In music, a grace note is a note that is held for a brief moment...barely touched on the piano. "Grace Notes" seems like a fitting name for this blog. Our lives changed when I carried our daughter, Grace, for 9 months only to hold her (in my earthly opinion) for a brief moment. She lives in heaven with her Savior. If only that comfort, that sure hope we have, would take away the pain of missing her.

"As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother's womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things." Ecclesiastes 11:5

We are always thankful for Grace.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Going Home...May 22, 2010

May 22, 2010 Saturday

Today I would go home. I'm sure that I'd “feel much better” at home and recover more quickly. I was awake by 6 a.m. (It's not like I actually fell asleep), showered, and ready to go home by 8. I knew that Bob had some errands to run this morning and wouldn't be by to see me till noon.
He stopped by the florist and had them make a large flower arrangement with lots of pink flowers. He also wanted an angel to go along with the flowers. As soon as he walked into the store there it was...just what he had in mind. He got a card to go along with it and he wrote,

Dear Grace,
Our hearts may be sad, but we rejoice in the truth of God's love, knowing you are in heaven. We look forward to seeing you there.
Love,
Mom, Dad, Brittany, Madelyn, and Heather

He took the flowers over to church for Sunday's service. They were given out of thankfulness to God for the gift of our 4th daughter and again out of thankfulness to God for taking her home to heaven. (Even today, I feel that empty pit in my stomach as I read this.)

When Bob carried the flowers into church, a member realized that we must have had our baby and congratulated him. Bob didn't say anything...I'm sure that he physically couldn't say anything without tears. He also dropped off almost 2,000 diapers and 5,000 diaper wipes at church for some new moms that would be able to use them. When Bob was on orders to help with Nashville's flood relief, someone hooked us up with diapers and wipes. He also gave the infant car seat back to our pastor. He already put the highchair in the garage.

Our friend came to the house and spent the entire day with her girls and ours. She cut grass, pulled weeds, got dinner ready, etc. (As I read this over today, I have no words to say how much we appreciated that. I know that I completely overlooked those who helped or wanted to help. Again...things weren't being processed in my mind, yet.)

Back at the hospital, I just sat in the chair and cried all morning. I know that I mentioned in an earlier post how caring the doctors and nurses were on Thursday, Grace's birthday. Yesterday and today, I was never sure if anyone else knew that I had just lost a baby. No one ever said anything when they came into my room to check on me. It would have been so helpful if they would have just acknowledged that they knew. I assume that there was something on the door or wall outside of my room that made them aware of our situation...if only they would have said something though. I felt very uncomfortable, which is probably how the thoughts of being taken to the Psych Ward came in. (It was like we were all pretending that nothing happened.) Little did I know at that time, that this was only the beginning of the uncomfortable silence. 

I tried calling my sister. My side of the family still didn't know and 2 days had passed. When I called her home there was no answer, so I tried to leave a message. All I could get out was, “Hi...This is Wendy.” She called back later and after a few moments of tears, we were able to carry on a conversation. It made me feel better.

Around 11, some friends stopped in. They planned on spending the rest of the day with us. Our car was still parked at the clinic where we went on Thursday for the ultrasound. We drove separately because Bob was planning on going to work after the appointment. Our friend was going to drive our car home.

Bob was on his way to the hospital. While we waited for him, we made small talk and while they were there, I don't remember feeling sad. The pain killers were obviously working. I know that I didn't cry. After all, I hadn't left the hospital without our baby, yet. I wouldn't allow myself to cry...mostly because I was afraid to in front of others. I was seriously afraid that the Psych Department would be called in if I started to fall apart. (Remember, there was no logical thinking going on in my head.) After Bob arrived, we went to the cafeteria and had lunch. I was finally discharged around 4:30. I was wheeled out to the parking garage, climbed in our van that was purchased because we were outgrowing the car, and I cried all the way home. I kept thinking, "What just happened?" When I sit, all I do is think which makes me cry. Bob held my hand in the van and said that when I cry, he feels inadequate. (I think that what he meant is that he couldn't do anything to fix this, and that made him feel helpless.)

We stopped at Walmart to have my prescriptions filled. It seemed like everyone was pregnant and there were babies everywhere. It was so difficult walking around in so much emotional pain and no one had a clue what had just happened to us. I still looked like I was at least 6 months pregnant. I was dreading someone coming up to me and asking when our baby was due.

When we arrived home, I think I hugged Maddy and our friend. It was difficult to look at anyone. Supper was in the oven. A few days before, I had our groceries bought, meals planned, and some meals made up in the freezer. This was one of those meals. How the Lord provides! His plans were so different than mine. We sat on the couch, but I have no clue what was talked about. We had supper, talked for awhile with our friends, then everyone left. We all went to bed. All I remember is wanting to be close to Bob. We talked, kissed a lot, and held each other. I no longer felt as though I needed to “be strong”. In bed, in the darkness, there was no holding back.
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Some might think that we've fallen off the face of the earth. I don't remember ever being good at keeping in touch with others. Calling, writing, or sending cards hasn't been my strongest point. We've felt it was necessary to stay hidden behind our hill the last 2 years. It's how we have been able to survive...to somehow keep going when our summer plans drastically changed in May '10. Bob has always had the God-given knack for building things. He amazes us with his talent. I've built plenty of walls inside of myself without a hammer and nails...walls that need to come down. The only way I feel that I can do that is by writing. My mind goes blank when I try to talk...so many thoughts and no way of putting those thoughts into words except on paper.

Grief is such an unpredictable roller coaster ride of emotions. Everyone means well...we know that. We all want to say or do the right thing...some do, some don't. Some aren't able to overcome the awkwardness of being around someone whose baby died. We make others too sad, so it's just easier for them to stay away...easier for them. The subject is avoided and that has been more devastating for me than watching Grace die in my arms. Again...everyone means well. In the past, I've avoided others using the same poor excuses we have often heard, "I didn't want to upset you," "I don't want to make you cry," I didn't know what to say." Pretending it didn't happen doesn't work. Acknowledgement means everything. Seeing silent tears from a friend standing off to the side meant more to me than listening to the thoughtless chatter of someone who felt it was better to say something rather than nothing. That probably doesn't make sense, but many things on this earth don't.

Nothing I say is meant to hurt or blame anyone. I don't talk much about our daughters who we get to share our lives with. They are not my struggle. Life after Grace is, at times. I don't talk much about the loving support we have received either. I need to talk about the things that cloud my head...the things that keep the walls up. This isn't about me or anyone else. It's about how I can glorify God through this.

We no longer try to wrap our minds around God's plans for us. We just trust Him...and it's not easy. Our faith continues to be refined every day. For that, we are thankful.

What I share here will be difficult. I don't open myself up to many. I'm too afraid of what others will say or won't say. Maybe this will give others a better understanding of what goes on inside my head. If you think you've figured me out, please let me know, because I'm still trying to understand me.

As I just said, I want to glorify God through this. I want others to see that side of me. Some do and many don't. I continue to have a difficult time rejoicing on the outside, but I do. I have joy and peace but it is no longer the unquenchable joy and peace we long to find here on earth. My joy is found in the sure hope of heaven...the sure hope of seeing our loved ones again as we continue to miss them. It's difficult surviving someone that we imagined sharing our lives with. Thankfully, Grace shared her entire life with us, and we know without a doubt, that she lives in heaven with her Savior.