Post Mortem: 15 April 2019

The cool cot at Airedale Hospital’s Sunbeam Room, our family’s refuge during our hospital stay.

NOTE: This series is a collection of my thoughts noted on my phone during the first few days after my still birth. It’s not our daughter’s full story just yet. One day, I pray, I might be brave enough to write about it in full.

Dear Self,
Give yourself time to grieve. Cry. Breathe. Eat. Cry. Sleep. Cry. Unplug and take time off. It’s OK not to talk to people. If people are around, it’s fine to tell them to shut up and just listen. Be held. Lean on someone. Get pain relief when you ache, it’s alright. Buzz for the midwife.

We’ve decided to stay another night at the hospital. I’m finding it hard to be a Christian during this particular time, when you can’t feel God or His peace, and you’re inundated with too many questions that nobody has answers to.

The God I know is a big guy, I’m confident He understands why I’m not feeling “very Christian” right now. He won’t duck when I hurtfully throw accusations and questions at him. I don’t understand why he allowed my world to stop turning while he let others’ to go on. I don’t think it’s fair, or right, and it’s completely uncharacteristic of the God that I know. All I’m certain of right now is that I’m grieving, and terribly in pain.

But hey, we may not see the God-head, but as Michael put it, we’re seeing His body move. The Church in our little town has made it possible to get my mother over from the Philippines. They have made it possible for us to go away for a few days, to recover. Non-church mums from the toddler group are going to a prayer meeting organised specifically to pray for us, our family, and our church congregation. God is moving in the background!

If ultimately, God will be glorified because of our pain, who are we to question His ways?

We have decided to give Bethany a second name, after all, despite and in spite of what happened, she is a product of, and also a promise that we will not turn our backs to a God that has control over all things, even what seems to be the most despicable and cruelest of events.

Our daughter’s name is Bethany Faith Hulland, and she has only ever known love and laughter in her 41 weeks of womb life.

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