Monday, June 16, 2014

Milk, Anger and Rejoicing

My milk came in Saturday night. Let me say that again, my milk came in Saturday night. It felt like a cruel joke. When Harrison was first born, I had to work for hours to literally create a drop of milk and I was engorged Saturday night. With no baby and some intense rage, I approached this situation with irrational stomping, uncontrollable crying, and general insanity. In the moment that I thought I was starting to get a handle on everything, I was reminded that I have a handle on nothing. Nothing. I am in charge of nothing. Though my body thinks it is going through all the steps of post delivery, I have nothing. There is no baby. My body figured out how to make milk and there is no baby. 

Following this glorious Saturday night came Sunday, or Father's Day. An entire day dedicated to celebrating fatherhood. My husband is an amazing father, but Sunday was too early for that. The urge to curl up and  hide was large in the Lindemann household. However, we decided to go out to eat. I am not sure why, maybe just to pretend like we were  normal? Maybe to avoid being the "sad" people? Maybe because if we don't make ourselves leave we will never leave? Dinner was awkward. I have forgotten how to have a normal conversation. The world kept moving while ours stopped. We came home and cried. 

This crying was a bit different, less mournful and more life sucks and I am angry. This could be because life does suck and I am angry. But wait, what about that last post about faith and God's plan? What was that about? How can life suck? You found peace in Christ! The truth is, I did find peace, and I continue to find peace, but faith is choice and it isn't always easy. Anger is easy. Rage is easy. Bitterness and jealousy are easy. Faith is hard. It is the hardest thing  I have ever done. Faith is choosing to turn to God and say "I am angry and bitter, and why did you make my milk come in?" Faith is stopping the rant in your head and breathing. Faith is reaching out to your partner and realizing their pain is just as deep. Faith is stopping to list the things you are thankful for when you are struggling to find something to be thankful for. 

I have been angry from the moment I realized there was no "miracle" coming my way. From the moment I saw that my son had no brain, a part of me has been very angry. Why would God do this? The day that I sat by the river and raged at God, I truly raged at him. I yelled and cried out loud, and in the midst of the yelling and crying a song came into my head. "Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say rejoice." Why? Why was this stupid song in my head? This was not a time for rejoicing, it still isn't a time. I don't want to rejoice. However, the song came again and again and again. It kept coming until I was sitting by the edge of river signing this song again and again. 

It made me feel better. Why? Why would I feel better? Romans 5:3-4 says " Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope,". 
Rejoicing brings hope. I need hope. We need hope. Hope that this is going to get easier. Hope that our son's death wasn't an inconsequential thing. Hope that God's plan will prove to be the best. It is hard to have faith without hope, so therefore I find a way to rejoice. Rejoice in the Lord always, means always. I sing the song and suddenly I find something to actually be thankful for. Even it is just that someone brought me delicious white chocolate chunk cream cheese brownies. 

Saturday night my milk came in, and it felt like a cruel joke. I cried, I got angry, I was generally insane, and then I sat down and sang "Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say rejoice." I was once again the crazy lady. Last night, as I lay in bed and felt terrified about our slow return to "normal" life, and felt waves of anxiety at thought of two friends who love me dearly coming to stay with me-I didn't want them to think I was the "sad" friend, and I recognize the stupidity-I sang this song. I sang it until I fell asleep, and I felt hope. I will take all the hope I can get right now. 

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