Why I still feel blessed…Friends

In the days that followed Knox’s birth, I was continually reminded of how blessed we are to have friends and family who love us so much. I’m going to be painfully honest here (not that I’m anything less any other time), but in the months prior to losing Knox, Kerry and I felt isolated. Me especially. I’ve never been one to have really close friends that weren’t family, but I was really feeling alone. I just don’t have many friends, especially friends my age.  I *knew* I had friends, but I wasn’t sure who I would call if something really bad were to happen or if something really great were to happen. But…

God has used this experience to remind me just how loved and supported we are. The large majority of our family lives in Kansas, and we were thankful some of them were able to come and care for us after we got home from the hospital. Family is so important. 

In church circles you often hear fellow church attendees referred to as your “church family”, but in some churches they don’t feel much like family. In our church though, our church family really feels like family. Our lives are inextricably woven together and we are so very blessed to have 2 “families” we are part of.

1 John 3: 17-18 says:
17 But whoever has the world’s goods, and sees his brother in need and closes his heart against him, how does the love of God abide in him? 18 Little children, let us not love with word or with tongue, but in deed and truth.
Our friends and family didn’t just love us with their words, but also with their actions. Our church family provided meals for us this whole last week. It was such a blessing to take a little stress off and be able to focus on healing.

But even more than that, we knew we were being prayed for a daily basis. We were checked in on a regular basis to see how we were doing. And not just “can I bring you anything”, but asked us “how are you doing…and we really want to know”. I could be painfully honest with those who were around me. I could cry, question, yell and just sit with them. I was able to be me without being judged or afraid of my emotions. It is a freedom that many in churches (or families for that matter) don’t feel like they have.
They were the “friends” I wasn’t sure I had before this happened. I was reminded time and again that I am blessed with friends who love me, care for me and are there for me, all the time.

I have to say, our church isn’t huge, but our church is genuine and cares for everyone who walks through the doors whether it’s your first Sunday or your 100th. We are blessed.

In addition to our church friends and family, I have been reminded of how much I am cared for by my “online” friends. One can joke about whether online friends really count…but, for the most part, I would say they do. Some I have never met, but we are tied together by the births of our children years ago or other major life events. Some our lives intertwined years ago and some are new friendships. But I have had several friends email or call to say they’re praying for me or checking to see how I’m doing. Some of you have shared personal stories, scriptures or just provided encouragement. I have been blessed to know that our story has touched others and that others are helping share our grief.

I feel blessed to know that I have a support system that many of us rarely discover except in times of tragedy. I’m reminded that God often cares for us through the ministry of those around us. I am blessed with friends and family who care for me.

You don't say…

I am amazed sometimes at how insensitive people can be to one another, and I’m going to vent about it for a minute. I lost my son Knox a week ago, the pain is still very raw. I’ve had some “well meaning” people make some really hurtful comments that I feel like I have to address in some fashion…So here goes…

First: I don’t care if you have 0 or 50 children…it is never okay to say “well maybe that’s God’s way of telling you (the mother) that you have enough children or that you shouldn’t have any more”. I don’t understand why so many people (many of them proclaiming to be Christian) are so angry towards families with lots of children. (I thought of this especially after I saw Mrs. Duggar lost her 20th child during her 2nd trimester this week and saw the hurtful comments being posted toward her.)

Children are a blessing (Psalm 127:3) and a reward from God. Most believers don’t disagree with that…until you have “too many” or it becomes “inconvenient” or “too expensive” to have children. I’ve said before that we trust God for our family size, we don’t ask God to limit our blessings in any other area (financially, health wise or any where else), so we don’t ask Him and don’t believe we should interfere with His blessing. I know not all Christians feel this way, and I don’t expect them to, but I don’t know why there is this huge animosity towards families who chose to trust God with this area of their lives. Seriously. If my children are loved and well cared for…what do you care if I have 4 or 40? And losing a child isn’t a “sign” that I shouldn’t have any more…it’s not a punishment or judgment. You wouldn’t tell a mother who doesn’t have any children that her repeated miscarriages are just “God’s way” of telling her she shouldn’t have children, so don’t say it to me.

I have been told this last week that losing our baby was “God’s way of telling me my body just couldn’t handle another baby” and “Maybe you should just be happy with the 4 children you have”. I found those comments incredibly hurtful and offensive. I was speechless to be honest (and most of you know how rare that is). A. I don’t believe anyone knows God’s will for my life but God. I believe that if I trust Him and follow Him he will guide my steps. B. I am delighted by the 4 wonderful boys I have, and I desire more children, because I view them as a blessing. I desire more because of how much I love and delight in the children I have. To insinuate that I’m not happy with the 4 children I have really irks me and is way off base.

Second: Do not tell me that it was better to lose a baby now than if it were at full term. While I (Praise God) have never lost a baby at full term, just because Knox was only 16 weeks doesn’t mean that I loved him any less than if I were 40 weeks pregnant. While physically it may be a little “easier” to give birth to a 16 week old baby and the physical recovery may be shorter…emotionally it sucks. I loved my baby from the moment I found out he was on his way. I started planning and dreaming about what kind of baby he would be. I was excited, I was delighted that I was pregnant and I was thrilled with the anticipation of another child. I grieve the death of my son. I can’t imagine the hurt a mother must feel who loses a child she has had the chance to know and hold. It is not easy to lose a child ever. Please don’t tell me it’s “easier” at any point, because it’s not.

Third: Please don’t say “He’s in a better place”. While I believe Knox is in Heaven, as a mother I can’t help but feel at times that the best place for him to be is in my arms. I rest in the fact that I will be able to see him again and I trust that God has a purpose for taking my son before he was born, but my arms still ache for him. I am selfish. I want my baby with me and I don’t understand why this happened, but I am leaning on the promises of my God. While Knox is in Heaven…and while it’s “technically” a better place than this sinful earth…it doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make me long for him any less and it doesn’t make me feel better. So please don’t tell me he’s in a better place…he’s my son and I want him here with me. Period.

Fourth: Please don’t ask me “how long is it going to take to get over it” The answer is I don’t know. And please don’t expect me to “get over it” on your time table or anyone else’s. I know it’s uncomfortable for you…it’s uncomfortable for me too, but don’t act like I should get over this quickly. Grief is messy, it’s not a neat package deal, it takes a real friend willing to “get dirty” to help me get through it.

There will always be a hole where Knox should be in our family. I will always wonder what kind of child he would have been and I think I will always feel like something is missing. I can’t pretend like this didn’t happen, I can’t and won’t pretend like he didn’t exist. He is my son, he always will be. The grief may get less intense, but I don’t think you “get over” losing a baby.

Okay…I think that’s all for my venting. It just seems to have piled up and finally gotten to me today. And for those keeping track…I think this begins my “anger” stage of grieving.

** As a side note…I wrote this post yesterday evening after I’d had a particularly difficult and angry kind of day. I feel much better today (read…not quite so angry), but still felt it necessary to post.

How are you?

I’m never quite sure how to answer this question when someone asks. I don’t know if they mean physically or emotionally or mentally or spiritually. And I’m never quite sure if they really want to know…the messy details, the pain that still sits in the middle of my chest, why I can’t sleep at night, my fears, my hope or how lost I feel.

Usually I just say “I’m fine considering” and for the most part it’s true. I’m fine. Considering…I’m tired and weak still. It takes 4-8 weeks to replace mature red blood cells so I expect it to take a bit before I feel physically “normal”. I’m taking an iron supplement (called Floridix).
I’m tired, mostly because I’m not sleeping well. I wake up in a panic thinking “Knox!” like “where is the baby?” kind of panic. It’s the same feeling I get when my babies sleep through the night for the first time. Then I realize why he’s not beside me and it hurts, I grieve, I pray and I read the Psalms. I have been able to nap some in the afternoons without waking up like that, so for those short sleeps I am thankful. I’m trying to avoid taking medication to help me sleep. I am taking an anti anxiety to help get me through the panic I feel when I wake up at night. It kind of helps. I just don’t like taking meds period.
Emotionally…I have moments. There are times when it hurts so deep that I can only choke out the words “God…please” before my grief and tears overwhelm me. Romans 8:26-27 says : 26 In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words; 27 and He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” I trust that when I can only say “Please” that the Holy Spirit intercedes for me, that God knows my heart and can meet me where I am.

There are other times that my mind is so numb and I feel so lost that I can’t think straight. I keep telling Kerry it feels like my mind is only firing on half cylinders (and most times I feel like there were only 2 to begin with). During those times I can’t make sense of the thoughts or feelings that are running through my head. I pray for clarity, I pray for peace and I pray for “order” in my mind. Sometimes, I just put on music and listen…I can’t tell you how many times this last week during my cloudy moments, the words of a hymn or worship song have come to fill the “space” that seems to exist there. Putting words to the feelings that I can’t name.

Yet there are other times that I have a few brief moments
of joy and reprieve from the grief. I feel kind of “normal”. I glean some of that joy from my children…their innocence, their pure delight in little things. I can’t help but smile and delight with them sometimes. I have a 16 month old son, who thinks he’s the funniest kid when he plays with his belly button. I have a 3 year old who delights in dumping water over his own head during bath time. I have a 7 year old who used his hard-earned “Awana bucks” to buy me a ring and was so proud to give it to me. My 9 year old wakes up in the morning to hug me hello. He has no idea how important those “good morning” hugs are to me. I am thankful for the 4 wonderful children I have. They help keep me putting one foot in front of the other. They help me stay focused. They help keep me from getting lost in the grief of losing a child. Even if it’s for a few moments each day I feel “normal”. I am trusting that I will have more of the normal as I heal.

Grieving this kind of loss is new to me. I have been fortunate in my life time to have never lost someone this close to me. I don’t know what grief should look like. I know the “stages of grief”, heck I teach them. But I don’t know what those stages will look like for me. I’m such a system person…I like step by step… I like a check list I can complete…but I’m learning I can’t move through this step by step. I’ve found that I have to let each step happen…it’s not easy for me. I’ve also found that the lines between the “steps” blur, I will move back and forth, I have to trust that God will help me move through and navigate the path of grief that is before me. I trust that His will is being done in my life. He has a plan…He doesn’t have to tell me what it is…He doesn’t have to tell me why. I have to trust Him. I have to keep clinging to Him and seeking refuge in Him. I can’t rely on myself, or my kids, or my husband, or anyone else to bring me through. It is God who will guide me and heal my broken heart.

I have found great comfort in Psalm 34 today…
1 I will bless the LORD at all times;
His praise shall continually be in my mouth.

I will praise Him, even in my grief. He has blessed me and for that I am thankful.

4 I sought the LORD, and He answered me,
And delivered me from all my fears.

I have fears about whether God will bless me with more children, I have fears about whether my body will be able to carry another baby. I am fearful about what the future holds. I fear that I will never heal from the enormity of this loss. But I will continue to seek God, even when it doesn’t feel like it, I have to trust that He will deliver me from my fears.

8 O taste and see that the LORD is good;
How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!

Refuge means: to a place of shelter, protection, or safety. 3. anything to one has recourse for aid, relief, or escape.
I will seek my escape, my relief, my protection in Christ.

18 The LORD is near to the brokenhearted
And saves those who are crushed in spirit.

I am so broken hearted. My spirit feels crushed at the loss of Knox. But I am comforted knowing that God is close to me. I know that He is walking with me through this, His arms are around me. He is patiently guiding me and slowly allowing me to heal. He will deliver me to the other side of this hurt.

Philipians 4 reminds me…
4 Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice! 5 Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near. 6Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I trust in that. I will continue to heal both physically and emotionally. So yes, I’m fine considering…

What happened? Our Birth Story…

I write to process things that are rolling around in my brain and happening in my life. This last week has been the hardest week I have ever had to endure as a wife and mother. It’s something I would never wish on anyone. Ever. But I have had so many things rolling around in my head that I feel the need to process them by writing. What follows is our story leading up to the birth of our 5th son Knox. I write it more for myself, so that my child won’t be forgotten and so that I can capture what the events of the last week have meant to me. I plan to include these blog posts in his baby book. I share this story so that you can know too and that hopefully my journey and pain will help someone move through theirs too.

We found out we were pregnant with Knox on Labor day. We told the boys after we’d spent the afternoon at Garden of the Gods. They had been praying for a baby for weeks and we were excited to share the news with them. My early pregnancy progressed much like my others have. We experienced an early loss in 2009 at 6 1/2 weeks (prior to the birth of Titus) so I breathed a sigh of relief when we passed that mark. I usually don’t have a lot of nausea in early pregnancy, just a lot of fatigue and not wanting to eat, which is how this pregnancy was and how I felt. I made appointments with my midwife and chiropractor. My labs and exams were fine. We heard his heartbeat without difficulty at home around 8 weeks and at our 12 week appointment with the midwife. We prayed daily for the baby as a family. We prayed that the baby would grow and be healthy and be born at home. The two middle boys (Otto and Zeke) prayed for a baby sister and Gabe would pray for a baby boy. I started to feel the flutters of little kicks and rolls and I started to show around 12 weeks.
We took a planned trip back to Kansas over Thanksgiving week to attend the funeral of Kerry’s grandmother and spend time with our family. Just before we left of Thanksgiving I told work that I was expecting in May.
While we were in Kansas, I had this feeling that something was wrong. I couldn’t pin point it, but I told Kerry that I was worried. I hadn’t felt the baby move as much as I had been, but I passed it off as I was still early (about 15 weeks pregnant) and perhaps we had been so busy I hadn’t paid as much attention as I had been at home. I also noticed that my cravings for spicy food and food aversions had stopped. I passed it off as “I’m in the second trimester and I’m supposed to be feeling better”.
The night we got home (Sunday 11/27) I tried to hear heart tones, but couldn’t find them. I tried not to worry and thought maybe the baby was just turned. But I tried again several times on Monday and never heard even a hint of a heartbeat. I emailed our midwife and another friend of mine on Tuesday and started calling around to see how I could get in for a sonogram to check on the baby. Our sonogram was scheduled for Thursday evening at 5pm. I was so nervous going in. I was praying that everything would be fine, that it was just a defective doppler or something. Anything but what I suspected.
I could tell when the sonographer looked that something was wrong. The baby didn’t look like he had enough room, it looked really cramped and he wasn’t moving. She took some measurements first and then looked for a heartbeat. I couldn’t see the flutter I was hoping to see in his chest. Just empty space. Nothing. My heart sank. She checked again. Still nothing and reluctantly she told us there wasn’t a heartbeat. I tried not to cry. I could tell she didn’t know what to say. She was young and didn’t have children. We left holding each other. We stopped in the lobby and I sobbed. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t understand. I felt so empty, so robbed and so sad. Devastated. Even now, when I close my eyes and think about that sono…I see the empty chest, the gray screen and my heart just sinks. I try to squeeze my eyes harder against the emptiness. The heart break. But it lingers still.
Because I was seeing a midwife, I didn’t have a physician here in Pueblo. I called Dr. Growney on Friday and asked if he’d be willing to see me that day. We, as a family, went to meet with him that afternoon. I felt bad for him because he didn’t know what he was walking in to when he first came in. His nurse hadn’t told him why he was seeing me. He was so compassionate and caring. He was on call over the weekend and he was willing to do whatever we wanted in terms of induction or surgery or waiting. He listened to our concerns, our thoughts and our hurt. I couldn’t have asked for a better physician to care for me. It was such a blessing. We decided we wanted an induction the next morning, because my mom could come and stay with the boys and because we didn’t want surgery. (I would be happy to share our thoughts into why this was the best choice for us at another time).
We checked in to the hospital the next morning (12/3) at 9am. The nurse caring for us started my IV, I had blood drawn and took my vital signs. I have to say…I learned a lot about being a nurse by being a patient. My day nurse and I didn’t mesh well to say the least. I won’t get in to it other than to say she did not put me at ease at all. She made me incredibly nervous and she never acknowledged that we had lost a baby. I felt it was very insensitive.
I was given Cytotec to induce contractions and my labor. Cytotec is a medication that is often used for labor induction, but I was given higher doses because my body wasn’t ready for labor. I was 16 weeks and 2 days pregnant the day I was induced. The majority of the day was spent waiting. We had brought things with us to the hospital to do and read, but we couldn’t focus. I tried to sleep, but sleep hasn’t come easy. We spent a good part of the day staring at the clock or TV. We were just numb. I was thankful for the alone time we had to talk and grieve together as a couple. My contractions were really manageable. The nurse was surprised and kept offering me pain medication. I finally told her I would ask for it if I wanted it.
I was given the medication every 4 hours. 10 am and 2pm. My nurses changed at 6pm. My night shift nurse was a breath of fresh air. I could tell she was nervous (I think I was the first patient she’d had that had lost a baby), but she was calm and caring. She called Kerry and I by our first names (something our day shift nurse hadn’t done). She told us she was sorry for our loss and acknowledged how difficult this must be for us. She was exactly the kind of nurse I had been praying for all afternoon.
At 6:15 my water broke after a trip to the bathroom. I called the nurse and told her. She gave me another dose of cytotec and called Dr. G. I expected things to pick up a bit, but my contractions still stayed manageable. Kerry sat in bed with me for comfort. Around 8:45, I felt a really strong contraction and felt more pressure. I knew that the birth was imminent and called for our nurse. She also had the charge nurse with her, who was also really awesome. I knew her from taking my clinical group to Memorial Hospital in Colorado Springs. I was so thankful for the staff that was with me.
I pushed twice with the next contraction and the baby was born. I asked Kerry if he was okay while the nurses wrapped the baby up. I asked if she could tell if it was a boy or g
irl and she said the baby was a boy. The nurse handed the baby to me to hold. He was so tiny, but so perfect. We counted his fingers and toes. We touched his feet, his hands, his face. We took pictures of our baby Knox and we were in awe of how perfect he was, even though he was so tiny. Kerry and I each took turns holding him and taking it all in. As strange as it sounds, while we were grieving while we holding him…we both felt so blessed. So blessed with another son…so blessed that we had been able to experience this pregnancy even though it was cut short…and so blessed that we have had 4 healthy pregnancies and births. God is amazing. While we don’t understand the purpose for the loss, we are still in awe at His amazing creation in our son. We could see on his fingers where his finger nails were starting to grow. We could see his tiny perfect ears and his little tongue. We could feel his knees and his legs, we could see his ribs and his spine. He is perfect. He is incredible. He is our son.
While we were taking it all in and cherishing our time with him, it became apparent that the placenta wasn’t coming like we’d hoped and I was losing a fair amount of blood. Dr. G came in and looked the baby over too, he was also concerned about the amount of blood I was losing. He ordered some additional labs and prepared me for the option that we might have to go to surgery to remove the placenta. He wanted to give us as much time as possible with our son, and so he was patient and allowed us to hold Knox and try to remember every nuance about him.
I started to feel a bit light headed and my blood pressure dropped quite low. At that point, and after looking at my labs, Dr. G felt that we needed to not waste any more time and go to the OR. I have never been under general anesthesia before and because my lab values were so low, it wasn’t safe for me to have an epidural so going to sleep was the only option. I said goodbye to our sweet baby, knowing that I wouldn’t see him again until we are reunited in Heaven. It was difficult for me…I wanted to hang on to him until the last second. It felt terrible to have him wheeled out of our room in his little crib.
It terrified me to be taken down to the OR. I was so afraid that the surgery would have complications. It seemed that everything that could go wrong…had gone wrong with the birth and I was afraid it would continue to go wrong. I knew our church and our family was praying for me. I knew Kerry was praying for me and I was praying. My nurse prayed with me before I went to the OR, I don’t think she’ll ever know how important that was to me. I know that she prayed for me the entire time I was off the floor. I was praying that if anything went right…it would be this surgery. I was so thankful for Dr. G. He knew I was scared and held my hand while I was put under anesthesia. I remember looking up at him with tears in my eyes while he held my hand.
The next thing I remember was waking up in recovery, crying. I felt like my emotions had caught up with me. I asked the medical student with Dr. G if I still had my uterus. My fear going in to surgery was that there would be a complication and that I would need a hysterectomy. She told me yes and I heard one of the OR nurses say “she just asked if she still had her uterus”. I replied “yes…because children are important to me”. I was crying and grieving my baby in recovery. The medication they gave me to relax, acts kind of like if you drank too much, so my “strong” facade had diminished and I was able to cry the tears I had been holding in. I felt so weak and helpless.
The doctor went up and talked to Kerry and told him that he (Dr. G) had never seen someone wake up so easily from anesthesia before. He said I was talking in complete sentences and was awake and alert. I was taken back to the room by about 2 am. I was given several medications in recovery to try to stop the bleeding and I was given more IV fluids and antibiotics when I got back to my room.
While I was in the OR my nurse and charge nurse made a memory box for Knox. They were able to get footprints and print some pictures for us. I was so very thankful they got the tiny footprints they did. They are precious.
I was so tired, but couldn’t sleep. Kerry was able to sleep for a couple hours, but I was restless. My blood pressure stayed fairly low and I wasn’t putting out urine like I should have been. My nurse was so wonderful. She made me feel safe and cared for. She hugged me before she left and prayed with me again before she left for the day. It made such a difference to me to know my nurse was a believer.
My day nurse from the day before was back on Sunday (12/4). I was kind of dreading that. But was hoping to go home. I was still incredibly weak and tired. My labs were drawn again in the morning and they were quite a bit lower from the night before. I was given a blood product substitute called Hetaspan to try to increase the volume in my body. About 10 minutes after it started going in my hands and feet started to swell and I started to feel really anxious, like something wasn’t right. I started to feel really weird and called my nurse. I asked her to turn off the infusion because something was wrong. She was hesitant to do it, but I told her to and to call the doctor. (She really drove me nuts).
Dr G came in to see me and talk to Kerry and I about 10am. He told Kerry I had lost about half of my circulating volume (so about 1/2 of the blood in my body). He said he thought I had an allergic reaction to the Hetaspan and to add that to my allergy list. He talked with us about the grief process and what to expect. He gave me some medication to help me sleep and for pain. He also talked with Kerry about how he, as a dad, will grieve differently and to care for himself too. I so appreciated Dr. G. He was fantastic. God answered prayers for compassionate caregivers (for the most part). He said the criteria for me to go home was to be able to get up and walk around without falling over.
I tried sitting up and standing a bit, but got really dizzy. I felt so weak and tired. When I stood up, my blood pressure stayed up by my heart rate went up really high (a sign that my body is trying to compensate for low volume). It was decided that I could probably use a unit of blood. So the infusion began around 2:00pm and finished around 4:00pm. I felt a little better, still weak but not quite as dizzy as I had been. I was able to stand and walk to the bathroom. We decided we’d eat supper and then go home. We left around 6pm that night and then went to get meds before going home.
We have been home now about 2 days. It’s been an adjustment. The big boys understand what has happened, but our tender hearted Otto is having a little trouble making sense of it all I think. He’s said several times “I wish the baby was still in your tummy” or “I wish the baby wasn’t dead”. He asked to by a stocking for Knox for Christmas this year. Right now his stocking is the only Christmas decoration we have up. Otto has asked several times to see pictures of Knox, but I’m not sure he’d be able to handle seeing them just yet. I don’t think he’s prepared for what a 15 week old baby looks like, but I know for him it may be important to see them in the future.
Our son shares the date with Kerry’s cousin Jenny. She went home to be with God 30 years ago on December 3 at 6 months. While it is a sad day for Jenny’s family, and ours, we are honored in a way that our children share the same home going day. That 2 very loved children will be remembered on the same day.
As a family we are t
rying to make it through. We are thankful for the love, prayers and help from our family, church family and friends. Sleep doesn’t come easy for me still. I’m tired, but can’t seem to sleep, even with medication. The grief and tears sneak up on me at weird times. I found myself laying down holding my belly where Knox once was…it felt so empty and I cried. I am thankful for the little ones I have…I’m thankful they still want to be held. I think if they didn’t I would feel even more empty than I do. I know that Knox will always be a part of our family, I pray that I will be able to trust my body again. I pray that the raw grief will heal. I pray that someday God will bless us with another baby, not as a replacement, but to help heal me.
I am thankful though, that God has surrounded me. He has answered prayers, He has protected my body and He will heal my heart. I do not understand why He has brought me to this trial. I don’t understand what lesson I am to learn from all of this. But I have found comfort in the following passage…

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4

For now, I am learning to trust in Him. To trust that He will meet me where I am. He will guide us through this trial and we are blessed.