Grief at 10 Years

As I continue to process the last few years with Judah, how my approach to his illnesses and medical care has changed, how my approach to God and relationship with Him has changed, I realize that I haven't given much thought to grief. At least, not intentionally. Grief is very much a part of our lives, and it still ebbs and flows in the day to day of our "normal". But my relationship with grief is something else that has changed gradually over the years. I wrote this in October of 2009:

I believe it's one of the most effective methods God uses or allows to get our attention, to draw us closer to Himself, and to increase and intensify our desire to be Home with Him. We're supposed to live with an eternal perspective, and hurting in this life definitely serves to make me more acutely aware of that. Grief is a powerful tool that God can and does utilize to deepen intimacy with us; and then bring us to the point where we can more effectively encourage and minister to others because of the grief we've experienced and He's brought us through....eventually. The timing of that will be different for each person, in each situation. So, I've made the conscious decision to continue to embrace the grief that I experience over Judah. As well as any other grief God allows into my life, because I know that as I embrace it, and run to God with it, He will accomplish His good work in me. I will grieve, mourn, and lament as only a believer can, because I know what this world was meant to be, groans for and longs to be, and what this world will someday be. And who I will someday be!

I made a decision to embrace my grief and allow God to use it to shape me for His glory and reach others for Him. Buuut...in the last few years, as Judah has gotten older...as his fear and anxiety have increased...as I've come to believe that Judah has Complex PTSD and what that looks like during different appointments, labs, or tests...he and we have been through some really, really hard things that I can't forget. (I don't know if he remembers specific things or not.) At the time I wrote that, I couldn't have known what things we would experience or the fact that things would actually get harder in some ways as Judah grew up. But having read what I have up to this point, even if I could have had a glimpse into the future, I think I would have made the same choice. I think I still would have reached out to the only One Who could sustain and rescue and comfort. 

I imagine that living with the pain of grief and the circumstances we have with Judah is somewhat like living with chronic pain. After awhile, you're just tired of it. You just want it to end. You want a different outcome, or you want to be able to have a different expectation. Some days you can rally yourself and pep talk yourself into a good day; and other days you're not sure you can take another minute, and the discouragement is overwhelming. There are good days and bad. Really good and really bad. Overall, our days are mostly good, thank You, Jesus.

When I reflect over the years of appointments, labs, tests, and procedures I see that as Judah became more aware and fearful of what was going on, I became more anxious and desperate to figure out how to comfort him and protect him from the inevitable. I started guarding my heart and shutting down the part that really feels so I could get him (and me) through the next thing. And, most recently, I have looked for ways to get out of appointments. Once upon a time, I would NEVER miss anything! Now I see myself trying to retreat into a place of "safety" so I don't have to be there when Judah is really anxious, etc. It's easy to use the excuse that he's really too big for me to hold down or still for labs anymore anyway...but the truth is that I don't want to be there to hear it. His voice tears me apart when he's panicked. And now that this is out in the open, I feel incredibly guilty that I would actually choose to stay away, not be there...that I would willfully allow him to go through something without the one person that he is closest to, wants comfort from the most, and is most understood by. (This is absolutely not an indictment of any kind against Jared or his involvement. He's an extraordinary husband and dad.)

I think I'm finding that grieving becomes more complex as the years go by. And the way I choose to deal with it directly impacts my own emotional health, my relationships, and my ability to stay in it with Jude. 

Some things stay the same. It's incredible - SO MUCH FUN - to watch Judah on stage for school programs. He absolutely lights up, because he LOVES music and performing! But that moment when I see how different he is from every other kid up there... Still hard. The gap between him and his peers continues to widen in the areas of emotional and social development. How he interacts with the world around him. How he perceives things. Still hard to watch sometimes. Getting dressed, brushing his teeth, taking care of bathroom things - independence is hard for him. Not one thing comes easily or naturally to him. That's hard. It makes me sad. I will always grieve over the things he will forever face medically. 

Judah just came over and sat down by me. Real close. I'm writing about grief, and he gives me a giant smile and leans in for a kiss. Then bounces back up and starts whistling for his "puppy". Side note: he recently learned how to whistle, and now whistles almost constantly. He's got about 3 notes. The kids are starting to lose their patience, so of course I remind them of all the "annoying" phases we suffered through with them. Ha! I guess Judah coming over is a "sign" that now is not the time to get too serious about this business. He's healthy right now. He's freaking hilarious. OFTEN. He completely melts my heart with his affection and tenderness for his mama. His smile. Oh my gosh, his smile!

Setting aside my thoughts on grief for today and choosing joy.