Yesterday I yelled at God.

I didn’t intend for that to happen, but grief caught up with me.

After work, I went to Target hoping to spend a gift card I’d received for my birthday. The first thing I saw when I walked in was the most perfect little antique blue tinsel Christmas tree in the dollar spot. I’ve been keeping my eyes open for a little tree to put by Ollie’s grave for the Christmas season. It was the only one left so I grabbed it and headed towards the Christmas section.

I’d seen a Christmas ornament posted in one of the pregnancy loss facebook groups I’m in that I knew I wanted to find for our tree this year. It’s a perfect little felt ornament of a baby wrapped in a white blanket with gold stars and a little knit white hat that said “2019” on it. I found two of them left so decided to snag both, one for our tree and one for Ollie’s. Decoration! Of course, I needed to find some ornaments for Ollie’s little tree. Since it’ll be outside in the weather, I picked out a little three dollar box of cheap plastic ornaments made specifically for their miniature trees, and then found a cute little star to put on top.

That’s when it hit me. I was standing in Target picking out Ollie’s first Christmas tree but it was not what I’d hoped it’d be. This Christmas, I was supposed to be three weeks out from my due date with Ollie James still rolling around in my belly but instead, I was preparing for Christmas by picking out decorations for his grave. I could feel that little prick of grief starting and tears coming to my eyes. I let a few tears slide down my cheek then forced myself to get it together until I got to my car.

The cashier was a sweet older woman who instantly realized I was making a little Christmas tree for a baby boy. She talked about how cute the little tree was and how sweet the ornaments were. She had no idea that the tree was for my stillborn son. How could she? It’s not supposed to be this way. I just nodded, made polite conversation and hurried through checking out and towards the car.

I hadn’t even made it out of the Target parking lot before the tears came and I knew this was about to be a big wave of grief. I steered the car towards the cemetery and drove tears streaming down my face the whole way there. About five minutes out, a song that’s made me cry on multiple occasions came on the radio and the tears turned to sobs. It’s a newer country song by Luke Combs called “Even though I’m Leavin” and the chorus gets me every single time.

Just ’cause I’m leavin’
It don’t mean that I won’t be right by your side
When you need me
And you can’t see me in the middle of the night
Just close your eyes and say a prayer
It’s okay, I know you’re scared when I’m not here
But I’ll always be right there
Even though I’m leavin’, I ain’t goin’ nowhere

Luke Combs – “Even Though I’m Leavin”

I pulled into the cemetery and it was already dark out. Since I was by myself, I just pulled up to the section Ollie is buried in, put the car in park, turned off the radio and locked the doors.

I let the grief take over because it’s the only way to make it through it. Sometimes you can force it to wait a few minutes until you’re alone but you cannot stop it. The only way through grief is to face it head on or it just makes an even bigger mess. So I let the wave of grief hit me full force. I cried and closed my eyes hoping to feel God or Ollie close by, but I didn’t feel it. In that moment, I felt so alone. Being raised in church, the verse about God being near to the brokenhearted ran through my mind. Someone told me not long after we left the hospital to turn to God when I’m angry because He can handle all my emotions. They said to yell at Him, scream at Him, bang on His chest and tell Him how mad I was but at the end of it all, to fall into His arms and rest.

So I let God have it.

For the first time since losing Ollie, I physically yelled through sobs. Oh sure, there were many times I had prayed through tears, but this was different. I was ANGRY. I was angry that visiting my son meant visiting a cemetery. I was angry that a lifetime of hopes and dreams had to be squeezed into three days in the hospital. I never got to hear him cry or see him smile. I never got to bring him home to his nursery Andrew and I had begun preparing. I was angry that I had learned the lesson that getting pregnant does not guarantee that you will walk out of the hospital with a happy healthy baby in your arms nine months later.

When the wave of grief started to recede, I felt the anger turn back to sadness. I asked God to have mercy on me and for the love of all things holy, to just give us a break. I didn’t know how much more I could take. I slowly gathered myself and gave myself a few minutes to stop shaking so I could drive home safely.

I wish I could say that I felt God’s nearness last night but the truth is I didn’t. It’s not that He wasn’t there, because I know He was. I believe all those verses you learn in church growing up and hymns that you sang over and over until you could sing them backwards in your sleep were made for seasons of life like this. When grief has you so blinded that you can’t see anything, including God, those verses come to mind to remind your head of what your heart already knows: God is near. Even when I don’t feel Him, He’s there. Even when I yell and scream and throw a fit telling Him how my plan would have been much better than His plan, He doesn’t turn His back on me. He holds me while I scream and allows me to collapse into His arms and rest. After all, He too knows the pain of having a child die.

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed. -Psalm 34:18

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. – Isaiah 43:2