Moments of Joy in Seasons of Pain
There are many ways that we grow and mature as we go through life. Recently, one area that I’ve noticed a big change in for myself has been how I respond to difficult situations. As with most of you reading this, I have experienced many tough times that have shaped my life for better or for worse. Historically, it has been very, very difficult for me to have joyful memories from inside these seasons of hurt or pain. I can have the best time one day and have all these happy moments to remember, but if something I perceive as negative happens after those moments, then suddenly my brain turns against me. Instead of remembering those cute, joyful moments, my brain puts all its resources and space into remembering everything surrounding the negative moment. From the people, to the words, to how I felt at each moment, to how they reacted to my reaction and so on and so forth. My brain decides, “Well, this pain is obviously a MUCH more important thing to remember. However, we are running low on space. How shall we fix this? OHH! Let’s dump all these happy memories she just made, and let’s focus everything we’ve got on this moment right here.” This has been the way my brain has functioned for as long as I can remember, and it has taken years and years of self-reflection and almost 2 years of marriage counseling for me to be able to not only recognize that I do this, but also start to change it. That brings me to this picture here.
For most people, you take a look at this picture and you can’t help but smile. Three sweet friends, all expecting, and all clearly very excited about it. But I look at this picture and am struck by something else…the fact that it exists at all. Let me explain.
This picture was taken by a friend about 3 months ago at my sister in law’s baby sprinkle, and the two of us on either side had found out the week before that we were both expecting. No one else at the party knew, but between the three of us and the friend who took this picture, there were many little moments of quiet excitement and planning and picking with each other about possible twins. Once everyone else left, one of the husbands stood guard at the door to keep our kids out while we snapped this quick, playful picture of us cradling our very bloated 6/7 week bellies alongside Katie’s 7.5 month belly. It was a day of sweet memories that were shared between us, and I treasure it beyond belief. Especially since we won’t be able to repeat the picture later in our pregnancies together. You see, like I said, its been 3 months and one of us now cradles her sweet baby, one of us traded cradling her bloat belly for cradling her baby belly and is absolutely glowing, and one of us has been left empty handed. I, there on the right hand side, have been left empty handed.
Let me give you a little background on myself. I am a momma of 4 beautiful kids, And during pregnancy I am sick. Like s-i-c-k sick. The entire time. And I start contracting about 3 months early...and almost all of them have tried to make early appearances. So I have been quite adamant since our last little one almost 5 years ago that I was DONE, and that the terrible sickness I endure each time is the reason. But the weekend after my husband's emergency appendectomy...here I was. Late with a positive pregnancy test I had dug out of my cabinet. One 9pm run to Walgreens and 3 different kinds of tests later and my husband and I were whispering in the bathroom as we stared at the clearly positive tests. He had much more excitement than I did initially, and I had to lean into that quite a bit the first couple days. You see we have 4 beautiful kids, but I have been pregnant 7 total times before this. And this fact, and the memories of my loses, were honestly the greatest deterrent from wanting to be pregnant again, not how sick I was. Because what if it’s a loss again. What if instead of a baby, all I get is pain. We have had a loss between all our of kids, and each of those three loses greatly affected me in their own ways. They all have their own stories that maybe one day I will tell, but I can tell you what I learned from each one.
The first one robbed me of my innocent, naïve thinking that if the test was positive once, then I was pregnant and could start getting excited. After this loss, I had to test over and over to believe that I was actually pregnant. Then it convinced me that it was too painful to tell others when I was pregnant early on, in case I had to turn around and tell them that it was over. It lead to so much isolation later on.
The second one taught me that some ER doctors have lost all compassion for their patients, and I experienced the dreaded “woman, you started your cycle and are having cramps. Just go home and rest. Why are you here?” conversation that I’ve learned is all too common. After follow up with my OB the next day the ultrasounds confirmed that I had, in fact, been pregnant and lost my little one.
The third loss hit me hardest, as I was in a place where I did NOT want to be pregnant when I found out. And it took me all day to warm up to the idea, but by that night I was getting quite excited. However, the next day it was all over…again. I carried so much guilt for so long over that loss, sad that I lost that time of excitement and joy and instead it was filled with fear and anger. It taught me to love and appreciate each positive I got, even if just for a short while. It also taught me that it’s okay to get help afterwards and that sometimes you need the help of some medicine to get you through your recovery and healing and grief.
One thing that all of these losses had in common was how I reacted afterwards. It was just so painful to still see positive tests laying around the house, or on my phone. Too painful to see the screenshots I took of calculated due dates and of how tiny the baby would be that early on. Too painful to look at the pictures taken from those days I knew I was pregnant, seeing how bloated I was in some, or being reminded what outfit I was in for others. So to save myself this pain, I deleted EVERYTHING. More than once I even donated some of my clothes just to further remove myself from this pain. And while this may have helped me temporarily, I later regretted it.
Before this picture and this pregnancy, God had been taking me on a journey of healing. I was slowly learning to appreciate the small, joyful memories that were surrounded by pain, instead of just throwing it all out in hopes of making the pain stop and not return. I was learning how to actually heal verses packing it all away only to be thought of when up alone at night. And because I allowed God to lead me on this journey and I put in the work towards healing and figuring out how to better respond to hard situations, my reaction to this most recent loss was much different.
That’s not to say that I had this all figured out. Far from it! Even before we knew for sure what the outcome would be, I was tempted again. Tempted to shut down completely and shut everyone out. Tempted to delete it all and forget it ever happened. Tempted to just go on with life as if things were fine instead of letting myself have some time to worry, pray, scream out to God in prayer and desperation. But I’ve grown, I’ve changed...well God’s changed me. I know that that is not a healthy way to cope and that it would only lead to further pain down the road. I remembered how sad I still am that I have no record of my past pregnancy losses, other than a couple journal entries, a memorial ornament on my Christmas tree, and doctors records. I knew I had to seek better ways to cope in order to properly process, grieve, and eventually heal. So I made the very conscious decisions to pray, to feel the emotions not just by myself but with others, and to not shut down and just pretend like it was all okay.
I knew that I could not go through this alone. I am surrounded by a community of woman that I knew would celebrate with me for the good news, and pray for me and my anxiety over the fear of bad news. They would understand my very hesitant excitement, and my need for space to process and just sit with this new news. And if things took a turn for the worse, I knew they would walk along side me in that too. So rather than just my husband and sister-in-law knowing I was pregnant early on, there was actually about 10 other people who knew. And this wound up being so very important. Because after 1.5 weeks of joy, there was 1.5 weeks of fear, uncertainty, despair, pain. And at the end of those combined 3 weeks, we learned that the pregnancy was a non-viable ectopic that was over before it ever got started.
The pain and despair I felt in this time was all-consuming. But that group of women kept me going. One watched my kids multiple times for me to go get labs and ultrasounds. Telling me to take my time and don’t hurry back. One had a little care snack bag for me at school one Monday to give me some comfort amist all the uncertainty. One was a steady presence, ready to be whatever I needed when I would finally let me guard down and admit I needed something. One was an ear I knew I had at any time, that would understand what I was feeling, and how deeply I was feeling, but that also knew that this was just a small season and that I would be able to make it through this. That things WOULD get better eventually. I will never be able to thank my ladies enough for how they loved me through this time.
My intentional praying was also different from the last times. Instead of withdrawing from God in hurt and confusion, I brought it all to Him. Sometimes these were quiet, whispered prayers. Sometimes they were rage filled screams of fear and desperation that Holy Spirit was going to have to interpret because I just had nothing left. I was by myself for all 3 ultrasounds I had while they were figuring out what was going on, so I turned on my voice recorder so that I could go back and listen if they said something important. (I knew I was so very overwhelmed and emotionally flooded that I would forget things. ) While I waited for the tech to come in, I prayed out loud. I knew that no matter what the scans showed, I would one day be able to go back and listen to those prayers. I knew that this time, I was not going to delete them.
I chose to not drive straight home after my scans and appointments, where I would have to put on a mask for my kids while we waited to confirm everything. Instead I took my friend up on her offer and took my time coming home. If you know me in real life, you probably know that I don’t share difficult emotions very easily. It is a very rare instance for me to cry in front of anyone, including my SIL who is my person. But on those days, I sat in the parking lot with my comfort food and just sobbed for almost an hour each time. Letting myself feel all the emotions from cautiously hopeful for a miracle in the beginning to acceptance and anger and despair at the end. That Friday that we found out that there was no growth and it was ectopic, I cried in front of more people than I ever thought possible. I allowed myself, for once, to just feel the pain I was feeling in the moment and not try to hide it from the world. So the OBGYN, her nurse, the lab techs, the hospital receptionist, the 2 nurses who were with me when I had the shot, and the sweet volunteer who interacted with me that day all saw me sob.
What I learned from this loss is there is so much freedom in being vulnerable. Because I let myself feel all the feelings out in the open, I was blessed in so many small ways. Those people I wept in front of that day offered tissues when needed, and a shoulder to cry on when tissues weren’t enough. They gave me space when I said I just wanted to be alone for a while, but reminded me that they were just a call away as soon as my needs changed. My friends knew that I was struggling, so knew to pray for me. My other sweet sister in law watched my kids that terrible day and she showed up with treats for both me and the kids before I left. She checked in on me when I wasn’t communicating well later on, continuing to let me know she was praying over me and was there. A church friend I finally opened up to about it all checked in on me, prayed for me. This openness with others allowed me to find little movements of joy that I could hold on to. And cling to them I did!
It took me two and a half months to be able to think about this picture again. And at first I was sad, because in my mind I ruined this sweet picture for the other two. I wished that I wasn’t in it so that I didn’t taint the memory of this moment and it made me feel so guilty. And I sat with that and felt that way for a while before God saw that I was ready to be changed. And He showed me that I had no reason to be guilty. Instead, I had reason for joy. Even though it was just a short time that I was able to embrace the pregnancy, it brought great growth and joy in myself and those around me. I made many sweet memories that I chose to keep alive and preserved this time, instead of letting my pain overshadow everything and make decisions for me.
This picture was never sent to my phone when we took it, and if old Ashley had had her way, I would have never seen it again. I would have chosen to forget this day had happened, and I would probably never have worn that dress again. But thank God I am not who I was. Thank God I have been changing and growing. Because now, I can see the little moments of joy for what they are and can treasure them. I can think about this picture and instead of feeling only despair and guilt, I can actively seek out the owner and ask for it to be sent to me. Now I can move forward and make new memories in that dress instead of giving it away, because I love it so much. Now I can appreciate how much God takes care of me, in both big and small ways, even during times where I don’t understand why I have to endure the things I do.
I pray that you, too, can one day find the joyful moments in those tough seasons. That your brain allows you to feel the hurt and pain, but doesn’t allow it to overshadow everything else in your life. I pray that you know that God wants to be there for you through it all, and that He will carry you when you think you can’t even crawl anymore. Most of all, I pray that you continue to seek out God in all things, and that you steadily grow as you follow His directions.
You are eternally loved, sweet ladies.
