(by Emily Foster) The first two weeks are basically a dark blur. I was constantly crying. I wore black every day because my entire world had darkened. It was as if the sun had set and would never rise again. I rarely left the house but I know that it must have been warm and sunny outside. And despite me opening the curtains to let the sunlight in, my memory is only of a dimly lit house.
Two and half weeks after Nicaea, we decided to visit friends and family in Cincinnati as an attempt to alleviate some of the heaviness. It ended up being a very difficult visit. I had anticipated returning with my daughter to introduce her to everyone. But instead she wasn’t with me. Her seat in the minivan was empty. During the trip, I began to realize that I was still in denial that she was gone from this world forever. There was no getting her back.
I was trying hard in my mind to think how to fix everything. I kept mulling over it. If there was something I could just somehow change. If I had just taken my prenatal more consistently or drank more water or ate more protein or… But there is no way to fix this. It felt like a bad dream. Something that I should wake up from. Something that shouldn’t have happen to me. But it did. And it was not random. It was God’s plan from the beginning. He knew the number of Nicaea’s days. He intended it to be this way and not how I had expected. You can’t fix or even alter God’s plan. He is in complete control.
It was a struggle to realize how vulnerable and truly out of control I am. It still is. I can’t control whether my child lives or dies. I cant control what germs get into my body. I can’t control whether I will have a boy or a girl next time we get pregnant, Lord-willing. And I can’t control the outcome of that pregnancy either. I have so many fears.
The Lord is gave this trial as a test, to perfect me. Will I run to Him with my fears or run to an imaginary world where I have control? I keep praying He would increase my faith, as it feels so very weak… wavering… small as a mustard seed. I still feel physically ill at times when I realize again what has happened. There is a pit in my stomach and a lump in my throat. But I keep running to God in prayer during these dark times. Where else can I go? For only He has the words of eternal life.
I was looking in my closet the other morning. I could feel the temptation to be depressed. The darkness was looming. Like a lion waiting to pounce… Sin was knocking at my door. My eyes glanced over the hangers and settled on the black articles of clothing clustered together on the far left. I kept thinking, “If I have hope, I should be wearing color.” Scripture says our outward appearance mirrors our heart. It also says this temptation to sin, to feel entitled to wallow in my grief, is common to man. As I saw the rainbow of shirts to the right, I saw the beginning of my way to escape depression. I chose to wear pink.