"Here's how you get through this."

The above photograph is one of the very few that I have with or of Emmett.  (I spent another hour crying today because I went through the photos and long for more…there will never be enough.)

I remember laying in the bed, and somewhere around when this was taken, I looked up at the somber faces around me and said, "What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do next?"

I was immediately told to not worry, that we would figure things out, and take things one day at a time. I remember nodding numbly, as I tried to settle myself and my emotions.  I'm pretty sure I was somewhere between total euphoria and a complete nervous and mental breakdown.  I was riding my post-delivery high, mourning my son, and yet still somehow holding onto hope.  It was, and continues to be, the most insane emotional roller coaster.

Over the past (almost) 22 weeks, I know I have come so far.  I still break down, I still have really awful days, but I have learned to smile sincerely again.  I have found joy in small moments and learned to cherish every second of life, because it is terribly short.  I have also learned more about who God is in these past four months than I had in my entire life leading up to the moment of hearing, "There is no heartbeat."

When Ryan prayed in the hospital, the night we arrived, he declared we would still trust God.  A few days later, my pastor came to our house to help discuss funeral arrangements, and he prayed that a spirit of devastation would not come upon us.  These prayers have permanently burned themselves into my mind because of their fiery sincerity.  We have time and time again turned to God and cried out, and He has responded.  There have been countless days that I have sat in my bed, unable to move, unable to do anything but cry, and I swear it was like Jesus was sitting next to me, weeping alongside of me.  I am telling you all of this because I want to give an accurate record of what it has been like.

In order to be accurate, and to be honest though, it has not always been so pretty.  We have had plenty of moments where we screamed at God.  Why didn't He intervene?  If He is as all-powerful as He claims, where was He in Emmett's death?  Again though, He has shown us grace.  He has shown us mercy, and even gave Ryan a vivid picture of how He feels about our circumstance.  Simply put, He grieves with us.

If I could go back in time, and hold my own hand, there are some things I would love to say to myself.  I would say, "Here's how you get through this.  You allow yourself to feel everything.  You allow yourself to go through the grief, the anger, the pain, the sorrow, because that is the only way you get through.  When you want to tell God how you feel, go for it, He can take it.  He wants to take all of your anger and sadness and hurt, and give you joy again.  He doesn't want to take away your memory of love for your son, but He wants to restore the broken places in your heart, so let Him.  Continue to lean into Him, because it's the only way you will survive."

I wish I could relay all of that to the woman in this photo.  I was so panicked, so confused, so numb.  I didn't know what to do.  I wandered around my house like a zombie for at least a month, just trying to remember to breathe and sleep.  Sometimes it still feels like that's all I can do.  One breath at a time, one step at a time…but I get through it.  I keep going, not by my own strength, but through Jesus, because that really is the only way you can get through something so tragic.  At the end of the day, every other way will leave a void in your heart.  It's truly only through Jesus that you can be renewed and restored, and what's so beautiful is He wants that.  He longs to be with us.  He desires relationship with us, because He loves us, no matter where we're at or what things look like.

True freedom is found in letting go and allowing God to transform your life.  Healing comes in the surrender.  It can be painful, but it is beautiful and real.