Chase Fireflies

Waiting for a Mosaic


Fourth day straight here, propped up on the pull out bed in our living room, immobile. The windows are open, letting in a soft and gentle breeze. The sunlight brightens this space, as do stunning bouquets of sunflowers, roses, and daisies. Next to me is a pile of favorite books, thoughtful handwritten cards, carefully chosen magazines, and a Starbucks, which is helping my brain think that it’s returning to a sense of normalcy.

There is also a quiet here. Free from the endless beeping of IV’s that need changed, the drone of my roommate’s TV, the scurrying around of hospital carts. Free from hearing the beautiful laughter and energy of our children, although I miss that commotion immeasurably. Free to listen to a God who wants to love on me and create the most beautiful of all mosaics from these broken pieces. His word is sustaining me.

What happened this weekend, in medical terms, was a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. There was internal hemorrhaging, an emergency surgery, and intense continual pain worse than any labor. My surgeon told me I could’ve easily lost my life. I guess these tubal ruptures are the most common cause of maternal death in early stage pregnancies, yet they are commonly misdiagnosed.

Though the recovery is daunting, what hurts most at this point is the loss itself. We are devastated. I had suspected a pregnancy for about 2 weeks prior to our actual confirmation on Monday. The baby was 6 weeks old, but we had only known about it for a few short days. Still, I had a hard time leaving the hospital, because I didn’t want to leave our baby there. It felt cold and heartless and cruel. A grave shouldn’t be a sterile operating room. If I didn’t believe that Jesus was cradling our little one now, I would be without comfort. He is perfect love.

Despite this knowledge, I can’t stop crying. I assume it’s a result of the medicine, the grief, the hormonal crash, the unmet expectations, everything. Something in me wants to seek a divergence and immerse myself in something that will numb the pain. Another part of me is a good judge and is shamed for feeling grief. I know others have hurt more. We have it so good. I suppose a more balanced view keeps all things in perspective – and – grieves well and joys well, since God’s goodness has never been challenged.

So there ya have it. Since I’m doing a stellar job crying, I think I need to match that with thanks. Here is what I will choose to joy in today:

  • My husband – I don’t have to choose to joy in you. You make me smile today and every day.
  • Our beautiful sensitive daughter
  • Our crazy curious son
  • A baby who was spared the heartaches of this world
  • Paul’s parents for graciously watching the kiddos
  • My brother for being my friend, helping me, and letting me kick his butt in Scrabble
  • The youth group students for cleaning our windows, preparing our home for our welcome, and folding toilet paper with love:) You guys are the best!
  • Church families for praying and making meals and sending notes
  • Friends who have brought the most thoughtful gifts over
  • Everyone who has left a message here – I’ve read them over and over
  • Friends who called at all hours desperate for ways to help
  • My mom for flying in today
  • Outstanding medical care
  • Medicine that takes the edge off (and causes me to dream about large whales devouring small American gymnasts:)
  • This life and breath
  • My beautiful Jesus
I couldn’t thank each of you enough for all you’ve done. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Your kindness has been beautiful.

With Love Because of Jesus,

Kristin, Paul, Selah, and Adden

10 thoughts on “Waiting for a Mosaic

  1. kristin, i hate being this far away knowing that things are so hard right now. I wish I could get someone to watch my kids, and come spend the day sitting with you, holding you while you cry, listening to your heart, praying with you, caring for you. I am so sorry for your loss. I am praying for you. My God sustain you and carry you.

  2. Wish there was something to say or do that would lessen the sorrow for you guys. I do love the whales eating gymnasts stories, though! Stupid Shamu!

  3. Simply a beautiful expression of worship on your part Kristin. I won’t use words – we love you guys and are praying for your family.

  4. Hey Kris and Paul,I’ve been away from blogs for the last week or so, but my mom had let me know about this sad event in your life.My prayers are with you both and with Kristin for a speedy recovery.Blessings…

  5. Kristin,I have been praying for you and Paul. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. Please know that I care and would love to do whatever I can to help you guys through this. If you just want company to sit with you and listen, or just sit with you, let me know.Michele

  6. kristin,this is going to come out completely wrong and i’m apologizing ahead of time. nevertheless here i go: you just (and still are)going through one of the hardest thing for a woman. and yet (although it’s difficult) you are praising and thanking God for all that he put you through. i have the hardest time praising and thanking him for little things, good and and bad. while this is really difficult for you (and other’s around you) God is doing this for a reason, to show people like me, what it’s really all about.I love you and thank God for you :)~amy~

  7. you are a truly amazing person kristin. your trust in God during this time is amazing. i love and miss you and am praying for you!anna

  8. Kristin, I see so clearly how God is working in your lives and through your lives. He is looking down on you and smiling…you are such a faithful follower and a blessing as His daughter. I am praying for you and your family.In Christ, Stephanie

  9. Thanks, guys, for all of your encouragement. Paul and I appreciate it:) Tons of love from us!

  10. Kristin,I just found out about this today even though I check your blog mostly every day to see what’s going on in your world…I don’t know why, but this is the first time any of these last few updates have showed up on my screen. I am so sorry that you are going through this…I can’t even imagine the heartache because I am tearing up just thinking about what a loss that would be. I love you and am praying that you continue to see God working in this.

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