His silence pierced the room.
Ten years ago today, Bruce, my mom, and I headed to the hospital. My belly swelled and looked as if I was about to pop at any moment. We sat in the waiting area of the labor department as they prepared my room. A grin beamed from the nurse as she said, “Such a wonderful day. You must be ecstatic?”
My eyes gave her a cold stare, and I immediately stated, “No, not really.”
Bruce nudged me and gently encouraged me to be kind. The woman was trying to be loving, but she didn’t know that delivering our son would not be a pleasant experience. She didn’t realize that this would be my second birthing experience, where I sobbed uncontrollably afterward.
But I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be nice. My heart was aching. I had prayed and pleaded with the Lord. But still, I did not see His healing hand. Instead, I was about to experience unfathomable pain that would rip my heart into pieces once again. I did not want to go through this intensity for a second time. My heart longed for a miracle.
But no miracle came. After 24 hours of labor, I gave birth to our 32-week-old son, Elisha. His jet-black hair was just like his dad’s. His tiny fingers and toes were perfect, and his button nose was so cute. My heart ached as I lovingly held his tiny frame in my arms; he was beautiful. Perfectly formed as God had created him in my womb. And yet he lay limp. No cooing. No squirming. No crying.
His silence pierced the room.
Elisha’s body lay there in my arms, but he was not present. His Spirit had left him a week prior, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. He would not play with his older brother or his sisters. He would never take his first step. He would never have his 10th birthday. He was gone.
As I write this, the reality of Elisha’s death still brings tears to my eyes. Even after 10 years, my heart aches for him. I wonder what he would have been like. Would he and Gryphin be best friends, or would they have gotten on each other's nerves? Would he have enjoyed sports, or would he be into music, or both? What dynamic would he have brought to our family?
Unanswered questions that I have had to give back to the Lord. Knowing this is one of those pains I will never understand until heaven. And I’ve had to stop asking why, and instead, I’ve had to sit at Jesus’ feet and let Him comfort me as I weep. I don’t understand the big picture, but I know He is a good Father with good things for me. So, even though it still pains my heart ten years later, I know I can trust my good Father.
If you have gone through similar pains, I want you to know that our sweet Savior will sit with you and weep. He will hold you if you let Him. And He will fill you with a deep sadness that will birth an indescribable, deep joy. A joy that only comes through suffering.
However, this is something that does take time. The severity of the pain is tremendous, but as we sit in our pain with Jesus, He mends our brokenness and makes beauty out of the ashes in His time. And His compassion overflows your heart as others go through similar experiences. Profound longing births within you to sit in their pain with them and to be Jesus’ arms as we cry together. No amount of words or encouragement will ever bring healing. But to sit and feel Jesus’ heartbeat as we weep. Now, that brings healing.
Today, as I remember our son, I also pray for the many who have lost their sweet baby boys and girls. May the God of all comfort genuinely bring you His comfort as you weep and process.
