My husband, Sam, and I have been married for almost eight years. We have a five-year-old son, George, and a three-year-old, John, and that sweet bear in the middle is our Maezie bear. Maezie, our daughter, would have turned one-year-old last month, but she entered heaven the day after her birth. And while she is not physically present with us, she is still a force in our family.
I was a middle school math teacher, but soon after giving birth to George, we made plans so I could stay home full-time. Part of that decision involved moving to the Phoenix Valley to decrease our cost of living and slow our pace of life. And while life slowed in some ways, it sped up in others.
After we moved our family to Arizona, we noticed that our oldest, George, was regressing developmentally. By age two, he was no longer saying words. Deep down, I knew he was likely on the autism spectrum, but honestly, I went through a period of denial. Not my child, I thought. It felt so unfair.
Getting George’s autism diagnosis flipped my world upside down. I grieved my own expectations for his life and felt completely lost and inadequate as his mom. I started sharing our journey on Instagram as a way to process, advocate for George, and connect with others who could relate. People would share stories of brilliant autistic individuals who became doctors or achieved “amazing” things. But it upset me – what if George never speaks or goes to college? Will society still accept him?
My son George is teaching me new things all the time. And one of the most incredible things he has taught me is that not everything can be fixed. Can I be honest with you? I once thought I knew how to fix things. As a teacher, I assumed many challenges my students faced were fixable. If they tried harder, if their parents would unplug from work, if they would correct their child, give their child more attention, or spend less time playing video games, then it could fix things. It now feels uncomfortable to admit that these were once my genuine and judgmental thoughts. How wrong was I to think that I knew how to fix things?
If you find this message helpful, click to share it with a friend.
Sometimes, I wonder if people have these thoughts about my son and my family. If his parents would just take the string out of his hands, he wouldn’t fixate on it so much. If they would just make him stop squealing, then people wouldn’t stare. If they would just socialize him more, then he would learn how to play with other kids. If they had just read more books to him, then he would have started talking. If they would just focus harder on helping him, then he would get better. But some things are not meant to be fixed. They are beautiful the way they are. In God’s eyes, you will always be accepted for all that you are, and you don’t have to change anything about yourself. Come with your mess, your burden, your screaming children, and just be.
In John 9, Jesus heals a man blind from birth. The disciples ask who sinned to cause his blindness. Isn’t that just like us? We want to assign blame for people’s challenges, even our own. But Jesus says: “You’re asking the wrong question. Stop looking for someone to blame. Look instead for what God can do.” He’s showing us that our weaknesses are opportunities for God to display His power and goodness.
Our biggest setbacks can be a launching pad for our greatest calling if we stop striving for perfection. God uses flawed and imperfect people, like you and me, to showcase who He is. No past sins or present struggles can stop God from pursuing you and using your life for His greater purpose – if you let Him.
A couple of years ago, Sam and I decided to grow our family. After two healthy pregnancies, we expected it to go smoothly – but it didn’t. I had two devastating miscarriages. Then I became pregnant with our Maezie Joy. I felt an instant bond with her, knowing our stories would be intertwined.
But my pregnancy with Maezie was fraught with complications. At 22 weeks, my waters ruptured. I was hospitalized, trying to remain pregnant as long as possible to give her a chance. At 24 weeks, we faced the horrific choice that it was safer for Maezie to be born despite how fragile she would be. She entered the world at just 1 pound 5 ounces.
The following day, Maezie’s tiny lungs started to bleed. I’ll never forget the nurse rushing to tell us they needed to let me hold my daughter – without saying it directly, I knew it meant Maezie was about to die. As we held our baby girl for both the first and last time, it was both the saddest and also the most cherished day.
People often say, “God only gives these challenges to those strong enough to handle them.” But honestly, that feels hurtful. It stirs up resentment towards God when you don’t have the strength to endure your circumstances. Friend, it’s okay to be angry and ask God, “Why?” He can handle your questions and rage.
I don’t believe God doles out suffering to those He thinks can take it. We live in a broken world where tragic things happen to anyone, regardless of their goodness or strength. Losing Maezie raising a child with high support needs – I never imagined this would be my story. But because of my faith, I have an immense sense of peace and strength from God amidst the sorrow. I feel Him sitting with me in my grief.
My love and strength as a mom will never be enough, though. The world tells us we have everything inside ourselves to make it if we just try harder, read the right books, and think positively. But I could never get through this life in my own strength—only through Jesus.
As Sam and I held our dying daughter, tears streaming, we played a song called “Gratitude.” I had sung it to her in the hospital, to the sound of her beating heart. We sang hallelujah in a way we never had. As we held our daughter, who had just died from her weak and underdeveloped lungs, we sang the words you’ve got a lion inside of those lungs, get up and praise the Lord. Her weak lungs now had the breath of heaven in them. What a picture of when sorrow and hope collide.
Author: Alayna Appel Towne
Eastside Christian Church
Anaheim, CA
infant loss
watch Alayna's message
Click the button below to
watch the full message.
learn more about
special needs
Eastside has a special needs ministry
and we'd love for you to be apart.
need more
support?
Find a counselor or join GriefShare, a support group where people understand the difficult emotions of grief.