October is mission’s month at Tower Hill. We raise money as a church to help those truly on mission overseas. But, closer to home, in my own heart and life, I have accepted a mission of my own. A few actually. The first and foremost being beginning the journey towards my masters in Ministry. My first class began August 22nd, and ended this past Tuesday. It was Graduate level writing, which is a talent of mine. However, it quickly became more than just another class to check off my list, as the connections I made with my instructor, the assignments I had to accomplish, including my research paper, all aligned with guiding me to my mission at hand. But more on that later. My second class starts on Tuesday, and I’m proud to say I got an A in my first class and holding on to hope that I can continue the A game for my remaining 11 classes.
My second mission involves our motto “loving people to life”. I had the honor of befriending once again, someone who means a lot to me. Although I prayed this day would happen, I did not expect it to happen in the way it did. This friend now joins me at church on Sunday’s, allowed me the amazing honor and privilege of baptizing her in June, and has now moved into my apartment, completing my home and filling it with love and laughter. This bothers a lot of people, even if they to my face tell me it does not bother them. So, for those of you that it does bother—-Instead of opening your mouths to comment on how I should be finding a spouse, or making a rude and inappropriate comment regarding if we are a couple, open your bibles. Turn to the book of Ruth and read the story of Ruth and Naomi. Turn and read the parable of Mary and Martha. Mary and Elizabeth. And if you must be secular, turn to episodes of I Love Lucy, and see the friendship between Lucy and Ethel. Laverne and Shirley. Thelma and Louise. Love is not defined by simply romance, marriage, and sex. Love is, or should be, much more than that. God’s love is pure and is meant for everyone. Jesus himself says many times over, “Love as I have loved you.” Jesus does not love all of us romantically, or sexually, so why do two women having a special bond and connection cause you to automatically assume we must be a couple? It’s disrespectful to not only us, but to God, who gave us this strong relationship. I am on a mission to prove that it is very important for women to have at least one special friend, someone they can share anything with—good news, bad news, sickness, heartache, sorrow, grief, fun, adventures. I am at a point in my life where I now know I will never biologically have a child and my condition makes being submissively intimate (for lack of a better term) difficult, therefore I am choosing to be content with what I have: my dog, and an amazing woman I can be emotionally vulnerable and raw with, but also have a good time with. We are on a sacred journey and hope to touch others with our strong friendship along the way. If it bothers you that much to see me happy again, to see me living life, trying new things, and having a best friend to do it with—then walk away. But shut the door on your way out, because it’s beginning to get cold!
My third, and most important mission thus far, however, stems from the subject of my Research paper. When I first got this assignment, I was totally unsure of where to turn. I knew I didn’t want to just choose something “at hand”, like abortion, the importance of politics, or some other current event that can easily slide into ministry. I wanted it to be a passion of mine. So, where else do you turn in a case like this, than inside your own heart. There, I found it. Ministering to the heart of a grieving mother. This is an area that needs to be discussed, and not just among our own private circles either. This is an area that pastors and priests need improvement on. While I know my own experience with priests during my own loss may not mimic others’ (as it’s not supposed to….it’s MINE!) I still feel like many women have been “let down” in this area by their church leaders. Their spouses, even. And some women, at the time of their losses, were so ashamed, so guilt ridden, so people pleasing—-that they hid their grief. They rationalized “I’m young, I can conceive again. I won’t lose the next one.” Years later, however, they realize there is this undiagnosed heaviness in their hearts. That undealt with grief of their precious angel baby. A secret sorrow they’ve carried for years, perhaps only being shared with their spouse. While having another child definitely would help the ache caused by a pregnancy loss…it does not erase it completely. It needs to be talked about and dealt with individually. Even if you do not believe in God, medical science confirms that a heartbeat is one sign of life. A fetus’ heartbeat begins beating at 16 DAYS gestation. WEEKS before a mother finds out she’s pregnant, her child’s heart is already beating. If you’ve lost a child, but went on to carry other children successfully, how can you forget those moments of hearing your child’s heartbeat, and watching your child grow within you? You expected that experience with the child you lost, so why do you hide them from your memory, from your family? Find a friend, find a counselor, find someone to talk to about your loss. 1 in 4 women have a miscarriage. VISUALIZE that statistic: Do you have 4 sisters? One of them will experience a loss. Do you attend church regularly? Next time you go to your service, look around before it starts, visualize all the women—1 in every 4 will no doubt have had a loss, some more than one. If you’re reading my blog—you already know one woman who has suffered a loss. ME. I am 1 in 4. I am a mother to an angel. Her name is Delanie Rose. She’d be 8 years old. We’d be excitedly getting ready for Halloween, playing in the leaves, baking apple pies together after picking them with her special memere’. We’d be going to church together where I’d hopefully watch her grow into a powerful woman of God, empowered by her faith, despite going through the growing pains of living in a painful world. Instead—-my world is empty. My arms ache to hold her, or another child that will never be at least biologically. Instead, I turn to my special friend, and we remember her memory the best we can. A beautiful statue of an angel baby sits in my garden, with a plaque that carries her name and the date my world came crashing down—January 16, 2015. While I have come far in my grief journey, I am still not myself. I still ache. More so now that I know I can never have a child of my own. Even if I were to get pregnant again, it would end the same. With silence. With no heartbeat. With endless tears. But I am taking my aches, my pains, my tears—and using them. Uniting them to be the voice for all the women who still suffer in silence. Who have suffered a loss and kept it to themselves for a variety of reasons. For those women who rationalized with their minds that it wasn’t a baby, had other children and buried in their heart and mind the child they could have had. For those women who feel alone, but don’t know where to turn. They are my mission field right now- this paper started it, and God will run with it. I don’t know what’s next in this mission battlefield. Perhaps getting in front of a camera and doing a news story on Pregnancy and infant loss, perhaps creating a talk or presentation to take to various church groups. Or perhaps it’s by simply giving myself the grace to share Delanie with others, encouraging them to share their own stories, and listening to them as they do so. Not to reply. Not to feed them cliche lines of “I’m so sorry, but at least you had other children.” Not to say “You’re young, you can try again.” Instead—to hug them. To hold them and cry with them. To tell them their baby mattered. And THEY matter. To encourage them to share, to remember, and to grieve. Regardless of how long they’ve kept it locked inside, the time to grieve….is now. The time to no longer remain silent….is NOW. With 25% of pregnancies ending in miscarriage, and even more ending through stillbirth and SIDS…THE TIME TO BE SILENT ENDS NOW. If I even hear one woman come forward and share their story with me, even if it’s privately….it is one less woman suffering in silence.
I SEE YOU. I HEAR YOU. I LOVE YOU. I….AM…..YOU.
Amanda's Musings 