For those who understand grief....

I just need to say this...I'm ANGRY.  If I'm being honest, I've always been a spitfire. The last several years and the general experiences of life have mellowed me greatly, but the fire is still there.  My husband, at one time, would have told anyone I was a handful and almost more than he could handle at times.  Fiercely independent, headstrong, goal-oriented and high strung are all traits of a first born child and I've mastered each one.  Don't get me wrong, I have put much time and effort into appearing even and mild-tempered, but those who know me best, know better. 

After we lost our son, my husband immediately descended into a tidal wave of grief.  Most days he seemed like a foreigner to me.  Not only did I long for my son in my arms, but I longed for my happy -go-lucky husband to come back to me.  There were many dark days where I questioned if our lives would ever remotely resemble our pre-March 17th lives. As for me, I just couldn't seem to feel anything.  They say the first stage of grief is denial, but I felt NOTHING.  The reality of my situation was very real; I could not deny my son was never coming back...I could not cry...I couldn't even question GOD.  Logically, my mind knew truth, I mean I knew GOD had a more perfect plan that I could comprehend.  I KNEW my salvation was real and that meant I would once again be with our child...I KNEW how blessed I was to have carried him, but my body wasn't having it.  The numbness was all-consuming.  Numbness greeting me in the morning and lulled me to sleep at night.  When I'm at my very darkest point, I am blessed to have a person who speaks truth to me no matter what.  This person has loved and nurtured me from a very young age and did the same for my husband.  She is a neighbor and importantly, a friend.  Finally, I went to her..that alone felt like defeat to me.  She listened as I poured out my most desperate thoughts and fears and she said the most profound thing. "You are exactly where you need to be right now.  In six months, you will suddenly be hit with reality and you will grieve in your own way.  You are a mother and a wife and because of this, you've taken care of your grieving family, your turn will come later."

Fast forward to 9/16...my husband and I were on a much needed vacation/business trip and sure enough, I fell apart. There's something hideously wonderful about falling apart 5 hours from those you love.  The man who has comforted me for the last 18 years, was all I had.  God orchestrated this no doubt.  My husband NEEDED me to need him and I needed it too.  He wiped my tears, held me, and basically, let me fall so he could catch me.  When the mess and busyness of daily life was taken from me on vacation, I had no choice but to deal with my feelings.  This vacation was a mess by all accounts, but probably the best and most renewing time we've had together in years. As I began to deal with things, I began to realize how angry I am. 

It seems there are so many reasons to be angry.  I'm quite aware that life stinks for all of us in varying degrees on a daily basis.  This is not lost to me, but loss of control makes me angry.  I've always operated under the idea that if a person works their tale off, does the right things and pushes forward with faith, good things take place.  Well, my little life notion  was blown to heck when I was told I would be delivering a child that couldn't survive.  It makes me angry that my perfectly formed, normal in every way son died because my body couldn't hold him in.  It angers me that years and years were wasted by incompetent drs who couldn't diagnose my condition. It angers me that we are judged by our decision to see a "redneck OB" locally.  Oddly enough, I've made dozens of trips to specialists, Vanderbilt, Louisville, UK, etc., and a little small practice Dr. diagnosed my condition immediately and accurately.  Hmmm.  It angers me that I put more faith in Drs. than I did in GOD. It angers me that I have to pause EVERYTIME I'm ask how many children I have.  It angers me that I had to make important health decisions that I was not mentally able to make. It angers me that children at the gestation of my son are aborted every day. It angers me that life isn't honored as it should be. It angers me that my daughter didn't have her simple, honest prayers answered...praying for a sibling. I'm JUST angry. Maybe worst of all is knowing that the old angry me that I've worked so hard to change, really never left to begin with.

Of course, once again, I have to rely on logic.  Knowing that anger is an important step of the grieving process, I know this is only a phase.  So, this snappy, bite-your-head-off, no-time-for- ignorance way I've been feeling will surely be short-lived.  It's often said that grief changes people, but I think grief changes people over and over again. So, my name is Liz Whitlock and these days, hateful is the new me.

Lord, help us all..