I am sitting here in the dark 3am on the morning after the ER confirmed I have lost my 4th baby. My head is spinning, trying to wrap its mind around this loss. I keep thinking of all my responsibilities and how on earth I will be able to step away from them to grieve. Who will take my girls to school? Who will feed them? Can’t I just take a week off to process all of this?

I think it is some strange form of denial. I want to hold onto normal life desperately. I can’t imagine being stuck at home with the girls and not try to keep up with life.

And so I cannot sleep. I listen to the cars go by on my street and the neighbors late night party music next door.

I am a foreigner in a foreign land with no place to bury my babies and not even a home that feels like home to grieve in.

I could not be closer to the realities of Hebrews 11 then now. Where is my gaze? As I feel the pressures of my body surmounting, preparing itself for this delivery of death, what will it mean for me to be as those great cloud of witnesses who gave up their lives, their livelihood, their comforts, for the sake of the Lord. It’s hard to see how any of this affects Gods great salvation plan for the world but somehow it must because He has intended this dreadfully painful path for me to walk down. But I do not walk alone. He is with me. He will never leave me or forsake me. This was my breath as I drove home last night from Redlands, that long drive home from the foreign city where I lost my baby. He is with me on this path. This is the path He has chosen for me. I cannot make sense of it but it is not in my purview to do so. I can only take a deep breath, and fall into His arms and beg Him again as I have so many times before to carry me, to hold me, to help me walk with faith and trust across the precipice of my greatest fears coming true.

–Cynthe Burbidge