Darkness and Light: Bittersweet and Incomplete, a Year Later

Note: This was supposed to be published around Christmastime, 

so when I say "now" or "last week" or whatever, that's the time frame. 

(This is lengthy. And sad. Probably not for the casual reader)

Part One: Some Backstory

The faithful readers among you (God bless you, even I get tired of reading my stuff after awhile) will recall that this time of year was not very good for me last year - the general joy of the season was overshadowed by the fact that I had miscarried a twin pregnancy in June (2012), and the due date had been Christmas Eve. I wrote about the miscarriage here and here; I talked about last Christmas Eve here, so I won't do that again, but feel free to read them if you'd like. In the Christmas Eve post, I wrote I expected that last year would be the worst, this one would be a little better and next year better than this, etc. I didn't anticipate that this year would be … what, exactly? … not as bad as last year, but worse than I thought it would be:

I don't know how common it is to talk about the contrast of light and dark during the season of Advent, and though I suppose there's a lot about Jesus being "the light of the world," I don't remember it being discussed as specifically as it has been this year, at our church - one Sunday it was back-to-back, Sunday School and then the sermon (not Matt's, our senior pastor's) on the same Bible verses without our SS class purposely following a curriculum that aligns with the pastor's. 

In Sunday School, we read some passages from Isaiah 60, John 1 and 2 Corinthians 11. The study materials asked if any of us had ever experienced complete and total darkness, like when you are deep in a cave and turn out your headlamp, or an interior room in a building with no windows or lights. I've never been in a cave at all, I don't believe, but the times I've been in the most (literal) darkness, my main feeling was one of disorientation - how in the world do you know where you are, when you have no idea where anything else is? When you can't even see your hand in front of your face, how do you find your way out? If you move, how do you know you won't fall off a cliff or something and be in even worse shape? Ah, metaphor. The phrase, "I was in a dark place" is somewhat overused in my circle of people, but I think it's accurate here - the miscarriage was about the darkest place I have ever been in, the worst I have ever felt, as if I was in that cave all by myself. I didn't know how to get out, I was so sad and scared out of my mind and really didn't understand anything or know what was going on. 

In the Belasara song mentioned in last Xmas Eve's post, there's a line in the chorus that says, "and honestly, there's a part of me, that just wants to go to sleep" … when I saw my therapist about a month after the miscarriage, she asked if I had experienced any suicidal thoughts. I hadn't; I've been through a few bouts of major depression in the past 10 years but even at its worst, I cried a lot and felt hopeless a lot, but never considered anything like that. And that was still true even after the most physically and emotionally painful experience of my life - I told her I'd had some vague thoughts of, I want to be with the babies, but from what I'd read that's really typical so I wasn't worried about it, and she agreed … I believe there is a Heaven (not too big on the concept of Hell, though) and I suppose I basically believe we all go there when we die, but please don't press me for details on the "whether too-tiny-to-see miscarried fetuses go to heaven" issue - I still have no real, definite thoughts on that.

As far as moving from darkness to light, goodness knows there are tons of examples, but for whatever reason the first thing I thought about was the story Bedtime for Frances by Russell Hoban. We love all the Frances books, and so do the boys. Matt didn't read them growing up - I guess they are sort of more for girls, but now that he's met the little badger family he loves the parenting lessons they incidentally provide. Anyway, in Bedtime for Frances, as you can likely guess little Frances is coming up with every possible tactic to delay going to bed - forgot to brush her teeth, wants a drink of water, etc. At some point Frances sees what she believes to be a giant lurking in her room, and runs to tell her parents. After her parents send her back to her room, Frances confronts the giant and realizes it is only the silhouette of her bathrobe, tossed over a chair. So the light shows us that what we thought we were justified in being afraid of, isn't so bad after all. 

Part Two: The Scriptural References:

Isaiah chapter 60: (a vision of Israel's future): (1) Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you … (4) Life up your eyes and look around; they all gather together, they come to you; your sons shall come from far away, and your daughters shall be carried on their nurses' arms. (5) Then you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice … (8) Who are these that fly like a cloud, and like doves to their windows? (9) For the coastlands shall wait for me, the ships of Tarshish first, to bring your children from far away … (19) The sun shall no longer be your light by day, nor for brightness shall the moon give light to you by night; but the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory. (20) Your sun shall no more go down, or your moon withdraw itself; for the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of mourning shall be ended. 

(Gospel of) John chapter 1: (1) In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God (2) He was in the beginning with God (3) All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being (4) in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. (5) The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it … (9) The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world … (14) And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth. 

2nd Corinthians chapter 4: (1) Therefore, since it is by God's mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. (2) We have renounced the shameful things that one hides/ we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God's word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God. (3) And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. (4) In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God … (8) We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; (9) persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed … (16) So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. (17) For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen in temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal. 

So (refer to the page, "Selfish Scriptural Interpretation" for more instances of me applying Bible verses that are really about Egypt or Israel or whatever and turning it into a personal message to me) … this makes me feel a little better. And it might help me refine my answer to the Heaven question. 

Part Three: Pretty Bird

So here's something - for all three pregnancies, Matt and I have used birds as a symbol. I think this started during my pregnancy with Simon, when Matt found some stickers in this really nice stationery store in DC, of birds and eggs and nests - no, Matt is just reminding me it started when he suggested referring to our as-yet-unborn awesome son as "Tweet" (this was before Twitter was, you know, everything). I did not care for Tweet (we went with my original idea, Little Person or LP, which I came up with about 2 minutes after I finished my positive pregnancy test - oh, there's a little person in there), but I did stick with the Mama Bird idea. Then we chose birth announcements with two parent birds and one baby bird, and a similar one for David's, as well as bird decals for Simon's nursery.

And when we found out about this pregnancy Matt got me this for my birthday:

When I put it up originally there was just one little birdie in the cage; we didn't know about the twin part until after the miscarriage had already started. The image shifted for me, from one birdie who was waiting to get out, to two that would never be getting out. I moved the decals upstairs to my desk and took them down when we moved - i haven't put them back up yet, partly because our spare room/office is in such disarray we don't know where everything will go yet. Matt got me some new ones for Christmas with the idea that I might not want to put the old ones back up; I get that but I haven't decided yet one way or another. I have a little memory box I made; there's not a whole lot in it except the little pajamas … I have resisted really doing much with it, like I was going to take the DVD of the ultrasound and print out a photo, but I haven't had the courage to actually look at the images yet. It's not …. it's not what you are likely thinking; the pregnancy technically lasted 12 weeks but all that was visible was the egg sacs (yolk sacs?) - one egg had been fertilized but then didn't grow or develop at all, and the other only developed a tiny bit and then stopped. So "nothing resembling a fetus" was what the ultrasound tech said; just tissue and blood (God, there was so much blood). 

Matt and I both love Jenny Lewis, and these are the lyrics to her song "Pretty Bird", on the album Acid Tongue. Take a listen here:

Pretty bird, pretty bird
why you so still?
pretty bird, pretty bird
we've been waiting on you

(chorus)

you go west for the black setting sun
you go south to the white spirit of earth
you go east for those real green eyes
you go for north, walk the good red road

pretty bird
there's a mirror in heaven
pretty bird, pretty bird
there's a window on earth

(chorus) 

some pity me
ooh pity me yeah
stars pity me for
the blood of the pretty
the blood of the pretty
the blood of the pretty
bird

pretty bird, pretty bird
we're starving you still

(chorus)

Disclaimer: I do not know what this song is actually supposed to be about. When I tried to find out, a commenter on the song lyrics page said she'd heard Jenny Lewis say that it was about a story she heart on public radio about a woman being raped on an Indian reservation … if that's the case I apologize for co-opting it for my own purposes, but if you know me I don't hesitate to use Bible verses to suit my own purposes (see above), so pretty much everything else is fair game too.

Part Four: Finishing Up

I started this blog about our family to possibly help anyone out there who has a child (or has received a prenatal diagnosis) with Down syndrome or some other "special need" - when we initially learned this was a possibility for David, we sought as much information as we could, and hearing from parents who had faced similar issues was helpful for the most part. It also helped me to write everything - to try to order it in some logical way so that others might understand it, and so I might understand it better myself. The same has held true for my pregnancy loss - visiting sites like cafemom.com was mostly helpful; I didn't identify with everyone but generally it was good to know that many women had the same emotional struggle, some of them multiple times. So I hope that if you or someone you know has had a miscarriage and is looking for support, that at least some of what I'm saying makes sense and is perhaps of some comfort. 

I didn't share the feelings related to the light/dark issue with Matt immediately; I didn't bring it up until (some time? I don't remember how long) later. After I told him that I was feeling sad again ("sad" is really the best word, sometimes the simplest is the best), I asked him if he ever thinks about the miscarriage any more. His reply was to the effect of, "from time to time," and he seemed genuinely surprised when I said, "I think about it, to one degree or another, every day." I don't mean to make my dear husband sound insensitive; I think this is the individual/private nature or pregnancy loss, that no one can really understand how the woman feels, and there is a sex/gender gap that is likely impossible to bridge - guys don't know what it feels like to be pregnant in the first place, and though they can see you are going through physical agony and emotional hell, they simply can't grasp the helplessness you feel as you realize something is slipping away from you and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. 

I do still think about it every day, but as I said to Matt, some days it is truly a passing thought and it's usually only if there is a specific pregnancy/baby/miscarriage-related reminder on TV, in a magazine, or online I don't usually think about it in any great depth, and I rarely cry about it, though I am a little right now. 

I don't know if the due date of Christmas Eve means I am any more sad than I would be otherwise - any time late in the year would be the holiday season, and I'm sure I would feel about as bad if the due date were October 14th or November 8th or whatever. But at Christmas there sure is a lot of talk about the baby Jesus, and that Advent is a time of "Joyful Expectation." Last week we had a guest pastor at our midweek contemporary service, and she talked a lot (A LOT) about the baby the baby the baby that is coming. I happen to like this pastor a lot- she is young and smart and lovely and a great person, but I was REALLY READY FOR HER TO STOP TALKING ABOUT "THE BABY." I was ready for her to move to a more theological standpoint, that Christmas is not so much about The Baby, it is about the Incarnation of our Savior, about God coming to earth to live among us as a human being. But I suppose I'm not going to get very far with that wish - folks will talk about it, but Christmas is about the birth and Joseph/Mary/shepherds/Wise Men/star/etc., and there's no getting away from that. 

(General grumpiness Joanna really can't explain - I really don't like talking to 

kids about Christmas in terms of "Jesus' birthday." 

Yes, it is celebrating the day he was born and yes, 

that is your birthday, but I think singing Happy Birthday to Jesus 

and having birthday cake and all is a little too much. I know this is generally harmless

 and I get it - this is something kids can relate to. 

But kids can also apparently relate to SpongeBob, and that's not anything

 I want to spend a lot of time talking about, either).

As always I will try to end on a somewhat lighter note: Simon was talking about Jesus' birthday and what we could give him as presents. I was trying to bring us around to, hey why not behave as Jesus would want us to behave (unselfish, kind, yadda yadda) and say prayers for other people and not just ourselves and that's probably what Jesus would like best. Simon was still stuck on the idea of a physical present (see, this is what happens … ) and I said to Matt yeah, it always sucks when your birthday is on Christmas 'cause you get all the lousy presents that are "for both days." So, thinking about Jesus as the first victim of a Christmas birthday made me smile. Please note, this is Joanna's thought, not Pastor Matt's. 

I have, I think, seen only one episode of the HBO series Oz. It premiered when I was in college and I remember catching it when I was home on break or a weekend. One episode of a show, 16 years ago, and every time I hear Genesis chapter 1, this is what I think of: 

• Augustus Hill: "And God said, let there be light, and there was light. But, that's easy for God to say, he was God. But for the rest of us, finding the light takes time. A lifetime."

And looking it up to get it right, I came across tons of other Oz quotes that are relevant to the matter at hand (light/dark/seeing God) but this entry is already way too long so I'll just send you to the website: tv.com:  http://www.tv.com/shows/oz/gods-chillin-61317/

And I'm really okay, just sad right now. :)