After several moments of utter disbelief and questioning, he confirmed the truth: my baby had died. I proceeded to experience the greatest sadness of my entire life. I have never missed Will more than I did in that moment.
Finally, at 9 p.m., Will called from Kuwait. “So how’d it go?!?!” he asked, completely unaware.
I delivered the news. It was terrible. He was so devastated. He began grieving the loss of our baby as well as wrestling with the thoughts of me going through this grief alone and being without him at night.
I spent most of the night being either numb or sobbing. It’s a pain I’ve never experienced before. My emotions are frail, but I have been surrounded by the kind of support you could only dream of in a crisis. My constant tears have dried up, and I have clarity and peace. I long to see this sweet angel and I know one day I will. He/She is in heaven, whole, and complete with Jesus.
I never thought I would watch my husband deploy and then five days later be told that our unborn baby has died. If it happened to someone else, I would have thought that I could never handle such blows. Through it all the pain, the sadness, the anger, the frustration one thing is clear. God is Sovereign. He still reigns. He still loves. He still comforts. I will praise him in this storm.
Lord, in times of trial, may I cling to the truth that you still reign.
“The LORD upholds all those who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down.” (Psalm 145:14)
August 20
MEN DOWN
February 9, 2009.
I knew this day would be coming but I had no idea it would be this bad.
From the Associated Press:
A suicide car bomber struck a U.S. patrol in northern Iraq on Monday, killing four American soldiers and an Iraqi interpreter in the deadliest single attack against U.S. forces in nine months.
Yes, these were soldiers from Will’s battalion.
My stomach turned. I knew this meant that Will would be thrust into the most difficult challenge of his life so far. I knew the weight he would have to bear for the almost 1100 soldiers in his battalion would be heavy. I wanted to hug him. My stomach turned for the families. My stomach turned for the unit. Later in the day, Will emailed again and said that he watched the fourth soldier die in the hospital with his own eyes.
I spent Monday in a daze. I searched desperately online, trying to find more details and more information. Before bed, Will had written me to tell me about the ramp ceremony (where they load the remains on to the airplane for travel back to the U.S.). I knew he was involved in that, and I ached for him. He was exhausted and drained, which I could tell by his emails. There was more work to be done, so our e-visit was quick. I wanted to hug him again.
On Tuesday, he sent me the news that left me speechless… breathless. One of the four killed was his battalion commander the leader. OH MY…. NO! All four of the soldiers’ lives were precious and not one is valued more than the other. But the leader? I cannot believe it happened. I knew this guy and he was an amazing leader. This battalion has been rocked to the very core. How can I be consumed with trivial things like laundry or runny noses when such tragedy has just occurred? How is it possible that I am sitting in my beautiful, comfortable house when my husband is in the midst of crisis so far away? Oh, why can’t I be close enough to hug him?
Lord, when life doesn’t make sense, help me wait on you.
“We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield.” (Psalm 33:20)
August 21
MEN DOWN PART 2
February 9, 2009.
Then I learned more. Will was the one who identified the bodies at the hospital. This threw my stomach in turns again. My sweet husband’s beautiful brown eyes were the ones that saw these damaged bodies of his fellow soldiers, his brothers. Such a horrific sight cannot possibly ever be forgotten. I wanted to turn back time, erase this pain, remove such sadness and grief from his mind, from the entire battalion, and from all the families.
Then I learned that he almost went on that convoy that killed our heroes. He wouldn’t have been in that same vehicle, but likely the one behind it. He said it was a very frequently-traveled road. Reality has set in for me.
I asked about the ramp ceremony. In his own words:
I led the whole battalion information to the ramp of the aircraft, positioned myself front and center of the ramp, and waited for everyone to get into position. Once the 4 FLAs (Field Ambulances) positioned themselves and the pallbearers unloaded the transfer cases, I marched out to meet them halfway down the run way. Once they got close to me, I did an about face and led the procession through the “honor corridor” (made by a split battalion formation on either side) to the ramp while reading Psalm 23 out loud. Once we got to the ramp, I paused for them to get into position, and then moved into the belly of the aircraft. The caskets then came one by one up into the aircraft and I said one last prayer for our fallen comrades. Then I called the pallbearer detail to execute a salute, facing movement, and then forward march out of the plane. After that, the CSM called the battalion to gather around and gave a pretty inspiring speech. Then I closed out with one last prayer/blessing to those there. We concluded the ceremony by me leading the formation off of the tarmac. It was pretty moving, and I think we carried it out close to perfection.
I have been proud of Will many, many times in my life. However, I have NEVER been more proud of him than I am today. He has performed his chaplain duties with such patience, comfort, and compassion. He is empty, drained, exhausted, and mourning… but Christ is his rock and because of that, Will is being a rock to his brothers.
God is the same today as He was before Monday. He is still good. He still reigns. He is with us and with them. Good CAN come out of such a tragedy.
Lord, thank you that your goodness and sovereignty never change. Help me see your purpose in the midst of pain.
“May your unfailing love rest upon us, O LORD, even as we put our hope in you.” (Psalm 33:22)
