We arrived home for good after several days of hospital recovery, a trip home and a trip back to the hospital for a DNC and another week of observation. Exhausted, weak and an emotional wreck I wanted nothing more than to hide myself away and grieve in silence the son God chose to take home. Days, however were filled with familiar faces and seas of sound I wanted to be able to drown in. Instead I felt trapped, as if in a dream … being shot at, but unable to move – I wanted to run.
We are not always placed in the middle of our ideal. Instead of strength to strength I felt I was going from struggle to struggle. How could losing a child hurt so much? It felt like a part of me had been ripped out and no one around me could understand. I was ALONE!
I knew it was a lie. The enemy always likes to make you think you’re alone. But, though I knew in my mind I was not, I could not make myself feel loved. Days were passing slowly and the idea that healing may have occurred seemed a blip on the radar in the craziness of the storm raging round us.
Death has a funny way of bringing life. I see the masterpiece of its design more as time goes by and God makes us truly ALIVE. At the same time I was grieving Eben, God was bringing to me understanding of the wholeness he had already brought to my life through the little boy he had given. My husband always says God is multi-faceted. He is. He does ALL things well! This was more than a physical healing. Jesus was healing my heart! Why would I doubt his heart for me as it pertained to the rest of His plan?