When Words Heal

When a friend said this, it was water to my soul:
“You have a mother’s heart and that is why you grieve so much and so hard. You have a mother’s heart and that can never be taken away and that will never change.”

And my counselor confirmed that I am not crazy and I have not gone off the deep end to grieve this much and this hard. He says:
“Your grief is how you honor your babies’ lives. So your tears, in essence, are hugs and kisses that will never be given to your babies.”

And when a friend, who miscarried at four months, said this to me, it brought me to my knees:
“This baby was supposed to be born and held and kissed. You were supposed to meet this baby.”

And as I sat in her kitchen and watched her make wedding cake, a friend who delivered her baby stillborn perfectly summed up what this journey feels like:
“It’s icky.”

And when I put myself out there and shared some of the darker parts of my heart, I heard:
“I am praying for you.”

And when I went to the Lord yesterday and could only utter this:
“Heal me.”

HE said:
“I will.”