Comments on: Helpless

By: Justine

Justine — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 17:46:32 +0000

All I have to add to this discussion is that I hope I never again have to see a father carrying a tiny little casket in his own hands down the aisle of our church, or anywhere else for that matter. It was a brutal day.

By: Amy

Amy — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 17:37:13 +0000

I’ve been really touched, both by reading your post and the poem Give. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

By: annegb

annegb — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 14:36:43 +0000

I realize I need to do more blogging. Not blogging, visiting, because there’s so much here. So much to learn and grow from. Thank you for sharing this, Justine.

By: Kathryn Soper

Kathryn Soper — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 16:14:24 +0000

I agree, Justine. “Bearing one another’s burdens” is a very real, very hard, very beautiful thing.

By: Justine

Justine — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 15:56:33 +0000

Kathy, your comments were really good to read. I feel like I understand what’s happening more now. And I know I can stick closely to her in the coming weeks as this reality settles in.

And no, I’m not really harboring any unwarranted guilt, I think I’m just more fully realizing that sometimes I can learn from someone else’s suffering, and sometimes they can learn from mine. That gives me the opportunity to serve through their suffering and they through mine. So, in that sense, her suffering is teaching me new ways to serve and nurture. It’s a rough time, though. I kind of feel like time has stopped.

By: Tiffany

Tiffany — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 15:29:54 +0000

That was a beautiful post. While attending the funeral of my cousin, who had left four small children behind, my dad made a very poignant observation that the Spirit really takes over and supports the ones left behind so they can cope. My dad lost his first wife to a severe illness and he was left with his three young daughters. From his comments, I gather that he felt that same uplifting at such a devastating time.

By: Emily M.

Emily M. — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 04:03:24 +0000

Thank you for this, Justine. I think your son gets his deep empathy from you.

And oh, that poem. I’m so grateful for writers who write their pain in a way that allows me to feel the experience without being… preached to. She doesn’t say “Stillbirth is wrenchingly painful;” she says “Babies fall through me, birthed to return straight to heaven,” and then I, the reader, think how wrenching it is. I appreciate the artistry involved in making pain into powerful, communicating art.

By: Kathryn Soper

Kathryn Soper — Mon, 18 Feb 2008 19:36:32 +0000

Oh, Justine, I’m so sorry.

During the 2 neonatal crises I experienced I had the same calmness, radiance, and rationality you’ve described. People would call me, crying, and I’d tell them everything was okay. I had this surreal peace. While I believe the spirit played an important part, I think a great deal of that peace was numbness and shock. It wore off. And I was ashamed of myself when it left me, because I thought I had been so in tune with God that I was able to transcend grief and fear.

So if the situation you’re describing is anything like mine (and I hasten to add that it very well may not be), I would say this: You’re not being weak, you’re being normal. Your friend isn’t being strong, she’s being normal. Your normal is different than hers because you’re playing different roles. It will take longer for her body and mind to begin processing the loss because it’s so much larger and more threatening on her end. And whether it’s the spirit or denial or both that’s enabling your friend’s calmness, I imagine she will need lots of love and care when other emotion breaks through.

What a great gift you’re giving by crying for her. Don’t be ashamed, it’s the best thing you could do for her right now.

I worried when I read your line “she’s suffering so I might learn.” I’m not sure what you meant, but just in case you’re shouldering unwarranted guilt, let me say this: Your learning is a poignant and valuable effect of this sad situation, but effect is not the same as cause.