The loss of my baby girl - finding courage in deep grief

Up until recently I viewed myself as fortunate. I'd never had to say good-bye to a grandparent or a pet to death, nor had I experienced the deep heartache that is associated with such. 

Then I experienced my third miscarriage, the loss of my baby girl. Interestingly enough, it took three miscarriages for me to fully digest and feel the grief associated miscarriage #1 and #2. 

I've had people ask me, "How can you be so connected to someone that you never actually met? How can you feel sadness over a pregnancy that only lasted a few weeks?" For these people, my heart grieves for THEM. They don't have the emotional intelligence to comprehend what true love is. I don't need to have met my babies to know I love them deeply. I don't need to have carried my pregnancies to full term to know my life has changed without my babies in it.

The reality is, losing someone you love can cut into your heart so viciously it forever redefines who you are and how you think. It’s what I refer to as deep grief.

Even when you love God and believe in His promises, even when you know without a doubt that some day you will see your loved one again, even when you know hope is still there, even when you know He is near....

It takes time.  It takes wading through an ocean of tears. It takes prayer. It takes making the decision to stop asking for answers and start asking for perspective. 

I'm told one day I will take off the blanket of deep grief. I'm told I will one day fold it neatly and tuck it away. I eagerly anticipate that day. I can't wait for a day where I no longer hate or resent my infertility circumstance, my lost babies or my deep heartache.

Don't get me wrong, underneath this blanket of grief wondrous things have happened over time. Such things include the courage to start this blog, which could only have come about because the Divine Hope intersected my heartache.

The things is, I DO hate my infertility diagnoses. I hate my body for forsaking me. I hate that my babies are in heaven looking over me instead of me looking over them here on earth.

How do I learn through the pain? 
How do I become more empathetic through the pain? 

REMINDER FOR TODAY:
Psalm 30:11-12a, "You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy, that I might sing praises to you and not be silent." (NLT)