Writing

I am not a writer. I don't have beautiful and eloquent words. I wish I did. I wish I could express how my heart feels. I wish I could write and that it would make sense. But.. I can't. Yet, I still do it. I journal. I have always journaled. I get my words out that way. I get out my pain, my joy, my fear, my dreams all out on those pages. I say all of this because I have to get out more. My heart is full but it not full in the sense of joy. It is heavy. It is weighed down. I feel all I can do is lay down at the foot of my precious savior because it is too heavy to carry. Why? I am struggling with loss. I am struggling with the inability to help those who experience that loss. I struggle with my own loss that is still so fresh. I struggle with my calling to care for these precious women. See my heart is big. Matt would even say that I let it be too big. I feel. I hold onto the pains of others. I try to carry it. Is it a flaw? Maybe? BUT, isn't that how my creator created me? I have wanted to "save" the world from a young age. I wanted to serve those in need. I would cry when I say the little children on the commercials in between Bewitched and I Dream of Genie. SO, is this different?

As a care provider I am suppose to be able to separate myself from my client and what they are going through. I can do that in an emergent situation, I can take care of a hemorrhage, I can tackle a dystocia, I can help a baby breathe, I can do it. Then I mat lose a year of my life, but I can do it. But miscarriage. I can't. I can't remove myself. I feel the pain. I want to take it and make it not so. I want to stop it from happening. I don't want women to experience that loss. Then Jesus whispers to me. But, that is not his plan. I would be taking away from these women what he has for them. That doesn't make sense to me. I struggle. Yet... with my own loss I know it is when I grew the most. When I reached for him as my heart was tearing. How my anger brought out the parts of me I never wanted to see again. How my husband was my rock. And how the pain in a way became my friend. A friend that you don't want to see but won't go away. In that pain I see my God. It is not a joy, but it is a quiet moment that is only between us. It is the secret of my thoughts. It is the knowing that even in the anger, sadness, tears and pain He will never leave.

Now I sit here with my words, my inadequate words and I am on another side of dealing with pain but not my own. I have so many miscarriages in the last few months. People who I love, people I don't know well, my sister, and it hurts. It isn't fair. What is? SO, with this so fresh again, what do I do? One thing I do is I sit with my dog. Rapha. She is healing. Her name means healer for a reason. My dogs have always been a part of things in my life. Suka was my friend who got me through Alaska and not having babies. Titus walked so much pain with me and never left my side. And now my Rapha. There is something about them not talking but yet them knowing and just being. Maybe I can learn a lot from them.

I don't know if what I do truly matters but what I know I can do is be there. I can carry my heart and I can pray for these beautiful women. I can make phone calls, I can get ultrasounds, take blood, try for a heartbeat, and I can listen. I can hold them close to me and let each one imprint on my heart so that I never forget them. I can pray for their sweet babies and I can keep going. I can stop thinking I can't do it and keep moving forward. I don't doubt this is where I am suppose to be, I don't doubt that I am called to be with these special women and walk through the joy and the pain. I know my heart, it is big, it feels, it hurts, and it rejoices too. So, I will hold my babies a little tighter and I will tell my husband that I love him more often. I will spend more time in the presence of my savior and ask for wisdom and strength to go on. I was going to ask one of my mentors and long time midwives if it ever gets easier and then I stopped. I don't want it to get easier. I don't want to be numb and I don't want to take away from each of the experiences each woman goes through. I will feel it and I will let it make me stronger. I trust my God and I trust that I will make it through. There may be a lot of ugly crying and questioning and seeking his face, but I will do it. By the grace of God.