adminIdentity is something I have struggled with my entire life. Most of the time
Ephesians 2
my Identity was consumed in the season of life I was in. When I was a
missionary kid, I lived and breathed that identity. I didn’t try to understand how being a missionary kid fit into who I was, I fit myself into what I thought it was to be a missionary kid. That season turned into being a college kid, then a wife, then a mother, and so on. Then after my children came, the identity issues got worse, I began to wonder if I had any identity at all, or was I only a wife and mother and nothing else. This bled into my relationships, especially my marriage and motherhood. Because when I wasn’t with my husband or my kids I felt lost and empty.
Maybe you have a similar story. Maybe you feel lost in that, or maybe like me, you believe that is enough… but Is it?
When I was in college I wrote a paper about how we do not have a traditional coming of age ceremony in American culture. Which is strange because America is the big melting pot of cultures, and almost every other culture/country does have coming of age ceremonies and/or rites. But we don’t.
All across the globe there is some rite, or ritual, to mark the moment that a person transitions from childhood to adulthood. The moment when they put childish ways behind them, and step into carrying the burdens of themselves and their part in their community.
I had wondered many times what exact moment did I cross over from being a girl to being a woman. I could have easily picked anything from turning 18, getting my first job, getting married, etc. And honestly, that moment of walking headlong into womanhood, would likely be a different story of us all.
Psalm 34
Nothing was wrong. I had no symptoms to warn me, but I felt my baby less. I remember describing it as, “feeling less pregnant”. that energy of connection to my baby seemed dimmer. I told myself everything was fine. Because a little anxiety is normal. The day finally came to hear that heart beat.
What they don’t tell you about miscarriage is that you know before the doctor/midwife says anything. you can see it on their faces. you can hear it in words like, “It’s usually hard to find this early, let me try a different angle,” “baby is being stubborn today,” “let me see if we can find it with the internal ultrasound.”
I don’t remember if I looked in my husband’s eyes while we waited for the O.B. to conduct the ultrasound. I was terrified to see fear there. I was terrified he’d see the fear in me. Look straight forward, shut off all unnecessary bodily functions, especially thinking. No heart beat.
The second the ultrasound screen came on I knew he was gone. gravity intensified over my entire body. The only true physical feeling I had was the internal ultrasound inside my body and the burning I felt in my eyes. And in an instant I realized my lack of dignity in that moment.
Why did it have to be like this? Why did I have to hear this news laying on my back, half naked, with a mechanical rod inside my body. why was there a stiff sheet covering the body of my son still nestled safely inside me.
They left the room to give us privacy. We held each other tightly, we cried. I don’t remember what was said, I don’t know if anything was said. It was over.
In that Instant, the girl Inside me died, and I was a woman. A broken woman. That was the first time that I felt like all of the things I had built my identity and purpose on, didn’t help me. Being a missionary kid, college student, wife, and even being a mother didn’t prepare me to lose what was most precious to me… my son. The girl who longed to be a mother turned into a woman with no purpose or Identity.
2 days after the surgery to remove my baby’s body from me my husband and I were scheduled to lead worship at a nearby church. Out of numbness we kept the appointment. Mostly because canceling was an action and continuing with the plan was auto pilot. We chose auto pilot.
My husband in all his wisdom chose the perfect song, as he always does. “Worth It All” by Rita Springer. The song talks about how God is going to make it all worth It in the end. And then I realized, my son’s life served a purpose, and one day I would know what that purpose was, and I found hope.
2 Corinthians 2
I will never forget the moment I became a mother. When I saw that little pink line on that pregnancy test I instantly knew I would put my baby before myself, always. And I think that is an important step to becoming a woman. We become responsible for someone other than ourselves. We become care givers, teachers, healers, defenders, mentors, and so on.
My mother was raised by a woman who took on the burden of raising her little sister when they both became orphans at young ages. She turned her pain into a pathway to become a woman and care for her baby sister, my mother, who was only 10 years old.
My first baby was my son, Noah. I never got to hold him in my arms. He was the one who made me a mother, made me a woman, and I treasure him to this day. And I promised myself more than a decade ago now, that his life would not be In vain. And I would serve God and this world in his honor.
it is because of him that I serve bereaved families as a doula, photographer, and more. And I never expected that to bring me as much joy in the midst of the heartache as it does. And I also never thought it would help me heal and also see God’s power in my own life.
I love a good cry, and I cry at every sad sappy commercial and Pixar movie. But the weird thing about me is; I seldom cry at goodbyes, even the long goodbyes. I seldom cry at funerals. And I have always despised that about myself. And been confused by it too! Until the first time I served a bereaved family and I was able to walk alongside them through that without crying my way through it. And then I went from despising It, to rejoicing and praising God for It!
One of my many rewards for this incredible work was when one of the families I served asked If I would like to hold their baby who had just passed. I lifted that sweet baby girl into my arms and treasured her precious form. I admired every tiny detail telling them what a beautiful baby they made, and then I bent down and whispered into her ear, “give Noah a hug for me”. And like a tin can with a string attached I felt like I had touched heaven as I held her. And I will always treasure
that in my heart until I get to give him a hug myself.
Journal and pray some thoughts about your Identity and the lies you have given too much power to. Submit these lies to your creator and overwhelm them with truth about who God Is, who He has created you to be, and what that means. Try praying through Psalm 51 If you are struggling to find the words.