Just before all of this happened, I had an appointment with my therapist. February and March always seem to be hard months for me. Every year I admit I'm struggling, but don't understand why. Lack of sunlight? Winter blues? Lack of exercise during the cold months? Maybe. But my counsellor was quick to remind me that April is just around the corner, and grief isn't an unusual response for me this time of year. Year after year it always feels a bit surprising. I'm not thinking of Brooklyn any more than usual, but my body is responding in a way that is anticipating the sadness to come. "The body remembers what the mind forgets" - Martha Manning.
The past month my emotions have been very up and down, as I'm sure many people can relate to. The uncertainty in this time leaves me feeling a lack of security. I'm such a planner. I like knowing what is around the corner and being prepared for it. That just isn't realistic these days, and so I've struggled with that at times. On the other hand, all of the forced time at home has made me slow down and appreciate things I was too busy to be noticing. Aubrey and Aveline have such a sweet friendship and I have seen that flourish in really cool ways this past month, even though it doesn't come without moments of arguing... Our 4th baby Sullivan was born September 2018 and he is 18 months old now, in a really fun stage of exploring and displaying his personality. Being our last, we have really been taking in all of the "lasts of the firsts" with him. Not rushing to be places all the time has made this stage especially sweet. Derek has been working from home in our basement office, and I've been able to help him plan youth programming in ways I'm normally unable to. We've had some great conversations and have been able to connect. Despite the lack of control and the chaos in the world around us, there have been some really big blessings during this time.
Right now it's 2:34pm on April 4th. When I think back 6 years ago, I had been in labour for over 12 hours with Brooklyn already. Things were picking up and getting more intense, and just 3 hours from now we would find out that our sweet girl had gone to be with the Lord. I would still labour and deliver her lifeless body, into a world that would feel even more broken than before.
I wrote a post on April 21 about the stages of grief. A friend just posted recently on how collectively, the whole world is grieving right now and it reminded me of these stages and how I've felt each one of them at some point this past month.
It's so true. We are all grieving right now. For some of us, it's the loss of baby showers, wedding celebrations, trips planned to see loved ones. For others is loss of employment, loss of loved ones and friends. For a lot of people it's losing their sense of self. Trying to understand who they are without their usual routines, social outings, workplaces etc. COVID-19 has taken a lot of things from so many of us.
When we're going through hard (read... very hard) times, it can be easy to think we are alone in our feelings and hardships. Right now, everyone is suffering a loss in some way, shape or form. It can be overwhelming, feel impossible to come through when there is no end in sight, It can also be easy to become self focused right now. Trust me, I'm there. While it's important to feel all the feelings and not push against them, I'd like to offer it's important to push against the grain, and be a light in these dark times.
We were so blessed in our time of greatest darkness to have others offering us light. This came in the form of meals (totally my love language...), time spent at our house with us, prayer, encouragement, people speaking Brooklyn's name when it felt like everyone was forgetting her. 6 years later and we still have people offering light to us on this weekend that feels dark and heavy. People texting us saying they're remembering her, cards being sent, etc.
While we're collectively grieving as a society, yes we need to take time to process, feel and care for our own families. And I agree it's not a time to overextend ourselves. But we also need to remember that these times are dark for everyone. If we're all caring for our own and not reaching out (from a distance), how will the world ever see light again?As we remember our sweet daughter who would be SIX this year, it comes with mixed emotions. I pray that her life and her loss continue to point people to Jesus, to help others going through similar loss and to push us to offer light to other people during hardship.
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