Comments 4

So, how are you?

I get this question ten times a day at least and I answer politely with: “I’m ok.”

Because I can’t pour my heart out time and time and time again and say to you:

1. I am frustrated

My frustration overspills into my conversations and my interactions.

To the point of ranting in Primark over toddler pants and leaving people perplexed at how vexed I can be over a pair of  pants missing from the pack.

I am frustrated with our loss, in practical terms, not only emotionally. God knows how much energy, drive and determination it took to convince Alex to have another baby. And then He goes and takes this baby away. Just like that.

As if to say, your efforts meant nothing. Go ahead, have another go. Start all over again.

Bang your head against the wall of fear and insecurity and financial pressure, of marital discord.

Put your body through another nine months of prenatal depression, puffed up everythings, weight gain, moods, tiredness. Just go ahead. I may or may not allow you to keep the next one.  But I will not remove the desperate desire from your heart either. The desire to hold and nourish and breathe in a newborn. YOUR newborn. because that’s how I rock. All mysterious and conflicting. Don’t try to make sense of it. Just you go ahead…

I am frustrated with the church. I am! I am frustrated with the lack of empathy. With the lack of action and initiative. With the awkwardness. With the comfortable approaches of “we shall let the Lord speak.” With the “prepacked” answers to life’s most painful experiences. With the lack of plans. With the lack of strategies. With the lack of understanding that for people like me, church has stopped being a social club and it is now either source of energy and strength or…the very opposite. I can’t stay in the middle anymore. I can’t “do” church anymore. I need to BE church. I am burning with the desire to be meaningful and be of help.

I am frustrated with my body and my mind. I am back to waking up at night. I am so flipping exhausted at the end of the day, by my thoughts alone! I eat to comfort myself and then I get frustrated with my bloated stomach.

2. I am lonely

I am. I am lonely in my grief. I am lonely in being the only one in my circle of friends who has lost a baby. I am lonely even in the midst of a crowd now.

I am lonely in the church. Not the building, but the assembly of people.

I am lonely in my marriage. We grieve the loss of our son but not together but in different ways and at different tempos. Always at odds with the other’s grieving process. Separated. Lonely while ever so close.

I am lonely on my spiritual journey.

We have had firemen/women Christians showing up when the going was tough. Much appreciated, indeed. When the prayer was needed for healing. When there was still life in Georgie’s wee body. Once the light was extinguished, they dissipated. Disappeared. Vanished. Hidden. Moved on to the next crisis, to the next Christian, to the next “hope.”

But you know what? Although I do not present as a crisis situation anymore I still need friends. I still need love. I still need company and a shoulder to cry on.

I feel lonely in my Christian journey. I have been burning to serve the community, the lonely, the needy, the non-crisis situations, the unlovable for almost two years now. I have journeyed through hell and I feel I have finally emerged from the fog only to find myself on my own in my desire. Why has this burning desire been put in me, why the atrocious journey if there is no leader to lead me from where I find myself now. What am I to do with myself? I can’t sit on a rock and wait for another two years until everybody catches up. What I am to do with myself meanwhile and this suffocating desire I have not created nor placed into my heart? WHAT???

Well, I will do the only thing I know to do. I will protest, I will rally, I will boycott the heavens’ gates and erode my husband’s ears with pleas until I have the “twins” I was promised two years ago. A healthy baby and a place to serve, where I will feel at home, fulfilling my calling and spilling the love that can no longer be contained into my heart.

I will not shush. I cannot. Just like Hannah, I will plead and inconvenience with my cries until I get my answer. Until I have my Samuel and until I am assigned my role in His temple.


This entry was posted in: Parenting


Mum to one beautiful girl on earth and one sweet baby boy in heaven. Privileged carer. Encourager and friend.


  1. Kerry says

    Oh Oana, what to say in the face of such massive emotion. Your frustration is palpable. I have no answers and I’m not going to come out with bland platitudes. Sometimes life is s**t. There is no discernible reason why the s**t happens. It’s there like a big massive ugly presence in the middle of everything and you try to live round it, try to ignore it, try to accommodate it, eventually even try to embrace it and then you realise once again, no, it’s still that big ugly massive presence that makes no sense. I’m so sorry the people round you are no help at this time. It’s a heck of a lonely road through troubles on your own – though you know you’re not on your on but sometimes God seems far away and silent. I want to send you a hug and a sincere prayer xxxx

  2. damaris K says

    Oana thank you for being so real with the world! You are a breath of fresh air! Keep asking. xoxoxo

  3. Desi suna ca un cliseu, viata e o lupta. O lupta continua cu tine insuti, cu altii, cu situatii,etc. Dar nu avem incotro. Vrem nu vrem, trebuie sa inaintam indiferent de ce fac prietenii, familia in sens mai larg sau mai restrans, sau oricine altcineva si asta pt ca viata chiar merge inainte. Timpul trece, anii se scurg indiferent de focul care arde in inima noastra. Unii sunt sensibili la durerile sau dorintele noatre arzatoare, iar altii nu. Unii sunt capabili, dispusi sa fie alaturi de cineva care trece prin foc, iar altii nu. Ne raneste, dar nu avem ce face. Asa e viata, asa sunt oamenii. Cred ca in cele din urma, important e sa nu uitam cine suntem, sa traim dupa principii morale, crestine pt ca vom da socoteala. Fie ca ne place, fie ca nu.
    Curaj, Oana!!! Stiu, suna superficial. Dar chiar ai nevoie de curaj ca sa lupti in continuare pt viata ta, pt telurile tale, pt alinarea durerii ce-ti arde launtrul.

  4. Oana, I wish you lived nearer to me so that we could meet for coffee – you’re the first other Christian blogger bereaved mummy that I’ve met – I’m sorry that you feel so lonely and frustrated but glad that you’re brave enough to be honest 💕

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