Faith · Pregnancy Loss · TAC Process

beautiful mourning

We’ve returned from our trip safely! It was an amazing week of time together and writing our boys’ names everywhere we could and soaking up the sun. In the middle of this vacation, we were blessed with an amazing surprise, when my insurance got in touch to let me know they were approving & covering my TAC surgery. The moment I read that email and shared the news with Jason was just the second moment of pure, unadulterated hope since losing Omie 19 weeks ago.

So we’re off to Chicago in 9 short days to correct my cervix and pave the way for future children, God willing. I am a bundle of nerves, as this will be my first-ever surgery, but I find strength in knowing that this procedure will give me and my future babies the best chance of a happy ending. Chances are I won’t stop worrying until I’m out of the operating room, but that’s okay.

This morning, I was able to get to church and let me tell you, what a blessing today was. Towards the end of worship, one or more of our pastors always welcome people up to the altar (in our non-denominational church, that’s just the front of the room by the stage) to be prayed with & prayed over, should we need it. I’ve been too uncomfortable to do that up until today, but I just felt the weight of this week – both good and bad – weighing so heavily on me and I wanted, needed, to share that burden with my community and my God.

One of our sweet pastors, along with my adopted church mom, stood with me and prayed over me as I essentially broke down. I haven’t had many tears lately, finding this odd sense of normalcy in the midst of it all, but everything fell on me today. Omie’s due date, the one year anniversary of Noah’s passing, the joy and fear of my TAC surgery, all of it. Waterproof mascara wasn’t holding up today, y’all.

As someone still relatively new to church and still at the beginnings of my relationship with Jesus, I didn’t quite understand the beauty and power of people praying with me and for me. I’ve been praying tons, but having those two women stand with me, holding me up with their arms and their words, taking on some of this burden I carry, and speaking life into my deepest fears and desires, that I couldn’t myself articulate in my discussions with God, was so emotional and meaningful.

This moment reminded me of the wonder of community, of being free to share with others and with God. I try to give it all to Him, I really do, but of course I fall short. And in those moments, it is so helpful for me to have other people to share with, to confide in, to help me turn my eyes to Him and His promises. Bless up for the people in my life, old and new, that have and continue to walk this journey with me.

And I’ve found so much in my mourning. I’ve found God, I’ve found myself, I’ve found Jason, I’ve found an entire community ready & able to support me through it all. I’ve found a unique beauty in mourning. This isn’t to say that these findings somehow justify my sons’ deaths – nothing will ever be enough to justify or validate or explain away their loss. And I’ve realized there is no need to try; my sons mattered because they existed, even if for the briefest of moments. Their lives are meaningful and important, full stop – I don’t need to make or seek meaning. But I am nonetheless finding new things, new people, new truths in this process, and it is making this road just slightly more bearable.

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