Choosing Joy

Work called me yesterday and asked if I wanted to cover for the oncology and maternity social worker. I almost told them no. Babies? That’s the last thing I want to see right now, but I needed to get out of the house. Besides, I never have maternity cases. Oncology always keeps me busy. To be honest, the past few days have been hard. I’ve kinda crawled into a hole and sat. I haven’t felt like choosing joy. I’ve chosen to focus on my pain, on what went wrong, and on what I didn’t have. I spoke with my mother who reminded me to live. I know it sounds silly to have to be reminded to cherish what I have. To tell me it’s okay to grieve Henry but to live for God’s glory. To tell me I need to be present for Benjamin and my husband. And to remind me not to allow Satan to have an inch. I woke up yesterday with a pep in my step. I was determined to choose joy and live. When I got to work, I noticed a mother I needed to see. She was in her 3rd trimester and had been in the hospital a few days so I wanted to check on her. When I called the nurse she told me that this mother tested positive for drugs, has multiple kids she doesn’t see, had no prenatal care, doesn’t know who the father of the child is and doesn’t want the baby. My first reaction was to go upstairs and punch her in the face. This woman had no prenatal care! She smoked crack while pregnant! And she has a healthy baby kicking in her womb! But I prayed for Henry before he was even conceived. I ate organic.  I gave up Diet Coke. I did everything right and Henry died! On the way to the maternity floor, I prayed for softness. I prayed to glorify God. I prayed I would honor Henry. By the time I reached this lady’s room, my icy heart began to melt. As this woman told me that she didn’t want to keep this baby, the Holy Spirit gave me the strength to tell her how proud I was of her. Proud that she didn’t choose abortion. Proud that she’s going to sign custody over to someone else.  I’m not saying this to brag. Like I said, I wanted to punch her a few times. I’m saying that the Holy Spirit showed up. Because I wanted to chose joy, He made me able to do so. I left the room and spoke with the nurses. I shared my story and was able to connect with a few of them. As a mother who’s lost a son, one of the most therapeutic things for me is to tell Henry’s story. I love to talk about my second born. I love when people recognize him as the person he was. When people don’t say anything about him, it breaks my heart. Today, I was given the opportunity to share what the Lord is doing BECAUSE of Henry. And I pray that this is only the beginning. Today was a small victory. The road has been hard and windy. I go from happy to distraught in .5 seconds. One moment I’m raising my hands praising the Lord, the next I’m heaving and wondering why God took my son. And I think both reactions are okay. One thing I’ve learned is that no matter how I feel, I have to go to God with it. Even if my thoughts are ugly and my questions are trivial. I see pregnant women all the time and wonder why me and not them. I in no way wish this on them, but I wonder why God chose me? My son? I want to hold Henry more than anything in this world. I would give up just about anything to have him tucked safely in my womb, but he’s not there. God chose Henry as a way to glorify Him….If I let Him. I know one day this will all make sense. That it’s just a piece of the story. And I take great comfort that in 10,000 years I’ll be praising The King with Henry by my side.  And I’ll know....I'll know that while this was brutally hard and a road I did not choose, it will have been “light and momentary in comparison to the glory that far outweighs it all.”

Henry

Jeremiah 1:5 Before I formed you in the womb I knew you. And before you were born I consecrated you.

I knew something was wrong from the moment our Henry was conceived. I chalked it up as my usual neurosis, but something kept preparing me. Something kept me praying more than usual, fearing more than usual. When I started to bleed, I knew he was gone. When I say I felt prepared, I was preparing myself for a special needs child. A child with a few complications. A difficult birth experience perhaps, but only My Lord and Savior could have held me tight as the doctor frantically searched for a heart beat. Less than 24 hours from that still, quiet ultrasound, I gave birth to my sweet, precious, 2^nd son Henry Carlton Dafferner.

Having a baby is such a joyous time, so full of excitement. Packing a hospital bag, waiting for your mother to arrive, being led into a somber hospital room where you know the pain has just begun is beyond brutal. When we got there, I asked for one last ultrasound. Maybe I didn’t have enough faith. I didn’t ask enough of Him. Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. Christ rose from the dead for heaven’s sake! Maybe if I boldly called upon The Great Physician, He would perform a miracle. I pleaded with God. I told Him I would give Him all the glory. That such a miracle would change so many lives. But God had other plans. My entire body was shaking as they prepped me. I was beyond scared. The pain of what was about to happen, the danger of what they were doing; it terrified me to the core. My Mom was there. My husband. The doctor, but no one held my fate in their hands. No one but My Sovereign God. I stayed up the entire night praying and the process, while gruesome, bloody and heart wrenching, went beautifully. 

When I first saw my son, I lost it. I held that precious, lifeless boy and felt so many things. Anger. Anger because God could have stopped it. He didn’t have to allow any of this to happen. Sadness. Sadness because no matter what anyone says, what anyone does, where I go, Henry is gone. This little boy who kicked and played in my womb is gone. Mad. Mad that it had to happen to me. Call me selfish, but I would wish this on someone beside myself. If God gave me the choice of Henry or one person changing for the better, I’d choose Henry. Every time. But that’s why I didn’t get the choice. I don’t know what’s best for me. For the Kingdom. I know only of my pain. My heartache. My love as Henry’s mother. I don’t know how God did it. I get that He’s God and perfect, but I don’t care how perfect you are, to give up your own Son is the ultimate act of grace.  And if God had changed His mind, like I so begged Him to with my son, Henry wouldn’t be singing glory with the angels right now. He’d be in hell, like the rest of us. I believe worship is a choice. It’s easy to jump up and down and lift your hands in praise when things are good, but how about when you are offended? When God’s perfect plan is offensive. My heart aches beyond words, but my hands are lifting sweet Henry to God, willing but not able. This entire journey has been just that-willing but not able. I so badly wanted this cup to be taken from me, but I was willing to endure what was asked. He made me able.

I know that this is just the beginning.  Christmas. Birthdays. It’s gonna be brutal. And I want to be angry and stay there. To climb in a hole and never get out. But I can’t. Anger. Tears. People.  They can’t pull me out of my hell. Only my Savior can renew my wounded spirit.  And I need Him to pull me out of my hell.  When I kissed Henry’s cold head, I was weak, but He was strong. When they took Henry away for the very last time, His grace was sufficient for me.  I can’t begin to understand the “why” of all this. I actually don’t think I’m capable of understanding it. Like I said, I’m so selfish I’d choose Henry every time if given the choice. But God loved me enough to pry my little fingers away from what was never mine. Because He knew. He knew then and He knows now. And as gut wrenching, offensive and awful as this is, I willingly raise my hands to heaven and worship My King. 

Henry’s Life Verse:

Colossians 2:6-7

So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in Him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught and overflowing with thankfulness.