Breathe

Did I say that I need you?

Did I say that I want you?

Oh, if I didn't I'm a fool you see,..

No one knows this more than me.

As I come clean.

I wonder everyday

as I look upon your face, aw-huh,..

Everything you gave

And nothing you would take, aw huh,..

Nothing you would take

Everything you gave...

Pearl Jam, Just Breathe

       
One of the phrases that I hear people say during a person's hard time is: God doesn't give you more than you can handle.  It's always been something that has made me inwardly cringe. Not because I think  people are saying it to be insensitive, but because I think people who have said it may not have experienced the times when a person has been given too much.  Way too much.

I'm not talking about things like my baby being born with reflux or being an exhausted mother or even my husband losing his job.  No, I'm talking about the moments in one's life that have that have brought you to your knees, stolen your breath so it feels as if you are drowning while everyone else is breathing:  losing a child, a spouse, a loved one.  

I had my first miscarriage a few years after having my first daughter.  It completely turned my world upside down and at that time, I felt the first splintering of my heart.  When I lost my second baby, I lost a little of me. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to love.  It hurt to live.  Hearing that God wouldn't give me more than I could handle made me want to show people my heart--shattered to the point I thought I would never be me again.   I know Chris would come home from work, hoping to see me and instead he would find the shell of me--going through the motions of life; taking care of my daughter but without light and joy.  And as time went by there were some days I would find myself smiling at something silly she did and I know he thought Thank God, she's back.  But my smile would soon turn to silent tears--feeling guilty because I was enjoying life when my two babies weren't with me.  Yes, in those days, I was given more than I could handle. 

It made me bitter, angry, and sad.  And yet sad isn't the right word.  I don't think there is a word for someone who loses a baby.  If I could describe sad it would be more like:

raw.
broken.
shattered.  

Because of that, I chose to walk away from the one who I needed to lean on the most.   I now realize He didn't cause those things to happen to me, but I needed Him to help heal me.

Nothing You would take

Everything You gave...

He gave me so much.  My daughter, my twins, and finally my baby.  The ache of losing my two babies is still there but I'm breathing, loving and living again.  

Because of Him.