Stella's Story: Part 1

Here is the beginning of Stella's Story: Stella's Story: Part 1
The rest is coming soon!

Life Magnified

Experiencing one extreme makes the other extreme equally as intense for me.  Holding death in my hands has helped me see life so precious, so beautiful.  I can't voice or even describe how incredible it is to hold a healthy, perfect baby. I don't even know how to express in person how overwhelemed I am because I've been given this wonderful gift.  I feel like a first-time mom again.  I only wish that more of my friends were just as excited as I am.  It's so important to me that those who are close to me rejoice over the birth of my son just as much as they sympathized (or at least tried to sympathize) with me after Stella died.

Of course, I can't expect others to feel the same way, although sometimes it would be nice to have cupid-like powers.  :)  But, I've honestly been kind of surprised at how few of my friends, even close ones, have celebrated Finn's birth with me.  I'm sure it's routine for them - a the birth of a baby, but it's not for me.  There was no ignorant bliss associated with carrying and birthing a new life for me.  There's only the painful understanding that there is no taking life for granted.  Ever. 

I don't know if all baby loss moms feel the same way, but I know many who do.  It is so, so important to them (and to me) to acknowledge both the baby who was lost and to celebrate the baby who is here now. 

Is it too much to ask for friends to take just a little bit of time out of their busy lives to celebrate with me, or at least to say congratulations?  I know people are busy with their own lives - with health issues, adoption journeys, their own children..etc, but it is so hard to take a few moments to just "be there?"

I feel this joy of my new son and the pain of being separated from my daughter equally with a migraine-like intensity.  It's as if my head is pounding and every tiny sound is amplified as I'm laying there, exhausted. Except that it's not my heading pounding; it's my heart pounding.  The neverending migraine.
Life.  Magnified.  The joys and sorrows of life are now intensified to me.

I wonder if this is the way we're supposed to experience life.  Jesus felt deeply, loved fully, grieved with his entire being.  And since Jesus is God personified, doesn't God feel even more deeply than I do?  The pain I feel so intensely because of the death of my daughter isn't even 1/1000th of what the Father felt when His son suffered on the cross. The joy that I feel over the birth of my new son isn't even 1/1000th of what the Father felt when His people were redeemed. 

I am realizing that I dehumanize God in ways I shouldn't.  I have tended to think of God as distant, unfeeling, like a stoic ruler who sits on His throne calmly making decisions about the universe He created.  Now, I don't think that's what God is like at all.  In my grief, at times I think I understand God less and less, but I may finally be starting to understand Him more.  He is the only One who has fully felt what it's like to watch His Own Flesh and Blood suffer and die.  If this is true, why can't I feel closer to him than I do?

"Your Love, oh Lord, reaches to the Heavens, and your Faithfulness, oh Lord, reaches to the skies."
Psalm 36:5.  That's a heck of a lot of love...more than I can even fathom. 

Life is now magnified for me, but God's character, even more so.  If I feel deeply, He feels deeper.  If I grieve with every fiber of my being, He has experienced greater grief than I can even imagine.  And, I really can't imagine much more emotional pain than I've felt.  What does that say about God and His the sacrifice of His son? 


Snobound said...

Jen, I deeply rejoice with you in the birth of wee Finn, and I completely understand how absolutely grateful you are for his life. I love reading your story and how you're being healed through him and through HIM. As heartless as it may feel to you, there are some of us who can only bring ourselves to rejoice with you silently. For us the loss of a child or the dream of children is forever a horror story. Some days there is just no seeing past that, even when we know we should rejoice with our friends. Many days the reminder that you have a dream realized is just too painful, too bitter, too surreal. We (I) often think, "why her and not me? What did I do to deserve these empty arms for life?" Its not that I begrudge you happiness and fulfillment, its just I can never partake of that happiness. I am sorry that so many of your close friends seem to have abandoned you in your bliss. Please know that even when I'm silent I'm watching and ever so happy for you and Mike and the boys. You have a beautiful family and you are and will continue to be a blessing to so many others who have experienced the loss of a child. Thank you for taking time to share your heart on here. You mean so much to so many.

Stacy said...

I've had the opposite happen...I am so afraid that people will forget Rachel -or that they are happy to have another topic - that I've been keeping Asa all to myself. I know exactly what you mean about the joy over a live baby being hard to explain. It's as if I've always taken life for granted without knowing it. I'm so thankful for you, Stella and Finn ♥ And I'm totally rejoicing with you over your precious son.

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About This Blog

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This is the story of our daughter, Stella Rose, who went to be with Jesus after five days here on this earth. Stella was born with multiple birth defects due to a severe case of Wolf Hirschhorn Syndrome. Although Stella is no longer with us in person, she has changed us forever. Stella's legacy is my journey on a new road without my daughter, and how God is working in our hearts.

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