Being Okay with Not Being Okay

Jesus, be near.

My baby died. Through my husband and I, God made new life. But no sooner did we welcome that precious soul into the world than it was snatched from us. No sooner had the word “mother” left my lips than the child left my body, like water slips through our grasp.

I am a mother, but with an empty womb, empty arms, and an empty heart. Yet, I am full of a love that was never realized, never seen, never fulfilled. Full of a sorrow so heavy, sometimes I don’t know how to draw my next breath. My child never even drew one, so why should I get the gift of breath?

The week I was supposed to hear my baby’s heartbeat, the monitor fell silence. I was shut off from the rhythm I will never hear. I did not carry my baby long enough for their own heart to begin beating. In their coming, this baby stole my heart, and in their going they have taken it. My heart now beats to a rhythm of sorrow.

No sooner did my womb fill with love than it was emptied of life. My arms will never hold my baby, my lips never kiss their skin, my hands never caress them, my breasts never nourish their body. I’m left only with an aching emptiness. Where life was meant to grow, death bled out. The sun rises and sets as it has since time began. But the sun never rose on this sweet child that knew only darkness. Life returns to normal, but I will never be the same.

My child only ever knew the sweet embrace of Jesus. From the secret place where He worked within me, Jesus took my love into the dawn of His perfect presence. This child of love went from the warmth of my womb cocooning their unformed body to seeing the brightness of the face of Jesus. There, His presence makes my baby complete, whole, and restored, in a way that could never have been known on this earth, inside my body or out.

When I can’t take a breath, Jesus gives me His. His love for me is no different in this grief than it would be if my arms held my breathing child. He holds my baby with the same arms that hold me—me in brokenness and my child in utter wholeness. In the arms of Jesus, I am near to my child.

Jesus took up my sorrows. He understands my grief, anger, despair, and emptiness. The Father gave up His Son, so I could be held in the security of His embrace, so my baby could know nothing but life. He is completely ok with my not being ok. He holds me, loves me, and will never leave me. That’s why, even though I will never be okay, I know I always am.

So how do we, as grieving mamas, live in the strange reality that we are both devastated and filled with hope? How do we move on when our hearts are frozen in time, locked in the instant when our great treasure was stolen? The grief does not leave, but neither does Jesus. He stands beside us and carries us through every impossible moment.

When your husband returns to work and you feel that taking your next breath is more work than you can handle, Jesus will bring you through. When your girlfriends cannot hold you in your weeping because they are busy caring for the children you wish you had, Jesus cradles you against His heart. When life races past you and you cannot leave that awful moment, Jesus remains by your side. When the world returns to normal and you cannot remember what that word means, Jesus is your constant. When you fall asleep and wake to unrelenting darkness, Jesus is your light. When you want nothing more than to hold your beloved child, Jesus holds you in His everlasting arms. When the worst happens, when your greatest fears become reality, when your cherished one is lost from this life, when the bleeding of your heart threatens your demise, the presence of our slain and risen Savior sustains you.

His love carries us from our impossible today into the longed-for eternity. Isaiah 25 speaks of unrelenting trust in our Savior-God. Right now, the tears flow unabated down our faces, but one day our God will wipe them away with His nail-pierced hands. Today, death ravages our grief-stricken hearts, but Jesus, who tasted death, will swallow mortality for all time. Though right now, He may not answer our questions of why, we will one day say that this God we trusted did not disappoint us. Meanwhile, we wait. And trust the One who could never fail.

Dear grieving heart, your God will come for you.

Allie and her husband Michael said “I do” in 2015. She serves alongside him in the ministry of Fellowship of Christian Athletes in Colorado Springs. Allie works as a Certified Personal Trainer, group fitness instructor, and paints furniture on the side. When she’s not busy with those things, Allie loves a good book and tending her flower garden.

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