Please welcome this week’s guest Jaime Wright for The Journey. She answers the question: How have you seen God work in your writing journey?
I quit writing for two years. Those were the months I agonized as I lost three babies, underwent three surgeries, and spent weeks with nails bit to the quick wondering if my current pregnancy would last to fruition. My fourth pregnancy landed me in the ER with a pre-confirmed miscarriage only to result in a miraculous heartbeat that went on to be an early delivery, a NICU visit, and finally became my daughter. Is there little wonder I quit writing?
But out of that storm came something very unexpected. Aside from grief, anguish, and a continued sense of loss that fills me in the dark of night as I tuck my little girl into bed and wonder if God is planting ni-nite kisses on my other ones, came a sense of realism. Grief is real life. Loss is real. Anxiety. Horror. That tearing of the maternal bond to one’s child. And the reverse. That sense of abandonment a child feels at the loss of a parent.
You see, I was abandoned. So to speak. I was left at the hospital and given into foster care. Although God saw fit to find me a precious family when I was only two weeks old, the moment the doctors wheeled my newborn, preemie baby girl away from me, I screamed. I screamed in anger. HOW could my birth mother abandon me. If my husband hadn’t been there to follow them out, if my mother hadn’t been there to hold me, I would have ripped every IV needle from my arms and raged after the doctors to take me too. Nothing would separate me from my baby girl.
And yet, it wasn’t in my control. Realism. Nothing is in my control. God sees fit to place us in circumstances where we must surrender our all. And trust me, my daughter, my babies, were my all, more than my own heartbeat.
And two years later, when my preemie son was born, everything came full circle. In the form of postpartum depression and the night I planned out what to pack, how to hustle my newborn away at 3AM and how to arrive at the hospital where I would leave him. Abandoned. Because I didn’t want him. At all. Only the image of my husband’s pain at such a thing, kept my feet planted in the nursery. The next day, when I begged my sister-in-law to take my son, I was exposed. I had become my birth mother. Born out of pain, walked through grief, and casting away the very child that could bring me the most joy.
To this day, I’m unsure how God will manifest all of this in my writing journey. But, having experienced the extremes of abandonment, fierce protection, fighting instincts, agony of death, it seems I have found a way to reach into the dark places of my characters. Those places happy novels are afraid to go. Those places life makes us go. Those places God walks us through.
They are called the valleys of the shadow of death. Every character in every great book I’ve read, walks through them. The reader can feel the valley. Taste it even. Cry the tears of the hero/heroine and break in the humbling moments when the only words that can be written on the page are the very whispered breath of God … Be still and know that I am.
I am.
Above all other gods.
Nothing is accidental.
You are not I am. You are humbled. You are my child. I will fight for you, I will carry you, and in the end, I will rejoice over you.
God has taken me on a journey I never wanted to walk. But God has deepened my writing—God has deepened me because of it.
In this I will rejoice.
Short Bio:
Professional coffee drinker Jaime Wright resides in the hills of Wisconsin writing spirited and gritty turn-of-the-century romance stained with suspense. Her day job finds her a Director of Associate Sales, Development & Relations. She’s wife to a rock climbing, bow-hunting youth pastor, mom to a coffee-drinking little girl and a Sippy cup-drinking baby boy, and completes her persona by being an admitted Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Blogspot junkie.
Jaime is a member of ACFW, enjoys mentorship from a best-selling author, and has the best critique partners EVER! (Yes, that’s an exclamation point.) She was a semifinalist in ACFW’s 2013 Genesis contest and that alone encouraged excessive celebration over extra espresso with hazelnut syrup.
In her “down time”, Jaime reads voraciously, socializes incessantly, drinks coffee addictively, and overuses “-ly” words excessively.
Jaime can found at: http://www.jaimewrightbooks.com. She is also very active on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/jaimewrightbooks. Her blog is updated daily with posts resembling hanging out at a coffeehouse http://coffeecupsandcamisoles.blogspot.com . Come on by and say “hi”!
Oh Jaime, I sit here crying as I read your story and the tears are still falling. While you and I may not have gone through the same loss, we’ve been through loss. My precious little 8 1/2 year old daughter, my only child due to infertility issues, contracted E. coli over 6 years ago and passed away after a 16 day battle due to what this bacterial infection did to her little body. She took her last breath in my arms, and as you said, I’ve never been the same again. I started a dedication site to her in her honor called http://mommysangelinheaven.com. I feel honored and blessed to have read your story today. Thank you for your willingness to be so open and share it with all of us.
Kristena…my heart, my heart! Unspeakable loss. Cathy
Cathy, I just saw your comment to Jaime’s journey and my heart immediately went out to you. We both lost children at a young age. Thank you for sharing about your son. If you’re like me you continue to do that with people you know and meet. While I know she’s in a better place, it still doesn’t give me comfort only because I’m human and I miss her so much. But God has slowly lessened the ache. I know my writing has helped me immensely since her passing. Thank you for sharing about your son. Kristena
There is no greater ache than losing a child. There is no greater joy than knowing they are secure and safe in our Father’s arms.
Jaime, you are so right. I think that’s what gives us some peace in the end knowing this even while we miss them.
Wow, this is so moving. I had a child before my now 4 year old was born and I miscarried. I never told anyone about it, only my husband knew. Then a dear sister in the Lord called me and said I had been on her heart. She asked if I had a miscarriage. I said ‘yes.’ She then spoke into my life and said I’d be pregnant again and I’d have more children. God makes beauty out of ashes.
Preslaysa, from my heart to yours, thank you for sharing a little bit about your own life and the pain you’ve been through. It’s amazing sometimes how the Lord works the way He does and brings just the right people in our life at just the right time. He’s giving us His strength during those time when we feel we have none left. By you sharing, you’ve in turn blessed me. Thank you. Kristena
Preslaysa … I often call miscarriages the hidden grief. Because there was no tangible “life”, so many do not realize we grieve the loss of our child. But praise God for those words spoken to you. And your littles are so beautiful!!!
Thank you for sharing Jaime. I will be watching for your gut-wrenching stories that take us through the “valley of the shadow of death” – the real life stuff – that’s what I like most.
Grace and peace to you.
Thanks, Bonnie! Real life with HOPE!!! That is the stuff of God’s stories!
A moving post that reveals the most agonizing moments, yet shows God is still on the throne loving us with His great power. I love the ending. He is the Great I Am, who always was, is, and always will be.
AMEN and AMEN!!!!
Kristena’s comment on the ACFW loop brought me over here, Jaime. And she was so, so right: your post today touched my heart so profoundly. I appreciate your gut-level honesty and I also appreciate how everything you wrote has God woven through it. May He bless the work of your hands!
Thank you, Beth!! It’s His story and my life is His handiwork. The Master storyteller isn’t finished with any of us, is He? <3
Oh my, what roads some of us must travel. No one would guess by looking at your beautiful smile that you have faced such trials. One would be awful, just look what the Lord has enabled you to overcome. Thank you for praying with me at the Hyatt. My prayers have been answered.
LoRee!! Praying with you in St. Louis was a highlight! But then the prayer room is always filled with divine appointments! 🙂
Jaime, I’m so touched by your words, and your journey. It is not my experience, yet I can relate. My son was unexpectedly whisked into the presence of God at the age of eleven. My greatest heartbreak. His greatest healing in me. When you said you wondered if God was planting ni-nite kisses on your wee ones in heaven, THAT hit home.
Thank you for sharing in your winsome way. Your writing is lovely, your heart more so. May God keep you on the journey, wherever it leads. Bless you, Cathy
I firmly believe, Cathy, the Lord gives many ni-nite kisses for the mommies who blow them toward Heaven. (Which I physically do on a regular basis). And imagine!!! The day your boy races to collect them himself when you finally arrive Home!! Chills. So much to look forward to. Sending hugs your way, sweet momma.
I’ve known since GOD first nudged me to pray for you shortly after your son was born. . .there was a REASON He wanted me to pursue the consistent prayerful pledge I’d made to pray for you daily! How little did I realize WHY. . .this brings me to tears being able to tell you, Jaime, praying for you, recognizing every time God nudged me to do so, has deepened my own walk with Him. . .has deepened my LOVE for you and I had no clue how deeply you needed those prayers. THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR VERY HEART OF HEARTS and BEING SO HONEST! I love you, Jaime and am here to continue praying! Super hugs!
Jaime, I too had a past I feared I might repeat as I realized I had the potential to be like my abusive mother. Knowing Christ has removed that fear and actually led me to see good things in my mother to celebrate (especially after she came to know Christ). Perhaps your novels can also bring to life tormented individuals like our mothers. I too have experienced miscarriage (5), and I too lost a daughter recently. Our daughter was older than you, a new grandma, and living without her is the deepest and darkest valley yet. Your vulnerable story touched my heart as I feel we are sisters of the shadows, and of the light. I’m blessed to know we will see our loved ones again.
God bless all the grieving mothers. May he lean low and kiss your cheek with a whispered “I love you.”