learning through difficult times

"The Lord is faithful and holy and steadfast and sweet and my emptiness and sorrow I lay down at His feet. Though I may not ever understand I know His plan for me is right and our baby sleeps tenderly in heaven tonight."
One thing that I am afraid of is regrets because you cannot go back and change how things have been done. Through our difficult journey God provided people to lead and guide us along the way so that I do not have any regrets. According to the laws of Ontario when a baby dies at 20 weeks gestation it is law that the baby is buried and it is considered a stillborn death. (The terrible tragedy is that there are no laws to protect the living unborn baby). So the question is what do you do when your baby dies at 19 weeks?
We have a very dear former Pastor that sent us an email and I will always be thankful for his wise advice. He took the time to encourage us to name our baby, and to have a private funeral.
Our current Pastor, in the midst of a busy Christmas season, showed much tenderness and concern for us. Two days after Matthew was born we met our Pastor at the grave yard. He had thoughtfully printed out a funeral handout that had Matthew's name, his date of birth, and the date of the funeral. He wrote out fitting Scripture verses, the apostle's creed, and Psalter 278:1. "The tender love the Father has...." Whenever we sing that in church my mind goes back to that cold, snowy day in the graveyard holding onto Adam's hand and drinking in the comforting words of our Pastor.
Another provision and something that I will always be thankful for is at the hospital the nursing staff have disposable cameras to take pictures of your baby. They let us hold Matthew for as long as we wanted and then they took pictures of him. When we left the hospital they gave us the disposable camera for us to  develop whenever we were ready for it.
They also gave us a beautiful handpainted box for us to store our keepsakes in. That box is full of comforting cards from the lovely people in our church community. These cards meant a lot to me then and even now they provide much encouragement. The cards taught me how important the written note is. Even if you feel that you do not have the "gift of words" -send the card. It shows that you care and that you are thinking and praying for whoever is hurting. The gesture alone goes beyond the words. There were so many people that reached out with loving arms. Flowers, cards, meals, visits, and  phone calls were bright moments in our day. I will never forget my cousin who sat with me while Adam was finishing off things at work, my mom who came with arm loads of clothes and brought me to the doctors office, babysat, and encouraged us each step of the way. Friends of ours who have had two stillborn births offered much help.  One day the father called Adam just to see how he was doing and offered a listening ear. What he did was so important and beautiful. Adam was doing everything that he could to help me with my grieving mother's heart. People were reaching out to us but it took that special phone call from our friend. It was a father to father conversation that allowed Adam to tell of his hurts and sorrow to another man who has been in the same place. These were all helpful things and although I do not want to be negative I am going to write about what didn't help. One in every four pregnancies ends in a miscarriage so even if this has not happened to you it most likely has happened to a close friend or family member. No matter how far you have been in a pregnancy it is hard. It is not simply a miscarriage; it is your child. I have had the comment that  because of our miscarriage we now have Andrew. Very true but it sits wrong. We have had much joy and contentment in our Andrew but there will always be a hole there. Hearing that comment made me feel guilty because even though we love our Andrew I still have that hole and that comment underestimates the grief that we have experienced. Secondly, do not ignore or avoid the people who have experienced a miscarriage just because you feel awkward and do not know what to say. It is more awkward not saying anything and ignoring the fact that they are grieving. A small hug, or a slight touch on the arm mean a whole lot, even if some time has already passed. Look into their eyes and ask them how they are doing. It is then up to them to share what they would like. One writer has written, "I now see compassion isn't telling a mourning parent that 'At least you know you can have kids' or it was 'God's will' and 'you'll get over it.' Compassion involves acknowledging the right for a griever to grieve. It requires looking in on mourning parents, months or even years later. Compassion involves relaying your disappointment and sadness about the child and acknowledging how hard the loss must be for the parents."
I heard of the story of a ninety year old man who upon learning that one of his great-grandchildren was born stillborn, broke down and cried. He sorrowed with the parents but he also mourned the loss of his own still-born child decades earlier. In those days not a thing was said and you were very hush-hush about your struggles. There is something to be said about moving on and not dwelling on it, but we also should have time to grieve. It is also important that when you have gone or are going through a trial to reach out to others. If we didn't have people reaching out to us it would of been very lonely. We are instruments in God's hands and through us He provides for His children.
Isaiah 40:11 - "He will gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom, and gently lead those who are with young." What a gentle, loving Shepherd we have who carries our little ones close to His bosom."