They say grief hits you when you least expect it. I had one of those moments last week.
Beckett (our 2nd son, though I don’t refer to him that way to new acquaintances) is almost six months old, and I haven’t had many “Kyler moments” yet. I haven’t sat in the floor and cried over him or been caught off guard by some conversation about him. I feel a little guilty about that, but I don’t quite know how to change it… or if I should try. A friend who lost her 3 week old daughter told me that in her own experience, she couldn’t make room for grief during the newborn phase. She said memories of her daughter came floating back in as her second baby grew. I understood that comment to mean that it’s acceptable and normal to feel so consumed by something (newborn-hood) that your previously all-consuming thing has to take a backseat. Still, I had expected to feel more sadness and longing as Beckett showed us all of the experiences that we had missed with Kyler.
So here we are, nearly six months into our actualized experience of parenting, feeling guilt over NOT feeling grief, not mulling over a million what-ifs, and still struggling with how Kyler fits into our conversations. How odd.
Beckett had his first stomach virus last week at the same time that he popped out his first tooth. Couple that with his learning to sit, and that makes for several rough nights.
Because of all this fun. I got to “dub” all day last Wednesday as movie day and move-the-baby-as-little-as-possible-to-avoid-vomit day. We were watching the Sound of Music when the Von Trapps left the abbey as they fled Austria. Maria’s friend looks into her fearful eyes and says, “Remember, ‘I lift my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from?’”
Pang. Tears came within seconds. That line called back to mind the night before Beckett was born. I was NOT in a good frame of mind. I couldn’t physically rest- tempering thoughts of fear and doom with hope and gratitude. I couldn’t make myself ignore his movements - or stillness. A friend (Amy) sent me Psalm 121 typed out in a message [see below]. That scripture became the anchor that got me through that last full night before we *might* have a baby. I remembered that MercyMe had a song based on that passage, and I replayed it the entire night. Over and over and over, until I was convinced that “The One who watches over you will neither slumber nor sleep.” The memory of that night brought back all the fear of Beckett’s pregnancy and, of course, memories of July 2018 that caused the fear.
As emotional as I was in that moment at the end of the Sound of Music, I was quickly distracted - hello, motherhood! - and forgot all about it. That night, I still had the weird, lurking, sad feeling but couldn’t remember for the life of me what had caused it and where it came from. In fact, I thought I had seen something in Cheaper by the Dozen, so I re-watched that movie twice to find the moment that had made me so emotional.
On Sunday, the choir sang Psalm 121. The scripture, printed out in front of me, hit me in the gut all over again. But I still couldn’t remember when that passage had hit me earlier that week…
And finally today, Monday, I went to the same friend- Amy’s - house. As I walked in and unpacked all of Beckett’s gear, I halfway noticed that she had music playing in the background.
THE FLIPPING SOUND OF MUSIC SOUNDTRACK.
It took, like, 15 seconds to connect the dots. THAT’S what started this Psalm 121 memory. So, sitting in the middle of the floor with three babies and toys all over, I got to tell Amy, “Remember when you send me the text of Psalm 121?...” and how this passage had been determined to “find me” this week.
Per usual, I’m not totally sure of the lesson here. But I’m reminded of some good things: of friends who care and think they have no clue how to help but ARE helping just by trying, God who is sovereign, God who will get our attention however He needs to, how limited my understanding and power are, that I am not in control and how great of a thing that is, God sees bigger picture than I ever could, grief is weird and intermittent and intermingled, I hope there still is no right or wrong way to grieve, and that Scripture is God-breathed, does not return to Him until it has accomplished what it was intended to do, and that it’s alive and active.
Oh, and I definitely was reminded that I’d take time with a teething and sick and sleepless baby EVERY DAY over not getting to spend time with him at all.
Psalm 121
“I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.”
