When life is so chaotic, I like to organize. Today my closet is the way I love it, weeded out and size and color coded. Refolded too. Allan is on his way to drop off the last minute donations to Good Will. Somehow this process helps, but makes the day hard too.
I find that I am suddenly remembering things about grieving that I've forgotten about. I wish I didn't have to remember it at all. I wish I didn't know what this type of grief is all about. I hate finding surprises that were tucked away. Clothes that still smell just right, a pacifier, a favorite outfit. It always happens. I feel like it's good to get it out of the way. The problem is that it's never really out of the way. There will always be little reminders that catch you off guard. A smell, a band aid, the way the day smells.
As sad and hard as it is, maybe it's a gift from God. A way for Him to remind us that our loved ones are still with us even if they are no longer tangible. You see the only guarantee that we are given in life is that we will all die. All the rest of life in between is up to us. We can choose to live on our own accord or we can choose to live according to God's will for our lives. It's hard to relinquish control and hand over the reins. You never know what you are going to wind up doing.
Honestly though, when you try to take over those reins, do you really wind up knowing what you are going to do? The main difference is, if you walk without God, there is no hope. Hope comes from the promise of eternal life. God sacrificed HIS own child for US. He did it so that we could have ever-lasting life. God knows how much it hurts to loose a child. He did not have to do that at all. But He did so that we could know what length He would go to for us.
See, even though we loose our loved ones and we are sad, there is SO much more to live for. If we confess that we are sinful (we do wrong things, as the bugs say) and believe that Jesus died for that sin of ours and we are truly reticent we, too, may have life ever lasting. A chance to spend eternity with God. There is no pain, sorrow or illness.
I'll tell you, walking through grief is so very difficult. Doing it without the One who loves you the most is next to impossible. I honestly don't care what the sin is. God forgives it, if you ask Him to. He just does. It seems simple, but you have to be willing to relinquish the control you think you have over your life. That's hard for us. It's hard to be humble and to submit. I will tell you first hand, it makes my life so much easier. When the weight of my sorrow crashes down around me and the buggie-boos and fighting and demanding my attention, He is there to pick me up and carry me through that wave. I'm riding with the tide, not getting caught in the undertow.
Believe me, there are times that it seems like I will get caught in that undertow. It seems so dark and there is no way out of the sharp pain and the dull long term ache that follows. But He is there to pull me out and show me what is important. He gives me the scent that reminds me of my loved one. I find a letter, a hat, a golf ball from my Grandpa. I find a pacifier. I look in Eric's memory box. I see a frog. I see someone who looks "familiar". I hear my Grandmother's voice in my head. I get sand on my towel. These are all cherished things from the people who have impacted my life and I love. People I know that I will see in Heaven. People who have already completed their journey through this world, impacted me, and many others, for Christ and are in the presence of the living God. This is why I have Hope. This is how I can face tomorrow. Whether it's a new year or not, your life can only be new if you give it over to God.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Processing
I've been thinking about all the babies in my life. We are in the season of life where we are all building our families. Eric was born in the "first round" of babies amongst our group of friends. After he died, I tried to be as involved as I could, but it hurt so much to have empty arms and watch everyone else with their babies. The problem is that I love those kids. They are a part of our extended family. I forced myself to be as involved as I could. But it was really hard. I missed out a lot.
Ava also has many friends born about the same time as she. These kids I also love. This time my house is full, but very empty at the same time. A big difference is that I am still a Mommy with a mission. After Eric I was a Mommy without one. I like having a mission still. It is just as hard to see those other babies, but in a different way. I want to be a part of their lives. Ava was made for the life she lived. These children are still unfolding into the wonders of God's promises and plans for them. I do want to hold them and love them. So I am trying to do that now so they don't become taboo. I'll tell you, it's not so bad.
One thing I pray for is protection over the children of our friends and family. I pray that no others have to walk this road that we are on. I know that is so not possible. Other children will die. But I ask God to keep families in tact. I don't see that there is a problem with that. I also know that we can support those who may have to walk that road someday. We are happy to do that too. It's not a fun club to be in, but it's our life.
I so wish that our babies had a problem that modern medicine could touch and help with. I wish there was at least some hope medicine could provide that the form of mitochondrial disease our children suffered from could be helped. That is not the case. I don't know if it ever would be the case, there is much more research that has to take place first.
I go to bed and not know what the next day will bring. Sometimes it's more tough than others, sometimes it's a hair easier. The sadness and loss we feel ripples through our family at different times. It's unpredictable and sometimes feels like the wind was knocked out of you. I am noticing that God is making sure one out of the 5 of us is a little more up to help those that are a little more down.
The ache will dull. The pain will not be as poignant. There will always be a hole though and that's OK. I wish I could fast forward this road. It took 5 years before I started to feel lots like me again after Eric. It's not fun knowing what you are in for. Then again, I don't really. Ava's life and death is and was way different than that of her brother. The aftermath of our grief will follow suit, I suppose. It already is. It doesn't make it hurt less, just different.
Ava also has many friends born about the same time as she. These kids I also love. This time my house is full, but very empty at the same time. A big difference is that I am still a Mommy with a mission. After Eric I was a Mommy without one. I like having a mission still. It is just as hard to see those other babies, but in a different way. I want to be a part of their lives. Ava was made for the life she lived. These children are still unfolding into the wonders of God's promises and plans for them. I do want to hold them and love them. So I am trying to do that now so they don't become taboo. I'll tell you, it's not so bad.
One thing I pray for is protection over the children of our friends and family. I pray that no others have to walk this road that we are on. I know that is so not possible. Other children will die. But I ask God to keep families in tact. I don't see that there is a problem with that. I also know that we can support those who may have to walk that road someday. We are happy to do that too. It's not a fun club to be in, but it's our life.
I so wish that our babies had a problem that modern medicine could touch and help with. I wish there was at least some hope medicine could provide that the form of mitochondrial disease our children suffered from could be helped. That is not the case. I don't know if it ever would be the case, there is much more research that has to take place first.
I go to bed and not know what the next day will bring. Sometimes it's more tough than others, sometimes it's a hair easier. The sadness and loss we feel ripples through our family at different times. It's unpredictable and sometimes feels like the wind was knocked out of you. I am noticing that God is making sure one out of the 5 of us is a little more up to help those that are a little more down.
The ache will dull. The pain will not be as poignant. There will always be a hole though and that's OK. I wish I could fast forward this road. It took 5 years before I started to feel lots like me again after Eric. It's not fun knowing what you are in for. Then again, I don't really. Ava's life and death is and was way different than that of her brother. The aftermath of our grief will follow suit, I suppose. It already is. It doesn't make it hurt less, just different.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Family time
Today was a much needed good day after the tough one we had yesterday. The bugs flitted around the house in leotards and tutu's having "ballerina" lessons at 20 o'clock. Oh wait, they changed it to 5:30. There were couch cushions all over the place. Blanket piles and some strange chant that Allan and I couldn't figure out what was being said.
It was nice.
We had movie night and game night. It's amazing how one pizza served in the family room on a kid table with paper plates in front of the same mind numbing children's show (Strawberry Shortcake) can turn into a major event when you are 5, 5, and 2. If we ate it in the kitchen, where's the fun in that?
We spent the majority of the day trying to figure out the best way to approach Disney. They try to tell you that it's affordable. I'd like to know by whom. I heard there were lots of deals out there. Just not really now. We did find some good stuff, eventually. So I think we are going to try and go. There are still kinks to work out. (I am holding out for a better reduction in cost.)
While we were in the throes of research Elaina bounces up to us and wants us to come "look I did". "Hold on Honey, just a minute." "Daddy, LOOK I did." "Hold on honey Mommy and I are doing something." "DADDY, LOOK I DID." "Hold on Honey, Mommy and I are doing something, that involves you being able to meet Mickey Mouse." "Oh." Off she went.
It was hysterical.
It feels good to laugh, even when it's outside of yourself.
It was nice.
We had movie night and game night. It's amazing how one pizza served in the family room on a kid table with paper plates in front of the same mind numbing children's show (Strawberry Shortcake) can turn into a major event when you are 5, 5, and 2. If we ate it in the kitchen, where's the fun in that?
We spent the majority of the day trying to figure out the best way to approach Disney. They try to tell you that it's affordable. I'd like to know by whom. I heard there were lots of deals out there. Just not really now. We did find some good stuff, eventually. So I think we are going to try and go. There are still kinks to work out. (I am holding out for a better reduction in cost.)
While we were in the throes of research Elaina bounces up to us and wants us to come "look I did". "Hold on Honey, just a minute." "Daddy, LOOK I did." "Hold on honey Mommy and I are doing something." "DADDY, LOOK I DID." "Hold on Honey, Mommy and I are doing something, that involves you being able to meet Mickey Mouse." "Oh." Off she went.
It was hysterical.
It feels good to laugh, even when it's outside of yourself.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Onions and J-O-Y
Trying to get back in the swing of things is hard. I think about how much more difficult it will become as we absorb the responsibilities of our "usual" life. I am exhausted and have a low threshold for things that bother me. Poor Allan, it's like he is dealing with pregnant me. He was hoping to not have to do that I suppose. I want the broken or the breaking things in our house fixed NOW. If it's annoying me, I want it taken care of. I find I just don't have the extra energy to expend on that "fluff". (Drafty windows and a new roof isn't "fluff"', but kids stuff everywhere, a broken phone, a not functional storm door, and clothes that don't fit right could be considered as such).
The little reserve I have is to go into the ladybugs flitting around the house. They will usually stop for a hug and an 'I miss Ava'. Their regular conversation these days consists of: 'Look at the picture I'm coloring. I'm coloring in the lines. We used to have 5 kids and now we are back to 3. These are yummy mashed potatoes.' Sometimes I can deal with it OK. Today it's like little daggers in my heart.
I always wanted to have four kids. I've given birth to 5 wonderful little bugs, but I so wish that I had the opportunity to raise them all. When we found out we were expecting Ava to say we were surprised would be an understatement. We were thrown for a loop thinking that our family was complete. I went through a lot of processing to come to terms with having another one right now. When I was younger I wanted 4, when I came to terms with the surprise, I still wanted 4. I really think that we would have done a great job that the craziness of 4 would provide. I hate that I will never know now.
It's those thoughts and feelings that are piercing and raw. Every time I peel a layer of that onion my eyes sting and burn as I get closer to the heart of the matter. I can't look at the whole thing all at once. I think I'd blow a gasket. I keep saying that I can't do it anymore and how much more can I take. Yet here I sit, still doing what I feared the most and still taking it. Sometimes way better than others, none the less, taking it.
Allan and I were noticing that this time around we feel way more present in life than we did when Eric died. That is a blessing. We have to be. We have three active, wounded, and still happy ladies that we have to care for and nurture.
My soul is nurtured by God. I need someone to nurture my physical being. My body is sore, my mind is dull and my heart is so very broken. It is amazing to me how a simple (tongue in cheek) task, like taking 3 kids to church, and eating lunch can take all I have out of me.
I find that I am trying to rush each day to get to the next. The next holds the same loneliness and sorrow, but as the song says, "His joy comes in the morning". I keep looking for the glimmers of that joy so I can hold on and get to the next step. Sometimes it's so very intentional. We have a huge JOY sign in red on our front lawn. In the center of the "O" is Mary, Joseph and Jesus in white. Whenever I leave or come home it's there, in my face. J-O-Y and why we can have it. Sometimes it has to be blatant to be effective.
The little reserve I have is to go into the ladybugs flitting around the house. They will usually stop for a hug and an 'I miss Ava'. Their regular conversation these days consists of: 'Look at the picture I'm coloring. I'm coloring in the lines. We used to have 5 kids and now we are back to 3. These are yummy mashed potatoes.' Sometimes I can deal with it OK. Today it's like little daggers in my heart.
I always wanted to have four kids. I've given birth to 5 wonderful little bugs, but I so wish that I had the opportunity to raise them all. When we found out we were expecting Ava to say we were surprised would be an understatement. We were thrown for a loop thinking that our family was complete. I went through a lot of processing to come to terms with having another one right now. When I was younger I wanted 4, when I came to terms with the surprise, I still wanted 4. I really think that we would have done a great job that the craziness of 4 would provide. I hate that I will never know now.
It's those thoughts and feelings that are piercing and raw. Every time I peel a layer of that onion my eyes sting and burn as I get closer to the heart of the matter. I can't look at the whole thing all at once. I think I'd blow a gasket. I keep saying that I can't do it anymore and how much more can I take. Yet here I sit, still doing what I feared the most and still taking it. Sometimes way better than others, none the less, taking it.
Allan and I were noticing that this time around we feel way more present in life than we did when Eric died. That is a blessing. We have to be. We have three active, wounded, and still happy ladies that we have to care for and nurture.
My soul is nurtured by God. I need someone to nurture my physical being. My body is sore, my mind is dull and my heart is so very broken. It is amazing to me how a simple (tongue in cheek) task, like taking 3 kids to church, and eating lunch can take all I have out of me.
I find that I am trying to rush each day to get to the next. The next holds the same loneliness and sorrow, but as the song says, "His joy comes in the morning". I keep looking for the glimmers of that joy so I can hold on and get to the next step. Sometimes it's so very intentional. We have a huge JOY sign in red on our front lawn. In the center of the "O" is Mary, Joseph and Jesus in white. Whenever I leave or come home it's there, in my face. J-O-Y and why we can have it. Sometimes it has to be blatant to be effective.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Tucking in
Tonight Elaina ca me bounding in to Emily and Alexa's room at bedtime. "Mommy, you tuck Emmy and Lexa in and you come and give me a kiss and I tell you a story, OK?." This is what she does every night. It's how I can see how she's processing what is going on in our home. It's her way of stalling before bedtime. Everybody wins.
During one of these "story times" Elaina was able to ask questions about Ava's burial service and why she was "in a box". I could hardly believe how much of the day her little 2 year old brain understood what happened that day.
Tonight our conversation/story was this:
E- "Mommy, why's Ava in Heaven?"
E- "She got a new body".
M- "What's she doing with it?"
E- "She holding God's Hand."
E- "Why Eric in Heaven?"
M- "Why is Eric in Heaven?"
E- "He Died."
E- "He got a new body."
M- "What's he doing?"
E- "He holding God."
To think about Ava holding God's hand brings me comfort. To think about God holding us brings me Joy.
During one of these "story times" Elaina was able to ask questions about Ava's burial service and why she was "in a box". I could hardly believe how much of the day her little 2 year old brain understood what happened that day.
Tonight our conversation/story was this:
E- "Mommy, why's Ava in Heaven?"
E- "She got a new body".
M- "What's she doing with it?"
E- "She holding God's Hand."
E- "Why Eric in Heaven?"
M- "Why is Eric in Heaven?"
E- "He Died."
E- "He got a new body."
M- "What's he doing?"
E- "He holding God."
To think about Ava holding God's hand brings me comfort. To think about God holding us brings me Joy.
Ho Ho Ho
Merry Christmas! It is a great day to reflect not on all we've lost, but what we've gained and have. The joy that I usually feel on Christmas is dulled, but I know it's there. It's reflected in the twinkle in the eyes of my three beautiful girls. They are full of hope and peace.
We gave them each a photo book of each bug with Ava. I took special pictures of them with her from the time she was born so they would always have them, in case she died. I am so very grateful that I made a point to do that instead of bury my head in denial of the very distinct possibility. This morning each of our bugs appreciated this book as much as all the other "kid" stuff they received. (Thank you to a whole bunch of elves disguised as Social Workers, Case Managers, Performance Improvement and some nurses from my work.)
As I type Allan is playing with one of his toys from those same elves: a remote control truck. It was so fun to hear him exclaim, "yeah!".
Our plans for the new year are lofty, but hopefully attainable. There will be a 5K for Ava in the spring. We are going to move full steam ahead on getting the Joy-Hope Foundation off the ground. I will continue to make prayer bracelets (with the help of Emmy and Lexa). They can't wait to help. We really need to potty train the headstrong two year old who is more than ready. We also need to regroup as a family and individuals and try to make sense of what just happened to us. We need to grieve and do so courageously. Allan and I may take a weekend away. We are also hoping to go to Disney so we can see the sparkle in those six gorgeous brown eyes. Who knows, maybe I will have a little glimmer in there too.
During the season of grief there are always abundant lessons and truths. They form in the darkness and shoot forth a ray of light for that moment. If you keep an eye out if can become a lifeline, so to speak. God throws us the proverbial rope so that we don't slip into a deep depression. A pit that is seemingly impossible to climb out of. Each situation that causes grief has it's own lessons to assist in the season of life that you are in.
My lesson that I have identified in these early minutes, before the reality of the loss sets in, is that I need to live by faith, but intentionally at the same time. It's crazy. I never thought those two things could go hand in hand, but they do. God has been providing for our every need, tenfold, during Ava's brief and bold life. Now, He is doing so even more in the aftermath of her death. I know He will take care of all the details. But I have to make a list of the things that I need to do so that I can get them done. He is directing the course we are on and we want to obey. The story of Eric and Ava is not over, God is telling us that. Their lives are complete on this earth, but there is more work to be done.
This is a tricky thing for me. I don't ever want to be holding onto them because I can't let them go. If I did that I would get stuck in my grief. Time marches on and so must we. But there are things that we are feeling called to do, to assist those families who will have to walk a similar path that we are.
The list for the moment is as follows: Watch Allan play with his remote control monster truck and launch it over the ramp and pillow he set up. Cook the "roast beast" (standing rib roast). Delight in my children and my husband. Miss my babies. Play with my Mom and Dad. Find a reason to use my new griddle. Rest in Jesus.
We gave them each a photo book of each bug with Ava. I took special pictures of them with her from the time she was born so they would always have them, in case she died. I am so very grateful that I made a point to do that instead of bury my head in denial of the very distinct possibility. This morning each of our bugs appreciated this book as much as all the other "kid" stuff they received. (Thank you to a whole bunch of elves disguised as Social Workers, Case Managers, Performance Improvement and some nurses from my work.)
As I type Allan is playing with one of his toys from those same elves: a remote control truck. It was so fun to hear him exclaim, "yeah!".
Our plans for the new year are lofty, but hopefully attainable. There will be a 5K for Ava in the spring. We are going to move full steam ahead on getting the Joy-Hope Foundation off the ground. I will continue to make prayer bracelets (with the help of Emmy and Lexa). They can't wait to help. We really need to potty train the headstrong two year old who is more than ready. We also need to regroup as a family and individuals and try to make sense of what just happened to us. We need to grieve and do so courageously. Allan and I may take a weekend away. We are also hoping to go to Disney so we can see the sparkle in those six gorgeous brown eyes. Who knows, maybe I will have a little glimmer in there too.
During the season of grief there are always abundant lessons and truths. They form in the darkness and shoot forth a ray of light for that moment. If you keep an eye out if can become a lifeline, so to speak. God throws us the proverbial rope so that we don't slip into a deep depression. A pit that is seemingly impossible to climb out of. Each situation that causes grief has it's own lessons to assist in the season of life that you are in.
My lesson that I have identified in these early minutes, before the reality of the loss sets in, is that I need to live by faith, but intentionally at the same time. It's crazy. I never thought those two things could go hand in hand, but they do. God has been providing for our every need, tenfold, during Ava's brief and bold life. Now, He is doing so even more in the aftermath of her death. I know He will take care of all the details. But I have to make a list of the things that I need to do so that I can get them done. He is directing the course we are on and we want to obey. The story of Eric and Ava is not over, God is telling us that. Their lives are complete on this earth, but there is more work to be done.
This is a tricky thing for me. I don't ever want to be holding onto them because I can't let them go. If I did that I would get stuck in my grief. Time marches on and so must we. But there are things that we are feeling called to do, to assist those families who will have to walk a similar path that we are.
The list for the moment is as follows: Watch Allan play with his remote control monster truck and launch it over the ramp and pillow he set up. Cook the "roast beast" (standing rib roast). Delight in my children and my husband. Miss my babies. Play with my Mom and Dad. Find a reason to use my new griddle. Rest in Jesus.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Hustle and Bustle
Yesterday was Ava's burial and her Memorial service. It was an emotionally exhausting, yet beautiful, day. We are hard pressed to find the appropriate words to sufficiently thank all who have supported our family. The outpouring is humbling and overwhelming. The community around us is helping us keep it together, so to speak. We, of course, recognize that God is holding us together too. But He is working through all of you, and we recognize that too.
Today we try to live in the shadow of our sorrow and the sunshine of the Birth of Christ. (We are also trying to deal with the continual hacking cough and sleepless nights as a result said hacking coughs. Which is getting really old, I might add). So today it was off to the mall with the three bugs. Not the best judgement on our part, but sisters had to buy presents for each other. We tried to tell them that there are no more presents, but they weren't falling for it.
We plan on doing our best to have a good time on Christmas. There will be tears. There will lots of hugs and laughter too. We can do that. So we will.
Today we try to live in the shadow of our sorrow and the sunshine of the Birth of Christ. (We are also trying to deal with the continual hacking cough and sleepless nights as a result said hacking coughs. Which is getting really old, I might add). So today it was off to the mall with the three bugs. Not the best judgement on our part, but sisters had to buy presents for each other. We tried to tell them that there are no more presents, but they weren't falling for it.
We plan on doing our best to have a good time on Christmas. There will be tears. There will lots of hugs and laughter too. We can do that. So we will.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
