One Week Ago Today

May 27, 2010~Thursday~1 week

Today, I played back all of the events that took place one week ago. I knew exactly what happened at which moment. (This is what I would do most Thursdays for several months...and Thursdays weren't the only days.) I was trying to heal physically, but when there was no baby in our home, I really had no excuse to just sit around. I tried to keep busy outside by pulling weeds. No matter what I did, I was going to cry...there was no “taking my mind off things” like I was already beginning to hear...so I figured that I could cry and accomplish some work outside. I spent a lot of time on the swing with Heather those first days, too.

I emailed a friend to wish her a “Happy Birthday” today. In April, I finally got around to telling her that I was expecting. We didn't talk very often, but we kept in touch. I said that Bob, Britt, and Maddy were in WI and that I was home with Heather feeding the animals and healing. (She didn't know about Grace yet.) I also wrote that every birthday celebrated now must be even more special after surviving cancer.

Cousin Jenny called at just the right time. The morning was difficult and she listened. She's living with a sister in heaven.

Later that day, the friend I emailed called and left a message because she was concerned by my message. I called her back and talked to her mom that night. I explained that we lost Grace and her mom told me that her cancer is back. She found this out around Mother's Day. When I heard this my heart just sank and I thought, “What am I crying for?”

May 28, Friday

Bob called from WI this morning to see how things were going. He talked a lot about our friends from St. Paul's and the condolences offered. So many of them have suffered losses and understand our pain. It sounded as though Bob was really enjoying his time in WI , and I was happy for him. But his tears stopped days ago. I couldn't control mine, and I'm alone in TN with no one to talk to.

Our pastor's wife called and said that she was bringing out a book for me to read called “When Your Baby Dies”. She already read an article in June's “Forward in Christ” that she said would help me. “I will...rejoice and be glad” is about a family who is living with their baby in heaven. It is truly amazing how this article came to us only 8 days after we experienced something similar. I contacted the magazine and asked how to get into contact with the mom this article was written about.

Later this afternoon, I needed to take Heather to the doctor. She had been feeling ill for a couple of days, and I didn't want to wait till after the weekend. I had already sent my maternity clothes with Bob to give back to my sister when he went to WI. I kept one small maternity top that would hopefully fit. I hated looking at myself in the mirror, because I still looked pregnant. I was afraid that someone would ask me when I was due. After taking a shower and getting dressed, I sat on the bed and cried. I didn't want to leave the house. I was able to drive because I hadn't taken any medication since yesterday.

I was relieved when we got to the doctor's office because there was only one car in the parking lot. When we checked in, I handed the receptionist my debit card. I immediately felt sick to my stomach when I pulled it out of my wallet. It has an Anne Gedde's picture on it with an infant covered with roses, and it's pink. (The color pink reminds me of Grace.) The receptionist commented on the card and showed the picture to another co-worker. I didn't mention what just happened to us only 8 days earlier. I was too afraid of what their reaction would or wouldn't be. When Heather and I sat in the waiting room, she noticed the baby in the car seat. I couldn't look at the baby and tears were running down my face. I was so profoundly sad inside, and no one knew about it. I wasn't sure if Heather was confused and wondered why they had a baby and we didn't. She just kept staring and pointing saying, “Mom, look at that baby.” After Heather's doctor visit, I asked the nurse practitioner how long it would take for my belly to go away. I told her about Grace and she gave me a hug. I told her that I thought I'd look pregnant forever, but it was only 8 days after. She was very sympathetic and said to give it 2 months. If I still had issues, there were other alternatives that could help.

After the appointment, we needed to go to Walmart to fill Heather's prescription for her ear infection. It was so difficult carrying this pain inside. While we waited for her prescription to be filled, we walked around the store. I was pretty sore from the C-section. I was still wearing nursing pads and leaking because my milk had come in only 4 days ago. Slowly, we walked through the store. Thankfully, Heather wasn't feeling well and willingly rode in the cart. I wouldn't have been able to chase her around the store if she walked. We saw my friend who came out early today. She was doing a little shopping. I held in all of my emotions, because I was so uncomfortable crying in front of anyone especially when I didn't see their tears. I told her how painfully engorged I was. Innocently she said, “Why don't you just pump?” I started to cry. She had no idea how desperately I wanted to, how many times in the last 4 days I thought about doing that very thing. I should be nursing my baby! The breast pump sits unused in our home.

May 29, Saturday

Bob was coming home today with Britt and Maddy. The last time I saw Britt was the first part of April.

I received a phone call in the morning by someone wanting to know how things were. I can't remember what we talked about, but I remember wanting to get off the phone several times during our conversation. Some people don't even try to help. (I'll say this several times throughout my journal... “Thankfully, they have no clue!”) I can't forget her comment about having more children. She said with a chuckle, “You're done then, right?” It was more of a statement, like I'd be an idiot to have more, especially at my age. I couldn't even answer her. I choked back tears and eventually said, “We can't have any more.” Sometimes this is still hard to believe. Then, she went on to say how she had her two kids in her 20's, and if she found out that she was pregnant now at 44, she'd cry and be so angry. I wanted to hang up.

Before we got off the phone she said one more thing that I'll never forget, “Well, you'll get past this hiccup and things will be o.k.” HICCUP? Hiccups are annoying and go away after a few minutes. (Almost 2 years later, I'm taken back to this conversation every time I hear a hiccup. I think of how I still have my hiccup and how I want to tell her that mine hasn't gone away.)

I was already learning that our well-meaning, yet miserable, comforters feel a need to say something...anything, but usually what falls out of their mouths when they open them is a whole bunch of stupid. There are some who just need to talk about anything but what you're going through. The "thoughtless chatter" (that's what Bob and I call it) is overwhelming at times and it just sounds like "Blah, blah, blah," to us.

We had a living room full of flowers and were still receiving cards in the mail. The flowers were dying, and I had a hard time looking at them because they were a sad reminder. We appreciated the kind thoughts that went along with the flowers; however, I'll never send flowers again to someone who lost a loved one. Flowers die.

Bob and the girls arrived home that evening. He showed me the benches from our families and a plaque that reads, “Those we have held in our arms for a little while, we hold in our hearts forever.” We would have liked it if the bench had a Scripture passage on it. What it says is absolutely how I feel. At that time, we needed some encouragement though.

“Our hearts still ache in sadness

And secret tears still flow.

What it meant to lose you

No one will ever know.”

 That night, I don't remember all that happened, but I know that there were many tears, we talked, and we held each other in bed.

The First Week

May 23, 2010 ~ Sunday...Day 3

We didn't go to church today. It would be the only service that we'd miss. I just got home from the hospital yesterday, and I didn't think that we would have been emotionally able to go. Many didn't even know what happened yet, and it would have been awkward seeing those wondering looks..."Wasn't she pregnant? Where's the baby?" (I remember getting a few of those looks a week or two later...very awkward.)

I finally called my mom in WI before she and dad left for early church. It would be the first time I talked to her since Grace died. I don't remember what we said.

One of our church elders and his family stopped over after church today. He had a very nice devotion for us. I can't remember a word of it. He is a very soft-spoken man. In many ways, he reminds me of my dad. When he spoke, his lips were quivering and I thought he was going to cry. I'll always remember that. 

Before eating lunch, we prayed. This had never been so difficult to do. Through tears, I forced myself to say, “Oh give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good.” I know that we should always thank Him, even for the tests He gives us...and He is good, I know that. But this was hard to say after losing Grace. After lunch, Pastor brought the flower arrangement from church that Bob dropped off the day before. He would be back later with his wife and would do a devotion then.

My milk came in the night before, so today I was very uncomfortable. I showered before our company came and cried the entire time. I had this post-pregnant body and nothing to show for it. I was engorged and in so much physical and emotional pain. My stomach still looked like I was at least 6 months pregnant. I didn't want to wear my maternity clothes, but I had no choice. Only 3 days had gone by.

Today, we also started receiving flowers. Bob's mom and her husband had a nice flower arrangement sent of pink, red, and white roses and carnations. After the 3rd or 4th deliveries, I was beginning to wonder when the florists were going to say "Congratulations!" I remember answering the door, smiling, and saying "Thank You." When the living room was so full of them though, it just took its toll on me...especially when they started to die, too. We didn't get flowers because we had a baby. We got flowers because our baby died, and that was hard to realize.

As the week went on, we also received so many cards—not the joyful, congratulatory baby cards that we received after our other 3 pregnancies, but cards of sympathy and sincere condolences. Our living room had so many flowers in it. They were all beautiful, yet a painful reminder of losing our baby. A few days later, they died and in some ways it was a relief to throw them out. The personal messages included in the cards were heartfelt and sincere. They were meant to provide comfort, and in time they will. Each card made me cry, sometimes uncontrollably. It was nice to know that people were thinking of us, but I wanted the cards to stop coming so I wasn't constantly reminded about our baby that never came home with us. On days when there were no cards, I'd get upset because it seemed as though nobody cared and their lives got to go on like normal.

May 24, day #4 ~ Right away this morning we received a phone call saying that meals were prepared by some church friends and were going to be delivered...When would we like them? Bob answered this call, and I just shook my head. Are we supposed to be hungry? That was the one thing that I had planned for...Meals were already prepared in the freezer and the list of other meals that Bob and the girls could make was posted on the fridge. Meals are delivered to moms who bring babies home from the hospital. That gives the deliverer an excuse to see the new baby. I certainly didn't want to eat someone else's food and then feel as though I had to entertain them. (I'm sure that this isn't what I was expected to do, but remember that my mind wasn't in a good place.) Meals are also brought when someone dies and there's a funeral. Well, we already made the decision that we weren't going to have a funeral, and no one in our family was coming anyway, so we didn't need the food.

I've often felt that our refusal of the kind gesture of food was taken as "They don't want or need anything. They just want to be left alone." I realize that people want to "help" and doing something...anything...is their way of showing support. Again...we didn't know what to think or do. We heard so many times that "You're such private people." I took that as their poor excuse as to why no one ever said anything. Food brings comfort...nothing was going to make this better or easier for us...especially not food. What I needed then, and continue to need today, is to talk...to feel as though it's o.k. to talk about this...this crazy animal I call grief.

Bob and I went back down to the Vanderbilt clinic to have the staples removed this morning. It was a quiet and uncomfortable appointment. This day was particularly difficult because it was my 1^st time out. Bob had been great—very loving and supportive, but I felt so empty and alone. While sitting in the waiting room, I wondered how many others were suffering silently. 

The nurse took me into the exam room, and I didn't make conversation with her. I was still unable to control the tears and kept thinking that I should have a baby with me today. After all, that's why I have staples in my belly. I didn't know if she knew that we lost our baby. She never mentioned anything about it or asked how the baby was doing. She had me lie down on the table and turned her back to get things ready. Not a word was said. It felt like it took her forever before she started pulling out the staples. While her back was turned, I was wiping tears but turned them off as soon as she turned around. Maybe they're instructed to not say anything, but her acknowledgement would have been a relief in so many ways.

On Wednesday, May 26, Bob and Maddy drove to WI to attend Brittany's 8^th grade graduation service and to bring her home for the summer. I stayed home to heal and take care of our animals. A young friend spent the day with me which was nice, but what I really needed was to be left alone. I absolutely couldn't sit, because all I would do was think. I had her help me make jam just to kill some time. (Isn't that what everyone does after having a C-section?) When Heather wanted to play with her, I cleaned Maddy's and Heather's bedroom. We were going to have Grace sleep in their room, because the crib was still set up in there for Heather. I took the crib apart and put it in the garage. I also got rid of anything else that we were saving for our baby. 

Throughout the day whenever I wasn't around our friend, I cried. Our pastor's wife came that night to take her home. She brought her boys with her and I had a difficult time looking at them. The last time they saw me, I was still pregnant. I watched them a couple of days each week and would talk to them about my big belly. They would just giggle. Would they ask about the baby? I assumed that they were told not to. When they left, I felt relieved. It was excruciating to hold back the tears. When I didn't see tears from my friends, I felt that I couldn't cry either. I'm sure that they were having a difficult time holding theirs back, too. 

When Heather and I said prayers before bed, we said, “...and God bless Baby Grace.” We talked a little about heaven and Heather said that she thought Grace was playing with other little children. Of course, the tears were flowing when we were talking, and Heather said, “And dear God, please make my momma stop crying."

Before I went to bed, I checked on Heather. I just stood there and watched her sleeping peacefully. I was so thankful that God had already blessed us with 3 beautiful, healthy daughters, especially after seeing Grace hooked up to machines. She would have lived a life of suffering. I prayed that I'd never take them for granted again.

Feels Like...

Moments after Grace's birth...when I was in my own hospital room alone, even before Bob came back from the NICU to tell me that he named our daughter...I began to feel as though I was being punished for something I did. I think that this might be part of the reason that I couldn't call anyone to tell them that we had another daughter. After all, Bob already told me that she was going to die, and with the history of how my family dealt with “things” (Unheard of Decisions post), what would their reaction be? I was already afraid that once I told them, they'd quietly say, “OK...Well,we won't tell anyone. We'll act like this didn't happen.”

Wow! I finally said that “out loud”! I'm certain that no one actually thinks this way, but my mind was going so many different directions in those early moments, days, months, and even today. I began to assume what others would say or how they would react even before they knew about Grace. I don't want to blame this all on my childhood, but I do believe that it had/has a lot to do with how I dealt/deal with things.

This morning in my “quiet time” reading, I came to a passage that reassured me that we are not being punished for something that we did. I absolutely know that God doesn't punish us for our sins...that Jesus already wiped our slate clean when he suffered and died...but there are moments when I need to be reminded. There are moments when the pain of missing the life we imagined sharing with Grace is so bad that it feels like a punishment...it feels like anything but love.

In John 9:3, Jesus responds to the disciples when they asked why a man was born blind. They wondered who had sinned, the blind man or his parents. “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.”

At times, I try to look for the purpose in all of this...even in the sufferings of others. I want to find the answers to the questions. I want to be able to say, “Oh, that's why this happened.” I've also learned that we may never know what God's purpose is in allowing pain and sorrow into our lives. What I do know is that He is refining my faith. I remember six words my Godmother wrote in a card shortly after Grace died. She said, “Someday all will be made clear.” On that day, when we see Jesus face-to-face, I don't think that any of this will even matter. We will be experiencing true peace and joy with our Savior for eternity.

I'm pretty sure that most would say that my response to suffering hasn't been very God-pleasing. (Again...I'm assuming what others think.) At times, my silence might be mistaken for anger and jealousy. I'll be the first to admit that I've had those feelings and still do today...not all of the time, but they creep in. I am constantly processing things, learning how to react to well-meaning yet insensitive comments. The most common reaction that I continue to struggle with is the silence. The silence has been deafening.

I'm going to quote Nancy Guthrie who wrote “The One Year Book of Hope”. Nancy validates so many of my feelings. In the devotion “Displaying the Glory of God,” she says, “Instead of demanding that God explain himself and his purpose, you can decide to trust him, recognizing that your circumstances provide an unparalleled opportunity to glorify God just by trusting his purpose, even when you can't see his purpose.”

One of my favorite Bible passages comes from Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." This passage reassures me that God is in control. I don't need to try to find the answers...I only need to continue to trust.

What a privilege we have been given! It certainly feels like anything but a privilege. This definitely is not a punishment!

“...No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.” 1 Corinthians 2:9

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 4^th 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.

The Day After...May 21, 2010

Bob made a Facebook posting shortly after Grace died. It read:

To all our friends and extended family,

It is with a joyful yet sad heart I pass along this message. On Thursday, May 20, @ 11:22 a.m., God blessed us with the birth of our 4^th daughter, Grace Elaine. Through His divine wisdom, He chose to take her home with Him @ 10:20 p.m. Although we don't always understand the why's and how's of life, God assures us He is here for us all. We rejoice in knowing that Grace was made a child of God through Holy Baptism before her passing and is living eternally with her heavenly Father.

Just before 8 a.m., one of the NICU nurses that spent the night with us, brought the moldings of Grace's feet and praying hands. I was amazed at how beautifully they turned out. The nurses and doctors had all been so wonderful through all of this. They showed so much care, compassion, empathy, and sympathy. One of Bob's friends, a fellow firefighter, stopped by after getting off shift and offered his condolences. For some reason, I could never cry when anyone came in the room. I felt as though I had to be strong for everyone. I kept saying things like, “She's in a better place.” “She would have lived a life of suffering.” “This was God's will, and we've accepted that.” This was all easy for me to say. I hadn't left the hospital without our baby, yet. I spent the rest of the morning alone in my hospital room. I didn't even think to call anyone.

Bob came with Heather just before lunch. Dr. B. (who sent us to the hospital the day before) stopped in and offered his condolences. He wanted to know the history of the pregnancy. I told him that back in December the doctor saw subtle signs of cysts on the brain, a small hole in the heart, etc. But I told him that we didn't have further testing done because it wouldn't have changed anything for us. He said that if we had testing done, they wouldn't have let me go this long. I didn't comment. I thought, “That's what you think.” I said that we knew of people that had testing done and were told that their baby had some issues. Thankfully, their baby was born perfectly healthy. We've also heard of those who have had testing done and the tests showed nothing, but their baby was born with difficulties. I wondered how many babies are aborted because of what tests show. Dr. B. said, “You should talk to more than 1 or 2 people.” Regardless, we weren't going to let the doctors play God.

Pastor H. came after lunch and gave a devotion. I don't remember any of his words. I just cried the entire time.

At about 2, Bob called “Ma” (our TN mom) and told her about Grace. She was going to come after work for a visit. Bob left at 3 so he could be home when Maddy got off the bus. All that she knew up until this time was that she had a baby sister. Maddy and Heather spent the night at our neighbor's home. We didn't tell her yesterday, because we didn't want her to be upset at school. (I can't believe that I was actually expecting her to go to school after hearing this news. There wasn't any logical thinking going on at this time.) I don't know how Bob told her, but Maddy's reaction was what we expected. She didn't say anything. Some time later, I asked her if she cried. She said that she cried one time in the shower. (Maddy is so much like me.)

After telling Maddy, Bob called up to WI to tell Britt. (She was living with my sister while attending a Lutheran grade school, finishing out 8^th grade.) He made sure that she was alone. He said that he couldn't get the words out and Britt was crying and hysterical. She wanted to come home, “Now!”

Bob, Maddy, and Heather arrived back at the hospital by 6 p.m. “Ma” was already visiting with me. They all went to the cafeteria for supper. When Maddy came back to the room, she looked at the moldings of her baby sister. She thought that Grace's hands and feet were actually in the plaster. I think that we also let her look at pictures of Grace.

Bob didn't call the family to tell them about Grace until after he told Brittany. He didn't want anyone to tell her before she heard it from him. Britt, Maddy, and Heather didn't get a chance to meet their baby sister. At the time, we felt this was the right decision. The tubes and machines keeping her small body alive may have been too difficult for them to see and understand. We will continue to include her in our lives. I always want the girls to remember that they have a sister who lives in heaven.

Bob took the girls home at around 8:30. Once they left, I remember feeling so alone and cried the rest of the night.

One year ago today (May 21, 2009) was Ascension at our church. During the service Heather became very ill. Her breathing was strange and she was very hot. We headed home right away, but on the way Bob noticed how terrible her breathing was so we headed to the ER. While he waited with her, I took Britt and Maddy home. By the time I got back to the hospital, Heather was already in a room lying lifeless on a bed. They gave her morphine, inserted a catheter, took blood, tried to start an IV several times as she screamed. I felt like I was going to pass out. There came a time when I was wondering if we should call our pastor. That's how sick she looked to me. They never found out was was wrong with her. Thankfully, we brought her home on May 22.

How life changed exactly one year later. We would leave the hospital without one of our daughters.

Canned Relish

Today, March 21, 2012, as I was making lunch, I was taken back to August of 2009...back when I still lived in my content world of oblivion. I continue to be caught completely off guard by the simplest things that trigger thoughts of Grace...almost 2 years later. Anything and everything takes me to that place.
I took down a jar of pickle relish that was dated 8/3/09. My mind went back to the summer of '09 when my sister and her family visited us in July. They just announced that they were expecting their 4^th child. We were all excited and immediately knew that we wanted another baby, too.

Within days, I began planning to can a bunch of veggies from our garden. I assumed that I was going to be busy with a baby next summer, so there might not be time to plant a big garden. Our shelves were and still are stocked with pickles, okra, tomatoes, and apple butter dated 8/09 to 1/10. The most difficult dates to come across came from our freezer. Heather and I froze strawberry jam (5/18/10)...only 2 days before Grace was born and died. The day before that we were out picking strawberries. I was even teased (lovingly, I'm sure) by the farm owners as I walked to their patch. I heard them say that they never had anyone deliver in one of their fields before. I just smiled my half-grin. (I had heard so many comments on my size by this time and just didn't acknowledge anyone anymore.)

Back to the relish date 8/09...Little did we know that one year later we'd be planning Grace's memorial service on 8/8/10. After the initial shock wore off from May 20, we knew how important it was for us and for our family and friends to remember Grace, to acknowledge the gift of life our gracious Lord gave to her and blessed our family with.

Today, March 21, 2012, also brought me back to January 2010. Our Thrivent rep. (insurance man) was coming to our home today. The last time he saw us was Jan. '10 when I was pregnant. (I was wondering if he even remembered. Of course, we don't bring that subject up.) Five months later, we received an infant death benefit from Thrivent. I still wonder where the benefit is in infant death? I'll say this often, “We have a child who lives in heaven!” There is no greater benefit for a Christian...My clouded vision only wants that benefit to be for someone who has been blessed with a long life.

As our insurance man was getting ready to leave, he said that they had a little girl back in November. I asked what they named her, as I felt the stab in my heart. I only remember that her middle name is Hope. I love that name, too. We congratulated him, and I rejoiced silently because it continues to be difficult to hear of that joy. All I can remember about my birth experiences is watching Grace die. I don't remember the joy. I thanked him for coming out, shook his hand, and quickly went outside for some garden therapy. I am so thankful for the sure hope that we have of seeing our loved ones in heaven...and it continues to hurt.

Everyone's time of grace is different. God's timing is perfect! I trust that, and I continue to struggle...

I continue to be amazed at how anything and everything can cause my mind to spin...relish and our Thrivent rep. of all things!

Validated Feelings

It can be difficult for me to read the stories of others who have lost children. At times, I regret that we didn't do what someone else may have done. At times, I wish that we would have allowed our family and friends “in” right away. As time continues on, I do feel more at peace with the decisions we made in those early days...such unheard of decisions. We may have felt as though we were alone in the hospital room that day, but God was right there with us...He continues to carry us.

No two experiences are exactly alike. No one grieves in the same way. My husband and I are so different in our grief and that's o.k. It took me a long time to accept that. I couldn't figure out why he didn't feel the same way I did. How is he able to “put this on a shelf” when he needs to? I wish that I could do that. This doesn't mean that he loves Grace any less.

I continue to remind myself that the only thing that matters is that Grace lives in heaven. I don't even like to say that we lost a child. I'd rather tell people that we live with a child in heaven...not what we live without.

As I continue to read about the experiences of others who have lost children, I am relieved to learn that many, if not all, of my feelings and thoughts are validated. Others feel “this way”, too...to some extent. I'm not as crazy as I think. It appears that many who grieve are experiencing “normal” feelings (whatever “normal” means) that go along with suffering a loss.

Shortly after Grace died, I felt encouraged when I saw others cry who had lost children. I thought that I wasn't supposed to be sad because of the short time we got to spend with her. Many told me that they also felt as though their grief didn't match the amount of time they got to spend with their child. Many of these friends lost their babies before they were born.

I recently met a father who has survived his 15 yr. old son for 33 years. I met a mother who has survived her 7 yr. old son for 44 years. The love they have for their sons will live on until they see them again in heaven. They told me that not a single day passes that they don't think of or miss their sons.

We imagine sharing our entire lives with our children. Instead, Grace shared her entire life with us. We know, without a doubt, that she lives in heaven. We pray that our other children and loved ones never fall away so we can live with them forever, too.