Grief is different for everyone. Some choose to shove it all down and move on as if nothing has happened (which may or may not lead to an erupting volcano of emotions somewhere down the road in life), and then there are some brave souls who do their best to make conscious efforts to walk through the pain, go through the memories, and try to talk and reason it all out (if it's even possible) with someone. I'd love to be able to say that I am 100% “Person B”, but truthfully, I think I'm more of “Person A” than I want to admit. The encouraging part is that I have seen and experienced some personal progress in the last two and a half years. Progress doesn't fill in the gaping hole in my heart that aches for my son, but it’s working towards something positive.
So, yeah, grief sucks. It really, REALLY sucks. I’ve had to spend that time without my Aaron. Instead of rocking him to sleep, I’ve cried myself to sleep for too many nights beyond count. Instead of seeing milestones of his development- his first smile, the first time he laughed, his first foods, his first steps- I dreaded the days that I knew would be something extra special, like his first birthday. How odd and terrible of a feeling to dread your own child’s birthday. I literally made myself physically ill leading up to it. I even had to take three days off of work leading up to his birthday because I knew I couldn't handle it. By the time Aaron’s birthday came, my stomach was in knots the whole day, and all the self pep talks and delicious coffee that I was feeding myself throughout the day did not cheer me up out of the depression sinkhole I was in.
Grief is wearisome, especially when there are a ton of questions that are left unanswered and there’s no knowing what lies ahead. The only thing I really knew, and still know how to do, is trust God. In the swirling black chaotic room where my thoughts and emotions were dwelling, there were times where I felt like I was sitting in the corner all by myself and nothing was making sense. When I would sense a wave of overwhelming grief start to come for me, I completely felt God’s peace and protection surrounding me and helping me keep my head above water so I could breathe again. I couldn't tell you how many times this feeling happened. I despised that feeling, and yet I had peace knowing God was there to protect me.
The more I trust God, the easier it gets; even in the midst of extreme emotional pain. He’s shown Himself to be my faithful Redeemer by sending my husband and I a second son, Seth. The incredible thing about this situation is that one year after we found out that we were pregnant with Aaron, we found out that we were pregnant with Seth; their due dates were one year and four days apart. What a sweet blessing to my mama’s heart.
The name Seth means “appointed” and “anointed”, and his middle name, Nathanael, means “God’s gift”. When trying to decide on a solid Biblical name for our baby, Adam and I just really liked the sound of Seth and Nathanael together. Little did we know how much of a blessing from God Seth truly is. He has given me more joy than I ever thought was possible. The first time I held him in my arms, I couldn’t stop myself from weeping at the goodness and love of the Lord. Seth had taught me how to laugh with joy, even when my heart is hurting, and how to cherish and enjoy the little moments of the day. Like when he scrunches up his nose and makes a goofy face, or when he throws his head back and laughs at something silly that he did, or when he learns how to do something for the first time and I'm right there to see it. Oh, I love those moments where my heart feels like it could burst! I truly thought joy like this was impossible to attain again after we lost Aaron. I guess God wanted to give me a million little gifts to start healing my heart in one tiny Seth.
While I was pregnant with Seth, I really battled with anxiety and fear. I could hardly drive anywhere, let alone get on the freeway, without thoughts and fears of me dying a tragic death trying to take over my every thought. Even going to sleep at night was a real battle, as I would imagine robbers breaking into our apartment and trying to kill my husband and I. Along with all of this, the little emotional strength that I had left after worrying about all of this was focused on keeping this baby in my belly alive. I had to trust God in a way that I never had to before. I constantly prayed for Seth, mostly that he would be safe inside of me. That was a HUGE fear of mine, as Aaron had had complications with his umbilical cord at 35.5 weeks gestation, which is why he didn’t make it. It was a very long nine (and a half!) months of pregnancy. Whenever anxiety tried to cripple me, there was a Bible verse that I did my best to think of that brought me peace:
“Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!
He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing,
shall come home with shouts of joy,
bringing his sheaves with him.”
(Psalm 126:5,6)
My heart knew that God had seen every single tear that I had shed over my son Aaron. Every tear of pain and sorrow that fell from my eyes, God was with me, and He understood the anguish that I was walking through. Some nights would come where I didn’t have any words to pray, I could only cry tears as my offering. And that in itself was enough for God.
When my little precious Seth entered the world on November 22nd, 2015 with his lungs full of air, screaming, there were no adequate words to describe the feeling of that moment. Joy, bliss, redemption, love, fulfillment … even these words don’t do that moment justice. After having delivered Aaron a year earlier who didn’t scream or cry, who had no life in him, who would never open his eyes to look at me and need me to breastfeed him, Seth’s first cry was like my own victory cry. I had actually given birth and the gift of life to my baby.
I still have flashbacks of memories of being as the hospital for both of my sons’ deliveries, some debilitate me, and some bring me inexpressible joy. My hope is that one day I will be able to talk about Aaron’s labor and delivery as freely as I can Seth’s, but that may be a long time before my heart is ready for that.
Seth is in no way a “replacement” baby for the one we lost, but he is certainly my heart’s blessing and a personified answer to prayer.
“For this child I prayed, and the LORD has granted me my petition that I made to Him.”
(1 Samuel 1:27)