Spring is an interesting time of year where I live. I have seen snow as early as September, and as late as June. This can make dressing some days very challenging. During one such confused spring day, I decided to wear capris jeans and a cute patterned turtleneck. Morning temps were low 30’s but we were going to have a high of 68!I knew I was walking after work and figured the ensemble would negate the need for a light jacket. This outfit worked great for my morning walk, and the rest of my workday. I had outsmarted the weather and was pretty proud of myself!
FINALLY it was the end of the workday, and my escape was imminent. I was about to walk a giant loop, stopping to meet up with friends for a happy hour date along the way. Little did I know this casual walk would soon turn into a sweaty march.
Ear buds in, a podcast going, and I was off. Everything was peachy for the first quarter of my walk. Second quarter I was getting toasty and wishing I had another layer under my turtleneck to shed. By the third quarter, my outfit pride from earlier was turning to a whole lot of regret. Added to my critical ensemble error was anther important miscalculation; my timing. So by the fourth quarter of this ill-conceived march, I was sweaty, speed walking, and late for happy hour.
Mamas, my sweaty march paints a perfect picture of what we look like when we try to navigate our baby loss journey alone. We quickly become hot, late, sweaty, depleted messes when Jesus isn’t our weatherman. Did I make it to my destination that day? Technically, yes. Could it have been a slightly more pleasant experience? Definitely, YES!
Mamas, how many of our baby loss journey scars are self-inflected? How many days of our journey are we trying to be our own weatherman? I had felt God nudges and whisperings as I marched through my in-vitro journey. Post egg-retrieval, I only one embryo/baby survive the 5-day watching period. I felt defeated. My in-vitro journey had just begun, but it already felt like my ending was written. My future family hopes seemed impossibly bleak. I had only one shot; my ice baby.
My head knew, but my heart was clinging to faith. Any time I would allow myself to count the staggering odds stacked against my single ice baby, I felt guilty. Little did I know I would have many months to grapple with these intrusive guilt ridden predictions.
Nine months later it became final. Ice baby was thawed and implanted, and 10 days later, a negative pregnancy test sealed my future family fate. My head knew all along, but my heart was still shattered.
Post ice baby I wanted to listen to my head only and ignore my heart. My heart made me break into tears out of the blue. In contrast, my head had the plan. My head was my fixer. My head was going to make this unfamiliar and uncomfortable grief matter.
I wanted to continue to bulldoze forward with my head leading,
but my pesky heart kept getting in the way.
My head knew that at my current trajectory, I wasn’t going to heal. My head made me look into local grief share groups. At this very first group meeting, my head and heart finally came back together. My head and my heart both knew I had to slow down, surrender, and allow my weatherman navigate. I was finally walking in sync: my head, my heart and Jesus my weatherman.
Mamas, if you find yourself on your baby loss march sweaty, speed walking and late – its time to call on your weatherman. Only Jesus can align your head and your heart, and allow true healing to begin. Who better to put the pieces of your heart back together than the one who created it?
“You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb.”
Psalms 139:13 NLT.
Mamas, wipe the sweat from your brow, reach up, take His hand, and allow Jesus be your weatherman.
Ice Baby Ministries 