Four Years Later: Joy Comes In The Morning
It can often seem as though you will always be drowning beneath the acute pain of loss. However, while our grief never truly ends, it doesn’t always look and feel the same way. In this series, our writers speak from where they are now in their grief, _________ years later. Throughout this series, you will find testimonies of how grief changes us, and how God uses our heartache to shape us into a greater reflection of His image.
Four years out from losing Baby P, I can finally look back without bitterness. I have seen growth sprout from the deepest, darkest cave. I can thank God for how the experience of loss has brought me closer to the people I love and to the God who so deeply loves me. These things took time to manifest in my life, but I am so thankful that God is powerful enough to take the worst part of my life and give it meaning.
Immediately following my 18.5 week loss of Baby P, I was full of raw emotion. I felt the loss deeply, but I also felt the outpouring of love deeply. But as the weeks went on and the “why’s” set in, any hopeful mindset I previously had was gone. I would spend hours in the middle of the night researching my baby’s condition. I couldn’t sleep. I had panic attacks. I cried in the middle of church service. I was in the middle of my lament. And then I got pregnant again.
I cried when I found out because I was full of fear, and just when I found a speck of joy in pregnancy I lost that baby too. I remember thinking after these losses, “At least I’ll probably gain some insight and be able to write a nice blog post in a year.” Boy was I wrong. A year later, I still had nothing nice to say. Healing takes time, maybe longer than you’d like, but that is okay. It’s not fun to hurt and grieve, but it is a natural and necessary response to loss. It’s a messy place to be, but God is there with you, just like He was with Joseph in prison, Daniel in the Lion’s den, and Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fire.
In the years following my loss, I learned to be still and know that God is God (Psalm 46:10). I had always applied this message to the busy-ness of life, but after my losses I learned I needed to apply it to my restless mind as well. My mind, that was constantly full of questions I could never know the answers to, needed to be still and know that God is God. He holds all of the answers; that’s His job, not mine. My job is to trust Him, stop my striving, and let Him work. No amount of me knowing anything would help my situation. But God, being the miracle worker He is, grew life and love from a place where no one else could.
“O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me. O Lord, you have brought up my soul from Sheol; you restored me to life from among those who go down to the pit.” Psalm 30:2-3
I learned the value of authentic community. I didn’t have a huge community of friends around me when I lost my babies; we weren’t members of a local church yet, and most of my friends were in different life stages in different parts of the country. There may have even been efforts from friends that I walled myself off from for fear of being seen in the sad state I was in.
I had my husband and my mom, who I could be totally transparent with, and I thank God I had them. They muscled me through my pregnancy with my living son while we were all still grieving. They may have deferred some of their own grief in order to help me through mine. If we were to be in the same situation again, I would want a circle of people to support all of us, because it wasn’t just me who needed to heal. Seek out community. Be that community to someone else. We aren’t meant to walk this road alone.
“Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” Psalm 30:5
I learned that joy does come in the morning. However long and dark the night, morning does indeed come. Baby P was born at 4:15am, and I remember wanting to stay awake to see the sunrise. I had never thought about that moment having much significance until now.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.“ John 1:5
We had just endured one of the darkest nights in our lives, but sure enough, golden sunlight and warmth filled that hospital room in the morning. After my son’s birth, joy was elusive to me. It was a season of sadness and darkness, but I will tell you that my morning came eventually, and my life filled with sunshine again.
That may look different for different people. It may take less or more time for each individual, and ultimately be fulfilled in heaven, but as sure as the sun rises every day, joy is coming. In the middle of your darkest night, keep looking expectantly towards the sunrise, because our God is faithful to fulfill His promises.
“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent. O lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!” Psalm 30:11-12
- Sarah Padilla
Hope Mom to Baby P and One Precious Babe
Sarah Padilla is a mom, wife, and dance teacher from Magnolia, Texas. She’s been married to her high school sweetheart, Kyle, for nearly eight years. They have a two-year-old son named Kirk and two babes in heaven.
We would be honored to share your story as a Hope Mom on our blog. On Saturdays we feature Hope Moms’ stories in order to showcase God’s faithfulness even in the midst of such deep sorrow. If you would like to have your story shared on our blog for this purpose, learn more and submit here.
Got something to say?