Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds. But What Does? I'll Tell You.
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Time doesn’t heal all wounds.
Wow. It’s been 8 years. Eights years since we lost our son Jack. In one sense, that feels like such a long time. I remember thinking in the wake of our loss that I couldn’t imagine living even 5 years without my baby.
But here I am… Time doesn’t heal all wounds.
And in another sense, I know 8 years really isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things. It’s just a blip. It’s just the beginning.
But now that I’m here, what do I do? Now that I’m 8 years into my grief journey, what does it look like? I thought this week it might be helpful to share what one Christian’s grief journey looks like almost a decade after loss.
Hi, I’m Kathy. 👋🏼 And in case we haven’t met before or this is your first time here visiting New Mercy Moms, I’ll share a little bit of my story.
The beginning of this post contains triggers.
So here is your trigger warning. Feel free to skip ahead and scroll down to the more reflective section on highs and lows, or you may check out another post entirely (this is one of my personal favorites). No shame. I totally get triggers.
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A little bit of my story
About 8 years ago we unexpectedly lost our son Jack. I had what seemed like a really healthy pregnancy. I went into labor 1 day before my due date. I had what felt like an extremely hard and long labor (24+ hour labor, almost 4 hours of pushing) and lots of throwing up. But our baby was born! Just as quickly as we discovered that he was a boy, we learned that he wasn’t breathing. He let out a small cry then started to fade.
In short, our baby Jack was born with Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, which is where his diaphragm had a hole in it and his abdominal organs formed inside his chest cavity, smushing his lungs and pushing his heart to the right side of his chest.
Even though they were extremely hard, I thank God for the precious 2 weeks we had with our son.
Highs
So there’s been some time since all of this happened. There’s been some time for me to process my grief and loss. It’s hard to say “highs”, but as I’m reflecting and doing a little soul searching, what are the “highs” (or maybe a better way to say it is “slightly positive”)?
I think it’s kinda what I just said. The slightly positive thing about this 8th year anniversary time is that I’ve had a decent amount of time to process, grieve, and heal.
Has time healed these wounds? Ha! No way! But I suppose time has given me space to heal. Time has given me more opportunities to lean into Jesus and be healed by him.
What do I mean by that? Well, first I’ll share what it doesn’t mean.
Time has not made me forget.
I remember practically everything. At least I think so. I have a lot of pictures, journal entries, and what I call “memory things” that I bring out this time of year when I feel like I have the space to grieve again.
I’m really thankful time hasn’t made me forget. At least not yet. I remember that being a fear of mine early on. I’d rehearse every little thing often just so I wouldn’t forget.
A few weeks after we lost our son, I found myself on an airplane to visit family for the holidays. I happened to sit next to an older lady, and with my eyes still being puffy and red from all my weeping, I couldn’t help but share the recent loss of my son. After a moment of silence, she said, “I lost my first baby too. I’m not sure if this is a comfort, but you’ll never forget them. She’s the first person I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about before going to sleep.”
And it has been a comfort. (I wish I could find her and tell her thank you.)
I was just thinking… I can’t forget my baby because I love him so much. But even though I can’t remember him perfectly or love him perfectly, it’s a reflection of God’s love for his children. Even just one child.
In the Bible in John 6, Jesus said all that the Father has given me he won’t lose.
But I said to you that you have seen me and yet do not believe. All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out. For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me. And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day. (John 6:36-39 ESV)
My love for my baby and desire to never forget is only a shadow of God’s great love for his children and his inability to forget a single child.
This makes me think of the story Jesus told of the good Shepherd who sought out the one lost sheep.
Another high or positive is that I’ve been able to have more happiness these days. Not really during the hard anniversaries, but in general on the day to day. I feel like God has given me purpose in my pain and purpose to my pain. I’ve felt like I’ve been able to grieve fully and deeply, and even though I still grieve often, I feel like I can almost give myself permission to experience some happiness and joy again without guilt.
I know that probably sounds weird. Someone who’s a grief counselor may have a technical term for it. But it’s like I couldn’t let myself be happy because I had to show how precious my child is by my deep and prolonged grief.
This started changing about 3 or 5 years into my grief journey. And gradually – I mean very gradually – my capacity to experience the positive things in life, thank God for them, and even celebrate them began to grow.
Do I still experience grief? Keep reading. You’ll see.
Do I experience more happiness and joy? Yes, Jesus has given me time, space, and capacity to feel like I can without guilt.
So I guess, in summary, the highs or positives of 8 years is seeing how God has helped me remember my child, given me time to process a lot of my grief, and helped me feel like I can freely enjoy the better moments in life.
Lows
Not long after my loss, someone described grief like waves: in the beginning they’re huge and back to back, but as time goes on they may decrease in size or space out in timing. Although, the big and deep wave may come along too.
That’s been me this week, especially yesterday.
The fresh wave of grief knocked me down. And it was so hard because I felt like I should be “above the water,” and wondered if my family was thinking that too.
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Even though it wasn’t the case, I imagined my family might be thinking, Why is mom so snappy? Why won’t she be with us? Why does she keep going off by herself?
I was afraid to ask if it was true. I knew if I tried to talk about it that I’d break down in tears and I didn’t want to do that. I felt like me breaking down and revealing the real pain I had inside would ruin celebrating the birthday of another of my children.
What I want my family and close friends to know on my hard days
This is what I want you to know: I’m so sorry.
I’m having a hard time being happy and sad at the same time. Happy because of my living child’s birthday and that I’m with people I love. Sad because of hard memories of my late child and I miss him so much.
When I’m happy I feel bad that I’m not able to be sad. When I’m sad I feel bad that I’m not happy.
It’s a downward spiral.
But I thank God for the gift of time and space.
After we put the kids to bed, I went into our closet – the only place you can talk and not be heard in the rest of the house – and cried. I brought out our photo book and memory things and was able to grieve again deeply. I brought out my old devotional journal that I had done periodically in the weeks and months after our child’s death. I reread a couple of the entries and prayers and remembered the deep pain and the hope that buoyed my soul in the wake of loss.
And what can I say? What helped me then is what’s helping me now – Jesus.
Sometimes these days I can get caught up in the cares of the day to day and forget what I should really cling to. But when the waves of grief knock me to the ground again and I feel like my head is barely above water, where do I turn? What can help me? Have I let go of my anchor?
In summary of the lows: I still struggle. I’m still broken. It still hurts.
Lessons
I think Jesus, in his kindness, allows me to experience fresh grief to push me back to himself. This keeps me from pursuing things that are worthless compared to him.
For example, I really love web design. Recently, I’ve been dreaming big and working hard on it. And maybe it’s easier for me to do work because I can stuff my emotions, and emotions are hard for me right now. That might be an okay respite for a short time, but not healthy or sustainable for much longer.
But I’ve found what you invest your time and energy into, your emotions will follow. It’s not a bad thing, just something to notice… kinda like a thermometer – it doesn’t set the temperature, it just tells you what’s going on. I found myself having a hard time seeing the beauties of Jesus and my need for him.
But when I felt the deep pain of child loss afresh and the waves of grief came over me and caused my heart to break open those old wounds and bleed like new, I was on the road to despair.
I didn’t want to go back there.
So I grabbed what’s kind of like a plaque at a historical site. Some people miss them, and some people savor them. (The Bible calls this an Ebenezer. Funny name, I know, but totally memorable) For me last night, that was my devotional journal.
I saw where I had been:
The entry was only 9 ½ weeks after my baby’s birth, less than 2 months since he passed.
I saw what God was doing:
I was sorrowing deeply, but I was longing for Jesus’ presence in heaven.
More quickly than the first time, God refreshed my hope in Jesus and renewed my heart with the joy of his presence.
The truth of this verse echoes throughout my life:
“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” (Psalm 73:26 ESV)
In summary of the lessons I’ve learned: Jesus is still who I need, year after year, and he is a sure help in time of need.
"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling." Psalm 46:1-3 ESV
"Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need". Hebrews 4:14-16 ESV
[God is speaking] "Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him; I will protect him, because he knows my name. When he calls to me, I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will rescue him and honor him. With long life I will satisfy him and show him my salvation". Psalm 91:14-16 ESV
"In my distress I called upon the Lord; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears. Then the earth reeled and rocked; the foundations also of the mountains trembled and quaked, because he was angry. Smoke went up from his nostrils, and devouring fire from his mouth; glowing coals flamed forth from him. He bowed the heavens and came down; thick darkness was under his feet. He rode on a cherub and flew; he came swiftly on the wings of the wind. He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him, thick clouds dark with water. Out of the brightness before him hailstones and coals of fire broke through his clouds. The Lord also thundered in the heavens, and the Most High uttered his voice, hailstones and coals of fire. And he sent out his arrows and scattered them; he flashed forth lightnings and routed them. Then the channels of the sea were seen, and the foundations of the world were laid bare at your rebuke, O Lord, at the blast of the breath of your nostrils. He sent from on high, he took me; he drew me out of many waters. He rescued me from my strong enemy and from those who hated me, for they were too mighty for me. They confronted me in the day of my calamity, but the Lord was my support. He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me". Psalm 18:6-19 ESV
Looking forward
So now what? If time doesn’t heal all wounds, what does? Jesus. I know that can sound trite. But it’s not meant to be. How can I be shallow in something like this? I can’t. But I’m telling you the truth. I’ve just begun to experience the healing found in knowing Jesus over these last 8 years. As I get to know Jesus more through suffering, I am learning to trust that he will heal these wounds because he is currently slowly healing them.
Now I feel like I can really celebrate again on the happy days. I also believe that by God’s grace I’ll more quickly re-find my hope and healing again in Jesus on my hard days. This is the pattern I’ve seen slowly happen over the last 8 years.
I still feel a little shaky and maybe close to tears, but it is a very hard month for us. But, gracious! I really want to celebrate and praise God for what he has given us!
I’m still amazed that through sorrow God can move my heart to praise. It’s something that has taken many, many years.
Remembering and struggling has renewed my fire to want to help other moms who’ve suffered similarly. Do I still feel inadequate? Absolutely. Do I feel the need afresh and see how Jesus helps and heals? Yes! 🙌
"All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us." 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NLT
Soli Deo Gloria,
Kathy
As a mom who’s suffered the loss of my baby, I know deep heart pain.
I tried to run from God, but he convinced me of his love and comforted my heart with hope and healing in Jesus.
Now, it’s my mission to share this same comfort with others who’ve experienced the pain of miscarriage and infant loss.
— Kathy
What do you think?
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