the fundraiser and I, and some friends took our kids there to support it.  We had never been to this church before.  And we didn't go back, not for 7 months.

This is what happened.  My husband and I had been sporadically attending the Roman Catholic Church that we were married in.  We were both raised Roman Catholic, and that was all we knew.  But we both knew that it just wasn't working for us.  I still had a relatively strong faith, but my husband had been doubting and struggling for years.  We asked to meet with the priest once because we needed some help and guidance, and he didn't have time for us.  We didn't really know what to do.  We never felt like we were part of a community there. We never really wanted to go to church.  The times we went we just felt like we were spending an hour trying to keep the kids quiet, so what was the point? It was so frustrating, and we felt so empty.  And the more my depression took hold, the harder it was for me, and the emptier I felt.

Then one day, in November, out of the blue my husband suggested that we check out that church...you know the one that we went to for the Fundraiser.  I was doing way better with my depression at this point, but was still a little wary...not as much for myself but for him.  What if he didn't like it?

So we went the Sunday after Thanksgiving for the first time.  I went in nervous, they had nursery for little ones, but I had a kid with a severe food allergy, could I leave her there?  Would she be safe?  I felt completely at home within 15 minutes of entering the building, we were welcomed, brought to the nursery, our fears were addressed, we left the kids, went to the auditorium.  Our family has been attending the church ever since.

Over the next few months I watched my husband's life change dramatically and mine did too.  He found support, people to talk to, people to ask all of his questions to, and then quietly, without fanfare (because that is the way that he is) he came to Christ.  The prayers I had prayed from my heart for six long years were finally answered.  My husband came to know peace, the peace that comes from having a meaningful relationship with God.

Since then my family has flourished.  Many things that were once struggles started to work themselves out.  Both my husband and I have continued to grow in our faith.  We have found a loving church family with an amazing support system.  I joined the moms group there and both my husband and I have found ways to volunteer at the church doing things that we love.  We became official members of the church and were baptized together six months after we started attending.  Our kids love the church, and are already learning to know God and develop a relationship with him.  I am constantly taken aback by the heartfelt, spot on prayers that come from my five year old.  I love watching her grow with God.

So many areas of our lives have changed for the better since that day in February 2012.  My heart aches for anyone whose child has left this world too soon.  I know that pain, and I share it.  I am so sorry for your Mama and Daddy, sweet girl, and for all those that love you.  Thank you precious girl, for being such a bright, shining light in our lives.   You have been the brightest beacon on my Journey to the Light and because of that I will ALWAYS carry your light in my heart.

Why don't we talk about it?

It's funny the things that we think that we need to keep to ourselves.  I understand that there are times when something is too painful to speak of, I have definitely been there...but when the pain starts to ease a bit, why do we still keep it a secret?  Are we embarrassed?  Do we think that no one will understand?  Are we afraid that people will think we are weak?  The most important thing that I have learned from sharing my pain is that I am not alone in it, and great comfort comes from knowing that there are other people who really understand what I am feeling.   There is no greater hope for the future than knowing that someone else has been there and survived it.

Seven months before I got pregnant with my daughter, I had a miscarriage.  It was the single most devastating experience of my life.  For awhile I couldn't talk about it.  I was in a deep depression for several months.  I felt like I was in a trance.  I honestly don't know what I did on a day to day basis during that time of my life.  But I did survive it.  Sometimes I think that the only reason I did was because of my dear friend (and I hope she knows who she is).  I had just recently found out only weeks before my miscarriage that a good friend had had one too before she had her first child.  So when I was broken hearted and felt like no one understood at all, I reached out to her.  I remember her words to me so clearly.  She said "Don't worry Laura, by this time next year you will have a little baby or a big belly."  I held on to those words during the hardest days.  Now I am not repeating what she said to suggest that another child replaces that one who is lost.  I will always miss the baby that I lost and wonder what she would have been like, but my friends' words gave me hope for the future, that I would someday be able to be a mother to a child on this earth, like I had always dreamed of.

Some time after my loss, I started talking about it...and guess what?  I could not believe the number of women who came forward and shared stories of their own loss.  It seems that once someone talks about it, it makes it easier for others to come forth.  Ladies, we need to be an army of support for each other.  There is no reason to grieve alone, I promise you there is someone in your life who understands what you are going through and wants to help.

The same is true with PPD.  The more I talk about it the more women I find who have been through it, and some of them didn't even realize it at the time.  Talk about it ladies, find support for yourself and support other women.  Nothing makes someone feel more alone than depression.  You feel like you are doing everything wrong and that no one could possibly understand.  But people do understand.  I understand and so do countless other women.  Let's own it, talk about it, deal with it, grow from it, and become stronger because of it!

A dream realized.