Fear and Darkness

Who am I right now? At this very moment in time, who am I? Am I a child of God? Am I a husband? Am I really a father? Do these labels actually mean something in my life? I’ll answer that later. I’ve had a lot of time to think about who I am and what I’m feeling, and I know for sure that these names hold very much meaning for me, but I’m still working it all out. I know I have anger at times, and rage, and fear, and all emotions in between. How do I talk about those things without completely scaring off people and worrying my family and friends? Maybe I just tell it like it is and let others judge for themselves. I wrote the following about two weeks ago, maybe longer, and I’ve had some time to think about it, but I want to post it here anyway, because it’s important to see the progression of what I’m going through. Please understand if you are reading this, you may read something that makes you uncomfortable and you may see something that you never thought you’d see come from me. Just a fair warning – dark tunnels ahead.

There is an anger, a rage that comes over a man when he feels out of control. When uncertainty reigns and nothing is as it should be, a beast awakens. I am a man, a husband, and yes, a father. I’m supposed to be able to take care of my wife. I’m supposed to be able to protect her. I’m supposed to be able to protect both my wife and my daughter. In one completely devastating moment, I couldn’t do either of those things. That was when my world fell apart. The rest of what was left of me slowly crumbled away piece by piece over the course of 14 days. The beast is awake!!

How do I begin to heal? How do I try to heal my heart, my soul, my relationship with Whitnee? I love my wife more than my own life, and I’m constantly afraid that I’m gonna say or do the wrong thing right now and cause a fracture between us in some way. My fears are many, and this is always at the top of the list. My second fear is that I didn’t do enough to take care of Whitnee while she was pregnant, and she is afraid that she can’t trust me to take care of her now. It’s not her fear – it’s mine. Another fear I have that I will never be a man who could actually keep his family safe. I lost my daughter and I almost lost my wife. Can I truly be the man I must be? The man who loves and cherishes his family as much as I did, and currently do – this man could not save his own daughter from the monsters. What if something like this happens again? What if I can’t protect my family?

Where do all these fears come from? They come from watching my Lydia cling to life from an ICU bed. They come from a moment in time where I had a wife in one hospital and a daughter in another. They come from a doctor telling me that my wife shouldn’t be alive because of the infections she got in the hospital. They come from trying to help my daughter relax knowing that she would not. They come from getting up every morning for 14 days and feeling that ICU bracelet on my arm, not knowing if today would be my last day with Lydia. A few things that everyone needs to know – yes it’s true, Whitnee almost died as well. I almost walked out of that hospital with no daughter and no wife. I don’t know if Lydia ever really understood how much she was loved by her parents – she stopped responding to so many things pretty quickly. The day we took her off the ventilator Whitnee and I watched as she struggled to survive, and I have nightmares about her gasping for breath. I wanted to make her pain go away and I couldn’t. I couldn’t take it from her. I couldn’t make it better. That’s what daddies are supposed to do – I’m supposed to make it better! She’s supposed to be safe when she’s near me, and the only look I can remember from Lydia when I close my eyes at night is filled with pain. I imagine if she could talk she would’ve said “please, daddy, make it go away!”

I wasn’t strong enough to save her. I’ve never prayed so hard in my life for anything. I obeyed the Lord and He told us to pray for her healing. We did that, and at the time there was a moment where I felt like He wasn’t listening, and I was angry! I wanted my daughter to live!!! I’ve never been in a hole so dark and deep that I couldn’t see any light until that moment – the moment I knew she wasn’t going to survive. And, yet, in spite of all the darkness, there was a moment of light. There was a moment where I knew that the faith in the Lord Jesus that I have clung to my whole life, the truth of who God is, came into focus and spoke strength to my spirit and my body and said to me that she would be healed and whole. I know she is. I know where she is. I know the One who holds her even now. God healed my baby by taking her home to be with Him. Knowing this, however, does not diminish the sorrow of loss and the fear of what’s to come.

Lydia stopped breathing in the arms of my wife. Her heart stopped in my arms. I like to think that she gave us each a gift before she left – Whitnee her last breath, and I truly held the last beat of her heart. I’m a broken mirror, a thousand shards of glass to be cleaned up. Some days I’m just barely holding on, but I’m doing my very best to keep holding on to my wife, and my Lord,. I know He’s holding on to me.

Lifehouse has a song called Broken – I’ve printed the words below. It’s how I am right now. Things will get better.

"Broken"

The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time
I am here still waiting though I still have my doubts
I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain, there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on
I'm barely holdin' on to you

The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead
I still see your reflection inside of my eyes
That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain (in the pain), is there healing
In your name (in your name) I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin')
I'm barely holdin' on to you