3 Things I've Learned in 3 Years Since a Prenatal Diagnosis
Three years feels old.To a mom of a forever seven-hour-old newborn and a growing baby girl, three seems old. To think that three years ago I was pregnant with our oldest and awaiting the ultrasound appointment where we'd hear his diagnosis of a neural tube defect that would ultimately shorten his life so dramatically - it feels so long on one hand, and so short on the other.I've been reflecting this morning on that day three years ago. I'm torn between two extremes. On one hand, it doesn't really feel real. That wasn't really a part of my life, was it? On the other hand, it feels so intrinsically woven and connected to who I am (now) that I cannot separate myself from it. Only three years? And yet - three whole years!?In honor of the three years, as I've continued to grieve - since the grief really began that Wednesday August 26th in 2015 - here are three things that I've learned to be true in the three years since Jacob's prenatal diagnosis.
1. God is with me.
Forever and ever, amen. If there's anything that was and is and continues to be true, that God keeps teaching me in practice and in reading about Him in His Word, it's that he's with me. He's near. Through it all - the good things and the bad - he promises. He's here. He's with me.And beyond the fact that he's with me matters intellectually, his nearness has actually mattered to me personally - in my comfort and in my everyday life. I've learned that his nearness is enough.A few verses that have been significant to me:
Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. - Revelation 21:3When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior... Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you, I give men in return for you, peoples in exchange for your life. Fear not, for I am with you... - Isaiah 43:2-5
And most recently [as in even just this past week]:
God is our refuge and very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved to the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling... God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns... The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. - Psalm 46:1-5
There's a beautiful version of this psalm sung by Shane and Shane that you can listen to here.
2. Grief continues.
It doesn't always look the same, and it isn't always triggered by the same things - although sometimes it can be predictable. It shifts, it morphs, it changes over time.Early on in my grief, I looked ahead towards grief and I thought - impossible. The thought that I'd always be grieving felt so overwhelming. How would I continue to go on? How could I possibly continue to live? Part of me wanted so badly to just "get past" that time of my life. But the other part of me wanted to hold onto the deep grief as long as possible. I wanted to be always attached to Jacob, always mourning him.But even though grief changes and it doesn't look the same or come out in the same ways, it is still there. I no longer struggle to get through every day like I once did. But sometimes I struggle to get through the day still. It might not be as dark and deep at the same frequency and height of emotion, but its still there and I'm still attached to him. In fact, I even began to find that grief is beautiful - something I had always eye-rolled when I heard others talk about it.Grief continues. It changes. It's changed me. I still miss my son. I still love him. And it's okay that it looks different.
3. He's Still a Part of Our Family.
Sometimes I get this weird anxious jealous feeling that if Jacob isn't as "well-known" as others' children who died, then it means he doesn't matter as much. I know, writing that out feels as ridiculous to me as it probably sounds to you. But it's honest and true. If Jacob isn't thought of by thousands of people every day, then he doesn't matter, right? Or even, if he's not thought of by anyone else other than me every day, then he doesn't matter. Right?Wrong.Jacob matters. His life matters.He's known and loved by the Creator of the universe. He is still my son, no matter how much time has passed. He is my first-born. My oldest child. BG's "big" brother. He was still born, he still lived, and he still matters. He has shaped our family, he has changed his parents, he's thought of and loved and remembered by his aunts and uncles and grandparents and many, many friends. But even if he wasn't, it wouldn't change the value of his life.Even if no one else speaks his name or remembers his birthday, Jacob is still loved. By me, by his dad, but ultimately - by God himself.Forever - and ever - amen.
For the One Facing Prenatal Diagnosis:
If you're sitting in that ultrasound waiting room, waiting to hear the results of your baby's test... if you're wading through those early days - or the late days - of anticipatory grief... if you're hurting because something is "wrong" with your baby... here's my encouragement for you.
- God is with you. He loves you. He cares. He will be faithful even when you are faithless. Be brave. Be bold. Be courageous. Be completely honest before him with all of your thoughts and fears and emotions and even with your anger. Remember that in the loneliest of days - because grief is lonely - he's there with you. He was back in the Garden of Eden, he was in the person of Jesus as he walked among us, and he is forever to come as he says in Revelation 21. He's with you. He's with you. He's with you. Lean into him. He cares.
- Grief continues. It continues and it changes and it morphs. And that's okay. Beautiful, even. It might not feel that way for now, and nothing will ever replace or be a good "fill-in" for your baby. Yes, having your baby here way beats what you learn and experience and how you change through grief. Every time. But lean into the grief as you lean into God. It's hard. But it will change. It won't always be the same - for better and for worse. You aren't crazy. Your deep grief shows your deep love for your baby. And that's a beautiful thing.
- Your baby is still a part of your family. Your baby matters. Your baby is still your child and you can choose to love and honor and care for your baby as you best see fit. God gives your baby value simply because your baby is created in His image. "For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth" (Psalm 139:14-15.) Even if your baby is deemed "incompatible" with life or "broken" in the eyes of the world, God still created your child. He knows his/her frame. He wove it together. And he still calls it good - somehow, even if it's wrought by the effects of sin. He still loves your baby. He still calls him/her his. Your baby matters.
Three years and I'm completely changed. I imagine more will come. I'm so thankful - I'm so thankful that God saw fit for me to carry Jacob, to be his mom. I'm so thankful that we found out when we did three years ago about his diagnosis, his special needs. I'm so thankful that I can still love my baby boy as long as I am alive. That will never change.Here's to approaching his third birthday with the same love and grief that I'm experiencing today. I love you, sweet boy. And I miss you.
I'd love to hear your thoughts!
How have you been changed because of a prenatal diagnosis? Or maybe - just maybe - you've been changed by ours. I'd love to hear if Jacob has changed you. You can bless my mama heart and share any encouragement you've received because of his life. I'd be so honored to know.