I felt as if someone beat me up and there I was standing at the starting line of a marathon knowing the gun was about to be shot off and I would have to start running. As I took the first pill to induce labor, it was as if the man pulled the starting gun, no looking back now, I had to run this race to the finish line. The struggle was in this race I didn’t even want to get to the finish line. The finish line only meant more hurt.
As
I laid in bed that night after inducing, I kept telling God I couldn’t do this
and that he had to do it through
me. I didn’t have the strength, but I knew he did. I didn’t have the emotional capacity but he did. I didn’t have the energy,
but he did. I was so scared, but he was so strong.
Because of his faithfulness He has shown us these past two weeks, I knew, confidently knew, he would carry us
through. But that didn’t mean I wanted to walk through it. I begged
him in the middle of the night if there was any other way. I remembered
Jesus in the garden, sweating blood asking God the same question. I knew
the pain I had to walk through and felt so afraid. In the quiet of the
night, he didn’t give me a way out, he only promised He would go through the
pain with me.
At
5:30am the cramps came strong enough to wake Kory up and head to the
hospital. We checked in, got our room, and went through the same steps we
remembered going through for Avery. Feelings of familiarity tried to tell
me I had been here before, but this was far from familiar. My
contractions were coming in closer and stronger. Worship music filled the
room, songs that brought tears and hope together. The song “It Is Well”
started to play and the line in the song that says, “through it all, my eyes
are on you” spoke to my soul. My eyes had to be on Him if I wanted to get
through this day. In that moment he gave me a new finish line to cross, a
purpose for the day. In this day I had the opportunity to honor Karis
well with a graceful delivery that she deserved. The task before me
allowed me to tangibly be a mommy to her and give her something special, even
though she may never know it. I also had the opportunity to give God
glory in the midst of my suffering. A lot of times as we are getting ready to
do something big whether it’s putting on a camp, gearing up for ISI, or leading
some sort of something, I’ve always told God right before we do it that this is
for him. This is my act of love for Him that day. This is how I’m
worshiping Him that day. And today was no different. My labor was an act
of worship to Him. These two reasons gave me enough strength to endure
the hours of labor. It was for God & it was for Karis.
Nurses
came in and out, tuned in to my emotional condition as much as my physical
condition. I held Kory’s hand tight as I looked into his eyes for
strength as I breathed through each painful contraction. With each
squeeze of physical pain that I felt, the squeeze of pain on my heart was hardest.
Kory read Scriptures over us from 8am to 11am. We hung onto truth as we
held onto each other.
And
then it came, time to push, the part I was most scared of. Kory saw the
fear in my eyes and he quickly began praying out loud for the Lord to comfort
us and be with us. I sobbed and screamed as I mustered the strength to
push her out. Kory’s face was pressed against mine as our tears ran
together. We let ourselves feel the heavy weight of loss. We’ve never
cried harder, and the Lord has never been closer. In such a moment of deep
pain, the Lord provided a profound moment of bonding between Kory & I that
I will hold onto. We were closer in that moment to each other and the Lord than
we had ever been. Suffering has
a strange way of deepening relationships and taking them to more intimate
depths than they have ever known.
As
we looked and held our lifeless daughter, I thought about how we were supposed
to be changing her diaper, figuring out how to nurse, hearing her cry and
watching her stretch and wiggle. We were supposed to watch her grow,
bandage her scraped knees, build sandcastles on the beach, and walk her down
the aisle. We were supposed to know her favorite ice cream and figure out
if she was sweet like her mommy or spicy like her daddy. Avery was
supposed to be a big sister and they were going to be best friends.
Through my tears I told Kory our family would never feel complete on this earth
without her. But we do not
grieve as those who do not have hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14). We have
the hope that she is home. She is complete and healed. She is
experiencing life, life to the full with Jesus in heaven. We will never
have to see her cry. We will never have to see her heart break. We
will never have to watch her endure any pain. This fallen world will
never weigh heavy on her soul. Because Karis Faith Lantz will never have
to know what pain is. She will never experience it. What joy this
brings a momma’s heart. My baby girl is taken care of; her soul is with
her Savior.
After
hours of seeing family, and soaking in our time together in the hard moments of
pain, it was time to say goodbye. Kory & I had beautiful moment with
her as we laid hands over her in her swaddled blanket. We thanked God for
her life and for how he had used her to teach us and so many, about
himself. We cried as we asked him for strength as we grieved our loss on
this side of earth. We asked him for wisdom as we still as parents of
Karis, want to honor her life and glorify God through it. We told him
that He was good and that we trust Him more than we trust what we want.
And we kissed her sweet head and told her she better be right behind Jesus to
hug us when we get to heaven. She truly is a gift of grace in our lives.
“The
Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great
delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with
singing.”
Zephaniah 3:17
“The
Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Psalm 34:18
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