My daughter, Ashley Nicole, breezed into my life on May 1st, spring’s new cleansing breath. She lived for nine days and died on 
my darkest night. But, thirty-nine years later, I rest in what she taught me. One who never spoke a word.
When we carried her out of the hospital, joy was new and bright like sunshine and birdsong. When she died, my days grayed. Grief slithered in to steal Ashley’s joy. But it’s back, because I fought for it. Well … not at first.
Our souls have an enemy. Where there’s joy, there’s a battle.
Our pain is painted on in layers. Some by others, some by our own choices. When Ashley died, my suffering sealed all those hurting layers. My empty arms ached and anger towards God spiraled me further into a pit. My pursuit of relief and escape took me where I never imagined. I dulled my sorrow with alcohol, drugs, and relationships.
Some of us lash out, over-eat, or over-shop. Whatever works to make us feel better, to maintain control, or to make others pay for our pain. Anger will shackle us to a victim mindset as we relive the pain, keeping our wounds fresh.
I know because my identity was wrapped tight in that victim-skin. It was a soul-killing, twisted comfort that kept me trapped for years.
Since childhood, I’d sensed a light beyond my reach, coaxing me past my pain. It was something stronger than my parents’ persuasion or my religion’s rules. Something personal. I called it false hope until grief’s weight and sinful choices broke me and I finally let Jesus into my selfish world.
He showed me that my husband and children deserved better than what broken-me gave them. He revealed who I was underneath my fear and shame: whole and healthy. He challenged me to believe that hope is real, peace is possible, and healing is available.
I learned a lot from my baby girl who breezed in and out of my life. Through the pain of her leaving and the pit I sank into, she taught me that a sin-soaked past can be turned around for good and there’s always a higher road to rescue me. She taught me that heartache, though a part of life, doesn’t define me.
By God’s grace, I can resist whatever or whoever tries to steal my joy. I’m no longer a victim and I’m proof that grief and joy can coexist in a heart where peace reigns.
My baby girl led me to the One who died so I could live fully and freely. Ashley Nicole showed me Jesus.
Photo: Robin & daughter, Hannah, born ten years after Ashley Nicole
©Robin Melvin 2016
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