Walk Into The Pain

This post was originally written on June 7, 2014 on our family blog; one month after we lost our daughter Zoe. As true as these words were then, they still ring true today. 

One month later.

Still a family of five.

We’ve learned so much this past month and are still processing even more.

This past week I’ve been really praying and listening, asking God what He wants me to learn from this past month. Again and again, I hear Him reminding me to continue to walk into the pain

One of the first things I remember telling Jeff the evening Zoe passed away, was how much my heart hurt. I had never felt that type of pain before; it was different.

Because of the pain, there were so many things I found myself scared to do that first evening, one of them was to be alone. I needed Jeff to be with me whatever I did; I just couldn’t be alone. Maybe it was the loneliness that comes with loosing someone so close to you; I’m not sure.

That night we both laid in bed, but neither of us could sleep. In the early morning hours, we decided to get up, and that was when Jeff wrote this. As we talked through writing that first post, and shared our very raw story through tears, we began to feel comfort. After we pressed ‘publish’, I was able to get up and go back to bed without Jeff, as he was still wide awake. That was the first moment I began to realize that as allowed myself to walk into the pain, the more comfort and healing I was able to find.

(Our last picture of Zoe; just hours before she woke up in His arms.) 

The next day, was filled with hard things- waking up and realizing I wouldn’t hear her cries, continuing to pump milk (as I had still been nursing), going into Zoe’s room for the first time, looking at the pictures of Zoe that I had taken of her just hours before she passed away, the list could go on and on. However, because of what God had shown me early that morning, I walked into each of those moments with a new perspective- the more I allow myself and or sometimes force myself to walk into the pain, each time I was able to come out better and healthier than before.

Those next few days leading up to Zoe’s Celebration, were filled with very hard moments and decisions. One of my most healing moments was also one of the hardest, and it came the morning of Zoe’s Celebration. Jeff and I had decided that it would best for our family if he and I went alone to spend time with and see her, the morning before her celebration. We were both sick to our stomachs and nervous beyond belief to see her. However, after the initial crying, we were able to sit and hold her one last time. I was not sure I would be able to do that and had been fearing that moment since we first talked about it. However, we both sat silently, each holding her, staring at her until we were ready to kiss her goodbye. Jeff said it best, that during that time, we both realized that one’s soul does change their appearance, and even though she looked like our Zoe, she looked different. Her soul was gone. That was just the assurance we needed to bring a tremendous peace and comfort that only the Lord could give. The hard things didn’t subside, but my pain and fear did, each time I walked into the pain.

Today walking into the pain looks different than it did a month ago-

maybe it’s not turning the radio off when a song that stirs my emotions comes on but allowing myself to cry through it,

maybe it’s sitting and watching videos or looking at pictures of Zoe that bring tears of joy,

maybe it’s allowing myself to picture her with our family today and what she might be doing,

maybe it’s allowing myself to stare at another baby I see and remember Zoe’s tiny little fingers or sweet little nose,

or maybe it’s sitting down and writing out my feelings and what I’m learning.

Because I do have the hope of knowing I will see and hold my precious girl again in heaven one day, I have been able to commit to walking into the pain but then existing on the other side healthier than before.

I will walk into the pain, and I will walk THROUGH the pain, but I will not live in the pain.