I lost my fourth pregnancy in September 2015. My fourth. You would think that by that stage it would have gotten easier but it didn’t. I was as secure in my faith as ever. I was just about to finish my training as a pastor. But my faith didn’t take away my pain. I didn’t feel angry at God or question His existence. I just felt sad. A deep misty grey kind of sadness. The kind that steals you from reality and places you in a space where you feel nothing, and many things all at the same time.
No words can describe it.
You know the place
The painting on the right was my Facebook profile picture for September.
She was me.
I looked out into a bright misty future.
I knew there was life beyond this moment.
I knew that it would still be as beautiful as ever. But I was choosing to stand still for this time, and reluctantly let the wind dance around me.
I stood still, but the beauty of life did not.
She is dressed in a deep red. The colour of love.
A women who grieves, is a women who loves.
She clothes herself with love. She pulls her little boy in tight, and she ties up her hair as she contemplates how best to walk through this viciously beautiful storm.
You can’t see their faces.
But you can feel their sadness.
I walked the invisible storm. But never alone.
A year later I was fortunate to post the photo with full arms.
I don’t know how miracles work. But not even science can explain identical twins.
All over again I am in a place where words are hard to come by.
I am grateful.
I am rich.
I am wounded.
I am found.
I am whole.
And I am completely clothed in love.