Sufficient Grace

Almost one year and the pain remains...

Last September, I remember leaving the hospital after being there for six days and the neurologist said, "I will guess and say the pain may last for 6-8 weeks, but to be honest, I have never seen or heard of a case like yours, so I really have no idea how long it will take to heal." (hmmmm....that sounds as comforting now as it did then)!

For those of you that haven't been following my blog since the beginning or cannot remember what happened...here are the cliff notes. When I was delivering Dillon, the anesthesiologist punctured the dura of my spine while trying to insert an epidural, which caused a spinal fluid leak. He called in a second anesthesiologist who ended up setting the epidural, which didn't really work anyway. This puncture rarely happens, but, when something goes wrong with the epidural, it is not considered uncommon. Here is where it gets strange... I had two blood patches to fix the leak. During the first one, the anesthesiologist actually punctured the dura of my spine again and incorrectly injected the blood into my CSF (Cerebral Spinal Fluid). We didn't discover this issue until a week and a half after I delivered Dillon. I had a debilitating headache that landed me in the hospital for six days and, after multiple tests and various medications, an MRI showed a mass (blood) in my spine. After it was all said and done, I had been stuck with a needle in my epidural space five times, could barely move my back without intense pain, and was diagnosed with post-postpartum preeclampsia and a UTI. I was determined to find another case like mine. I researched online, talked to doctors, and even went to see one of the top neurologists at Duke University. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell me much more than my previous neurologist, but did prescribe a medication that provided some, albeit temporary, relief. He also gave me a name for the pain in my head: primary thunderclap headache, which is characterized by the intense, sudden shooting pain that begins in a particular area, like a clap of thunder.

In the beginning, right after the epidural injury, I had an ongoing headache for 18 weeks. I could barely move and cried from back pain when attempting to do the simplest tasks. I couldn't lift my children and even struggled to bend over to change my daughter's diaper. It was then I understood what people with chronic pain felt like...it just becomes a part of your everyday...you deal with it because you have no other choice. On top of the emotional pain from losing Dillon, I struggled with the physical pain and the lack of answers. I found myself not only grieving my son, but the loss of my own health as well. At one point, it was suggested by a doctor that my grief and pain were connected and that it would only take time for my body and mind to heal. But where did that leave me? To endure this suffering for an unknown amount of time, until my brain decides enough is enough?

I continued searching...looking for answers. I tried a variety of medications, essential oils, physical therapy, dry needling, therapeutic yoga, himalayan salt lamps, and changing parts of my diet, but every time only received a temporary fix.

After the first of the year, I felt the Lord was trying to tell me something through all of these unanswered questions....My grace is sufficient. To be honest, I thought, “Okay, I like that verse (2 Corinthians 12:9), but what does that supposed to mean for me? What does that look like in real life?”

As I began diving into the concept of grace, I found my mindset shifting. In "Be Still My Soul, Embracing God's Purpose & Provision in Suffering," (a book by Nancy Guthrie that includes 25 classic & contemporary readings on the problem of pain), J.I. Packer says this about hoped-for healing:

(For reference, here is the scripture he is discussing) 

So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that is should leave me. But he said to me, 

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 12: 7-10 

It was not for want of prayer that Paul's thorn went unhealed. He explained to the Corinthians what Christ's response was as he prayed about it. "He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness'" (v.9). It was as if the Savior was saying "I can demonstrate my power better by not eliminating your problem. It is better for you, Paul, and for my glory in your life, that I show my strength by keeping you going though the thorn remains."  

Packer goes onto say that God uses chronic pain and weakness, along with other afflictions, as his chisel for sculpting our lives. Felt weakness deepens dependence on Christ for strength each day. The weaker we feel, the harder we lean. And the harder we lean, the stronger we grow spiritually, even while our bodies waste away. To live with your "thorn" uncomplainingly, sweet, patient, and free in the heart to love and help others, even though every day you feel weak, is true sanctification. It is true healing for the spirit. It is a supreme victory of grace. The healing of your sinful person thus goes forward even though the healing of your mortal body does not. And the healing of persons is the name of the game so far as God is concerned.  

Another conclusion that Packer makes is concerning our behavior when we are ill. Maybe we shall receive healing in the form in which Paul asked for it. Maybe, however, we shall receive it in the form in which Paul received it. We have to be open to both. 

As I read this for the first time, I thought....does that mean these migraines and back pain will never go away? And I definitely don't feel as though I have always been "uncomplaining, sweet, patient and free in the heart to love and help others." But then I considered....maybe I don't need to have all of the answers; maybe I don’t need to find another case such as mine; maybe the purpose of this pain is to teach me about grace so that I will learn that my God is enough, even if healing never comes. It was then that I felt like some of the bricks were lifted; I could give this to God and let the outcome be what He wills.

Around the six month mark, I decided to come off of some of my medication because I didn't like the potential side effects and began to see a holistic doctor. The Lord brought some healing and relief in a very unexpected way and for that I am eternally grateful. After 10 months, my back pain lifted and I was able to work out again, and after months of therapeutic yoga, physical therapy and dry needling, I regained my yoga practice. Finally, the frequency of my migraines reduced to several times a day, then daily, then every few days, and eventually I started going weeks between headaches and even had a one-month span around month 11 where I was headache-free. It was at this point, I thought, maybe they are gone! But, then I experienced a massive migraine followed by an additional five headaches in 14 days. I still have no explanation why some days I get migraines and other days I do not, but I am thankful everyday I make it without taking medicine.

So, here we are, almost one year into this journey through grief and pain. If someone had told me last September that I would still be battling this physical pain one year later, I would have collapsed in defeat; however, the Lord has provided sufficient grace to get through each day. With that said, I recognize that resting in the sufficiency of God’s grace sounds like a stereotypical Sunday morning catch-phrase, but, through this experience, God has shown me that it is true; that is enough; and, quite frankly, that it is a struggle to believe and apply. I find the need to preach this truth to myself daily; to remind myself that He is enough and that in Him alone will I find rest. It is my prayer that this post reaches someone struggling to find purpose in their own pain.

Click here to hear a song that keeps me going through uncertainty...

Plumb, Need You Now

Well, everybody's got a story to tell
And everybody's got a wound to be healed
I want to believe there's beauty here
'Cause oh, I get so tired of holding on
I can't let go, I can't move on
I want to believe there's meaning here

How many times have you heard me cry out
"God please take this"?
How many times have you given me strength to
Just keep breathing?
Oh I need you
God, I need you now.

Standing on a road I didn't plan
Wondering how I got to where I am
I'm trying to hear that still small voice
I'm trying to hear above the noise

How many times have you heard me cry out
God please take this?
How many times have you given me strength to
Just keep breathing?
Oh I need you
God, I need you now.

Though I walk,
Though I walk through the shadows
And I, I am so afraid
Please stay, please stay right beside me
With every single step I take

How many times have you heard me cry out?
And how many times have you given me strength?

How many times have you heard me cry out
"God please take this"?

How many times have you given me strength to
Just keep breathing?

Oh I need you
God, I need you now.

I need you now
Oh I need you
God, I need you now.
I need you now
I need you now

Be Still, My Soul: Embracing God's Purpose and Provision in Suffering Copyright 2010, by Nancy Guthrie, published by Crossway Books

Excerpted from God's Plans for You copyright 2001, by J.I. Packer, published by Crossway Books

Songwriters: Christina Wells / Luke Sheets / Tiffany Lee
Need You Now lyrics © DO Write Music LLC, Mike Curb Music

Who am I?

Almost 5 months have come and gone since I last wrote. Why? I can make excuses and say I was planning Dillon's Celebration of Life, my head was hurting, I was feeling sorry for myself, and we were moving (again); I could say my computer was boxed up, I was unpacking, or I didn't have an internet connection. All of these things would be true, but the actual answer is because I cannot think of anything worth saying. Or, maybe more accurately, I cannot think of anything I feel is worthy of hearing. Well meaning people have told me, "you just need to move on," or "you need to stop wallowing in grief, there are people going through much worse." And then I question myself. How can I still be grieving a child I never knew? I think about going quiet.....about keeping this pain inside.............................................................................and then I decide, No, I will NOT be silent. People have the choice to read my words, or not, but I will write them nonetheless. If not for others, then for myself, for Dillon, and mostly so that somehow Christ will be glorified in the beauty from my ashes.

The fact is, I am struggling with grief and with depression. I am also struggling with the fact that I am struggling. Something inside me says, "it has been 10 months, by now you should be able to handle this on your own, or, if not, your faith should carry you through." I am a Christian, why am I so sad? I know Dillon is in Heaven. But, in this moment, Heaven feels 1/2 a lifetime away. Physically, I am feeling the best I have in 10 months. I am so thankful to say I’ve only had one migraine in the last four weeks. Yet, grief remains. It comes in waves. God has brought me through some very dark places and I have also had moments of profound beauty when I think I am ready for life; but, right now is a particularly dark time. I have come far enough in my grief journey to recognize the darkness. I don't want to stay here...in this place where hope seems unattainable, like a boat in the distance that I keep swimming to but can never actually reach. I slip beneath the surface of the water, gasping for breath until I cry out, "God help me." What is wrong with me? Why don't I have energy, motivation, passion, desire? Why can’t I get our house unpacked? Why am I yelling at my children? Why is my house a mess? Why do I not get enough sleep? Why do I want to sleep all of the time? In truth, though, I know the answer...this is depression.

I stare in the mirror for a long moment, taking in every detail and ask, "who am I?" The woman that stares back at me is both familiar and strangely distant. How can this be? On the outside, I am still the same person I was over a year ago...the same, yet different. My hair has more gray, my body less toned, my smile seems forced and my eyes hold a deep sadness. Grief has touched every part of me...body and soul...nothing has gone unchanged. I wonder what I look like to others. Do they see me or the mask? Can they even notice these subtle changes that stare me in the face? Do my eyes really show the deep hurt, pain, and even defeat that I feel? Or, do they hide what lies within? Am I able to cover with make-up and hair color what the last year has done to me? This year that I feel has aged me 10 years or more. I have been drained from dealing with anticipatory grief, and then emotional and physical pain on top of loss. These weigh on my life like a load of bricks and at times I feel lost. What is the point of all of this?

I have found that I measure time in "before" I lost Dillon and "after." A few weeks ago, I was scrolling through pictures on my computer of "before" and I noticed how happy I was. My joy seemed to radiate off of the screen; but, more than that, I remember feeling happy in these photos. “When was the last time I smiled?,” I think to myself. I mean, truly smiled…not just a smile-because-I-am-supposed-to-be-smiling smile. I honestly cannot remember. This makes me sad. It breaks my heart for my children, for Chris, for me. All of my life, people have commented on how I always seem to have a smile on my face, even when I am in pain. But where is that smile now?

Again...."who am I?"

When I was younger, I may have answered many things...student, athlete, pole vaulter, sister, daughter, friend....then perhaps a Marine wife, HR manager, yogi. Seven years ago, I became a mother to children I couldn't hold, children I lost to miscarriage. Then, finally, a mother to children on earth.

But who am I now? A mother whose baby died? Is this why people hesitate to tell me they are pregnant? Am I the sad person? Do my children see a gracious, loving person or an angry, tired mom?

There are hopes and dreams I once had for my life, ideas about who I wanted to be; but, it seems very little has worked out the way I imagined. I suffocate in my thoughts. As I attempt to pull myself from the pit of darkness, my grip slips...I lose my foothold over and over. The ground moves and shifts under me...constant change. Will it settle? Will I escape this? Or is this my "new normal?"

I miss 'that girl'...the one I used to be. The one that smiles a lot, is active, adventurous and fun. The only thing I like about this new girl is that she is Dillon's Mom. If she didn't exist, that means I

wouldn't have known my boy. This depression is more than just the loss of Dillon…I am grieving a part of myself that is gone. Will "she" ever come back? I miss regular life. This new "normal" leaves me desperately sad, angry even, that I cannot distract myself and frustrated that the simplest tasks take so much effort. Relationships have become more difficult...friendships lost. I grieve the loss of so much I once held dear.  Again I cry out in nothing more than a whisper, "God help me."

So, I ask another time, "who am I?"

Deep in my heart, I find the answer...I am HIS. I belong to Christ Jesus, my King; the only thing that remains unchanged. I will survive this darkness because I am His and He is mine.  I will cling to Him in this darkness because He is the light. I write this lament so that others will know that I too struggle...we are not alone in our suffering. I began this blog to be transparent in this journey. I say this "journey" because it did not end when Dillon's heart stopped. So many blogs I found when researching Trisomy 18 ended when the child died. But, there is so much more of the story. I continue writing to share my heart, even if that is through suffering, even if it makes others uncomfortable. I find solace that Jesus himself experienced great sorrow in the garden of Gethsemane. Matthew 26:36-38 describes his soul being filled with sorrow until the point of death. We are not alone...our Savior knows deep pain...far deeper than I could ever fathom.

Recently,  I was introduced to an ancient Japanese philosophy called Wabi Sabi, which finds beauty in imperfection. A type of pottery has derived from this philosophy, called kintsugi or kintsukuroi pottery. As you can see, these pieces are more beautiful than before they were broken. This reminds me of what God can do with my brokenness and I pray that he is making my life more beautiful because of the storms I am walking through.

                  




If you have read any of my blog posts, you know I relate to music and usually have a song that speaks to my heart. You can listen to "Who am I" by Casting Crowns by clicking here.

Who am I, that the Lord of all the earth
Would care to know my name
Would care to feel my hurt?
Who am I, that the bright and morning star
Would choose to light the way
For my ever wandering heart?


Not because of who I am
But because of what you've done
Not because of what I've done
But because of who you are


I am a flower quickly fading
Here today and gone tomorrow
A wave tossed in the ocean
A vapor in the wind
Still you hear me when I'm calling
Lord, you catch me when I'm falling
And you've told me who I am
I am yours


Who am I, that the eyes that see my sin
Would look on me with love
And watch me rise again?
Who am I, that the voice that calmed the sea
Would call out through the rain
And calm the storm in me?

The sun shall be no more your light by day, nor for brightness shall the moon give you light; but the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory. Your sun shall no more go down, nor your moon withdraw itself; for the Lord will be your everlasting light and your days of mourning shall be ended. Isaiah 60:19-20

When I said, "My foot is slipping," your love, O Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul. Psalm 94:18-19

Surviving the Off-Season

Several years ago, I was in bible study and met a woman who had recently lost her newborn son. He had a genetic disorder and was stillborn. My heart broke for her. Although I had lost two children to miscarriage, I honestly couldn't fathom surviving such a loss.

That is what happens when your child dies; you cannot fathom living without them. But, you have no choice. The harsh reality is that you must keep living; you just survive. And that is where I have found myself the past few months...in the depths of depression, desperately clinging to life. I feel helplessly torn between two worlds. So much of my heart is in Heaven and longs to be there, where there is no more pain, no more hurt, no more tears. In that place, I can hold three of my children in my arms. I see Dillon's face--he is alive, eyes open, beautiful, healthy and strong. But, I know the other part of me belongs here, where the rest of my family -- my husband, son and daughter -- need me. If I were gone, what would become of them? They would be cared for, yes, and life would inevitably go on, but no one would love them like I do. I must stay for them. I must keep living for them. I know this. Deep in my soul, tears burning down my face, I know this. So, I breathe a heavy breath of life. I too will survive this.

Grief is such a taboo thing. Many times, I have hesitated and withdrawn from posting things online because I have not wanted to be the "sad" person on people's social media feeds. Sadness can be tolerated for a while, but life must go on. For a grieving person, this is impossible. I have found that it is quite awkward to move to a new town a week after your newborn dies, not only because you are an obvious wreck on the inside, but because you still look pregnant. The body that graciously housed your precious baby for 8+ months now betrays you by not immediately returning to its former self. This leaves you vulnerable to well-meaning comments such as: "when are you due" and "oh you are pregnant!" Although, if people knew the horrific situation, they would, I hope, refrain from such comments, they cut like a knife all the same. Attempting to make friends at a time when my life is falling apart has also proven to be one of the most difficult things I have ever done. Talk about coming to a relationship with a lot of baggage! I jokingly say it feels something like, "Hi, I'm a complete mess. I'm lonely, depressed and not much fun. Will you please be my friend?" Thankfully, I have met a few women who have graciously welcomed me with open arms instead of turning and running the opposite direction! They continue to pursue friendship with me at a time when I know it would be easier not to, and for that I am forever grateful. I share this with you, why? To say that, with the help of others, I am surviving.

"Treasure"
Spiral Shell (Top)

5 1/2 months...sometimes, it seems as if time is standing still. We are almost through 1/2 of our year of firsts as they call it in "grief." We have been living at the beach for 5 months now, during the off-season. Ironically, this is my favorite time of year in this place. The beach is often empty, cold, windy; the waves rough and the seas restless. Yet other times, the water is peacefully calm, tranquil even, as the sun beams down, glistening on the water as the dolphins glide through the surf. When the waves crash, and the tides recede, treasure is left on the sand to be collected before it is swept back out with the current. Much like the seasons of life, the off-season in this place mirrors the off-season of my soul as I grieve for my son. As I admire the different shells, shark teeth and sea glass, I can't help but notice how unique each one is and find myself wondering where their journey began and where the ocean current took them before ending up on this particular beach, at this moment, with me? The sea glass once so sharp and jagged has long been smoothed by the churning of the sea. I imagine my own life and the blunt edges I feel from the pain of losing Dillon. Over time, will God smooth those edges? Will I be as beautiful as this piece of glass one day? Recently, as I walked along the shoreline, I began to pray. For the first time in a long time, I completely gave over to God many things I had been holding on to: Fears. Hopes. Dreams. Pain. Everything. It was liberating. As I breathed in the salt air, I looked down through tears and saw the most perfect spiral shell. I had never found one completely intact before and was overwhelmed with happiness. Then, the irony of the moment struck me....God doesn't want pieces of me or bits of my situations. He wants all of me. He wants me to trust Him with everything. I long for a time when life will be filled with sunshine and happiness again. But for now, I will keep my eyes focused upward, keep looking for treasure and keep surviving this off-season.

The Lord is near the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. -Psalm 34:18

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. -Revelation 21:4

I wait for the LORD, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope. -Psalm 130:5

A song I often find myself singing as I walk along the shoreline is Oceans by Hillsong United. You can listen to it by clicking here. These are some lyrics that I find especially impactful...

You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep
My faith will stand

So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior

“But where shall wisdom be found?

And where is the place of understanding?

Man does not know its worth,

and it is not found in the land of the living. 

The deep says, ‘It is not in me,’

and the sea says, ‘It is not with me.’ 

It cannot be bought for gold,

and silver cannot be weighed as its price.

It cannot be valued in the gold of Ophir,

in precious onyx or sapphire. 

Gold and glass cannot equal it,

nor can it be exchanged for jewels of fine gold. 

No mention shall be made of coral or of crystal;

the price of wisdom is above pearls. 

The topaz of Ethiopia cannot equal it,

nor can it be valued in pure gold.

-Job 28:12-19 

“God understands the way to it,

and he knows its place.

 For he looks to the ends of the earth

and sees everything under the heavens.

 When he gave to the wind its weight

and apportioned the waters by measure,

 when he made a decree for the rain

and a way for the lightning of the thunder,

 then he saw it and declared it;

he established it, and searched it out.

 And he said to man,

‘Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom,

and to turn away from evil is understanding.’

-Job 28:23-28