Why Remembering Isn't As Hard Today

Today is the second anniversary of John's death, and while I am fully aware of this day and think of him, I do not feel the sadness and grief as I did on the 16th. It was this way as well last year. I cannot completely explain it. It is as if the day of his death was a great letting go. That it still is. A day to exhale, chest concave and loose.
When he was born, there was a road that must be taken. A path to walk filled with hope, chance, pain, worry, love, joy, and faith.
On the day he died, he went alone. Straight into the arms of Jesus, and I believe, reunited with his twin sister that was lost so early on. I could not make that journey with him. It was for him alone to take. I released a precious gift, so quickly gotten, knowing I would someday take the same journey. The one of gasping for the last breath, of feeling beating stopping, and a new path spreading out brilliantly before me. 

Today though, I rest, knowing that he is safe. Free from harm and sin. That he is waiting, worshiping the King, and happier than all of us have ever known.
There is great freedom in that rest.
And because of that, great comfort in today.

Would A Rose By Any Other Name Smell As Sweet?

So many have reached out ,to offering kind words in remembrance of my son. Tender thoughts, heartfelt sentiments. All meant something special and was a salve to my heart.

My dear friend Brandi, did something I will never forget.

She bought me roses.

4 pink. 2 white and blue.

4 for my girls.
2 for my boys.

And her whole family wrote a letter to John. Not to me, but to him. I was allowed to read it if I wanted. (I guess being the Mom gets you some privileges. <wink>)

I asked her permission to post it here.

July 16, 2014

Dear John,

Happy Birthday Lil' Buddy! Our tribe remembers this very special day. We want you to know a bit about your very sweet Mama.
First of all . . . your Mama is the kindest woman. She has a heart as big as Texas . . . although deep down inside we think she wishes she could fix her hair like those "big haired" Texas gals!!!
Secondly, she misses you like the dickens. We know she would give anything to wrap her arms around you and give you a great big squeeze!
Last but not least, she is a friend to all! You would be so proud of her! She has an amazing ability to see all of Hashem's creation with the eyes of the Creator . . . What abundant love!
So John, we can't wait to meet you! We pray for Shalom for your family.
Love,
Our Tribe

First, let me preface by saying they were way too kind in their description of me.
Second, when I opened the letter I was not expecting that. I never thought of telling him about his family. I thought it was a beautiful way to a knowledge his life.
Sometimes, it is hard for people to think of him as anything other than a miscarriage. I believe those are just as painful, so please do not think that I am saying this loss is greater.
It's just . . .different.
When he lived for such a short time,
when we couldn't take him home,
when our children weren't allowed to meet him for fear of NICU infection,
for many he became a blip. An anomaly. A sad thought.
I am not expecting or even wanting for people to remember him or the day the way we do. I do not expect anything.

And maybe that is why this gift was so very sweet. 
Brandi never met him. But she knows him. 
She never held him, but she embraces him. 
She never saw him, but she remembers him.
And it makes a lonely heart, feel not so alone.
Thank you friend.

A Birthday

Today, 2 years ago, my little 9.3 oz love was born.
A fighter till the end, strong in spirit,
heavy on soul,
not on size.
He graced me with his presence,
fought for me for as long as he could,
and died in my arms.
Comforting his Mama as he made the sweet journey to walk with the King.
I miss him so.
And I am so happy he is where no pain can touch him,
where he sings praises to the most High God in perfect peace.
I am happy to know someday, I will be reunited with him, in God's perfect way,
and that we will sing, 
"Holy Holy Holy is the Lord God Almighty"
Together.

Happy Birthday Sweet John.

Today - In The Journey

23 weeks. 3 days pregnant.

That is where I am today.

1 more day in my last pregnancy and I was being airlifted to deliver my tiny treasure, a starving 9.3 oz boy, with the will of a fighter and a soul destined to dance with Jesus.

In this time,2 years ago, I was fighting enormous amounts of pain, fear, and unknowns.

John's birthday is July 16th. Not so very far away. I feel like I am reliving his journey . . .

except for that the journey of this little girl is nothing like his. I feel her kick and crash, tumbling around in my belly, and I smile. But, I think of him, and his little kicks and his little crashes, and I think of how very small he really was. And I feel so very sad that I couldn't help him. 

It is a hard month here. Many moments of missing our little man. Many moments of rejoicing that our little girl is growing safely in my womb. Many moments of wondering how long my body will keep working to grow her. Many moments of asking God why? How? Should we? Shouldn't we? Will we? What if?

I long for heavenly days, millennial days, when I will know the face of my boy restored.

I look forward to meeting this new treasure. This soul growing safely, in the dark recesses of my belly.

I am grateful for my journey, albeit a hard one.

For it causes me to seek the face of God.

And Jesus becomes ever more so real in my heart, and in my world, and in the world of those around me as I keep journeying down the road of unknowns.

PSALM 61 Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer.

2 From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

3 For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy.

4 I will abide in thy tabernacle for ever: I will trust in the covert of thy wings. Selah.

5 For thou, O God, hast heard my vows: thou hast given me the heritage of those that fear thy name.

6 Thou wilt prolong the king's life: and his years as many generations.

7 He shall abide before God for ever: O prepare mercy and truth, which may preserve him.

8 So will I sing praise unto thy name for ever, that I may daily perform my vows.

Feeling Thankful

I don't know what has happened over the last few days . . .
God has been allowing me the freedom to grieve. To be real in my selfishness of wanting my sweet son back. To want to have a normal birth, a normal pregnancy, to just feel normal. 
I have cried out to Him and He is answering me. 
For every time I ask "why is it this way?" I hear a soft still voice.
It is not a thunder, it is a whisper.
And it is a salve to my festering wounds.
When I ask Him why I have to deal with MTHFR and shots, a black and blue stomach due to a simple needle thinning my blood, I hear Him say, "I have provided a way to help your baby grow."
When I tell Him about my fear of another c-section, a spinal, and all off my excess scar tissue in my uterus, I hear Him say, "Another c-section just might fix your insides."
When I tell Him my fears of this beautiful baby not growing I hear Him say, "She is big and bountiful in this moment and I have given you ultrasounds every 3 weeks to check and ease your heart."
I hear His provisions for every complaint. And ultimately in His fatherly patience I hear Him say,
"Are you only going to trust me when times are easy? Will you not trust me when times are hard? I sent my Son to die for you, am I asking of you too much?"
And I am humbled yet again,
at the magnitude,
at the majesty, 
and at the mercy,
of my King.
Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

1 Kings 19:11-12  And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD. And, behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the LORD; but the LORD was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the LORD was not in the earthquake: And after the earthquake a fire; but the LORD was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.

When Grief Becomes Sin

It happened so subtly, so sneakily, I hadn't noticed.
This grief became an excuse.
I never said it out loud. True enough.
But the lasting effects my health has dealt with,
the lasting effects my emotions have dealt with,
have allowed complacency.
A cold indifferent complacency.
My smile has been a sacrifice.
One I haven't been to ready to make.
I have sinned.
The Lord has put it on my heart to speak softly and sweetly,
but I have become crass, crude and coarse in my tone and language.
I thought what else was a woman who has lost a child supposed to do when hope deferred hits hard.
I never thought it consciously of course.
Satan is much to smart for that.
No he whispers in my ear, that this lot,
to lose a child, to deal with health that hasn't completely mended,
is unjust.
And after I rebuke that,
he whispers I deserve it.
That one tends to pervade.
I am weak.
And so the lies slip in.
Permeating the truth,
and choking me dry.
And so I give in and I sin.
I believe I cannot conquer and so I react painfully wrong.
Lazily, cowardly, and harshly.
To myself.
To others.
I compromise convictions.
I tell myself it is right.
But, I know . . . I know that it isn't.
It happened so small, so bit by bit, morsel by morsel,
that I hadn't realized the trail was set, the bait taken,
and the straight and narrow had become quite wide.
But, God.
God.
He keeps calling,
although the whisper was hard for me to hear this time.
I feel his fingers reaching for mine,
and I am turning back.

He Would Have Been One

His due date was for today one year ago.
A day before my birthday.
I always wanted a baby for my birthday.
But he was to be early.
Early born, early developed, and early taken.
My dear sweet John.
Precious son.

I miss him.
Every. Single. Day.
But Peace is passing my understanding,
and I am accepting.
Accepting his short life,
accepting his embrace by the Father,
accepting of a life without him,
and an eternity with him.
Thinking of you my dear sweet boy . . .
John Jacob Ephraim.

Grandpa Joe

Mary is named after him.
Our Mary Josephine.
He was my confidant, comrade, and a constant source of joy.
All who met him loved him because he welcomed people in.
He expected little until he expected much.
He listened more than he offered wisdom,
but when wisdom was offered it was profound.
He housed me for a time in my teens,
and lied when he said he liked my macaroni and cheese.
He took me on dates and encouraged me.
He knew all my secrets,
and he basked in the joy of each child that would be his great.
I loved him.
I love him still.
Good bye sweet Grandpa.
You will be missed.

I Keep Missing Him

I held sweet baby boy, 4 months big, beautiful, healthy, whole.

He smiled sugar kisses at me, and I was smitten.
He was my friends sweetness.
And I missed John.
I keep thinking that the missing will float away,
but it lingers.
And I hope for him, but he is with Eternity.
Sweet sugar kisses smiling,
I long to see his.
I wait, and I miss, and I hope.
And I am certain of what I hope for,

I am certain of Eternity.

The Permeating Aroma of Death

I have an unhealthy reaction whenever an accident happens,
I am afraid that my children are going to die.
A wound that is of little consequence, a mere Band-Aid and Tylenol, can fix,
sometimes becomes the beginning of an end in my mind.
Sometimes this fear is so burdensome that I have to call a friend to ask if my child is going to die from this. I know the answer is no, logically, of course no, but my spirit is sickened and poisoned by this fear that faces me. I cannot imagine the burden of facing another goodbye to the small hands and feet I cherish so much.
I have just recently started to reach out to a dear friend, and confide this grip. And it grips me darkly.
I wonder how long grief and it's consequences will plague my heart. I pray for His mercy and His mind often.
I do not know if anyone else faces this phobia, or if it is just ridiculous for me to even bring it up. But, I do know that Satan loves to keep us in silence, in bondage. If we don't step out from his grasp, give voice to our pain and declare His truth, we will never have freedom. So, tonight I make this step of voicing some of the dark, and I wonder if maybe, just maybe, I will be released. I also pray, that if someone else struggles with this that they would know they are not alone, and that the ugly, the wild, the warped, does not have to overcome.

Romans Chapter 8 Verses 35-39 KJV

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?

As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.

Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

 

 

Satan, wants more than anything, to use John's death as a stumbling block to my faith, to destroy the faith of my family, and to poison the unbelieving minds of those close to us. He will try and trick me any way he can. But! I know that the Word is a weapon, and that it brings truth.

 

Hebrew Chapter 4 Verse 12

For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.

 

And I know that when I am too weak, too broken to speak out His Words, His Power, His Glory, that He intercedes on my behalf.

 

Romans Chapter 8 Verses 26-27

Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God.

 

 

This is a mighty God I serve,

and I will walk the path He has prepared.

To Him be all the glory.

In the Times of Loss

My heart aches for this woman, this woman of faith, who has lost her third child.
Please, please pray for her.

I still grieve so for my little John, whom I still subconsciously look for when I am loading my children in the van to leave. I am always missing someone. There is always an empty seat and as I count my four and realize we are all here, there is a twinge of pain that catches my breath cold.

So I ask you as a grieving mother, please read her story and pray God's peace, His strength, His might, for her family.

I Blog For Me

There are few times we homeschool mothers say I do this for me.
Just for me.
It is selfish.
But,
I blog for me.
I don't have a professional blog.
I don't make any money for this.
I don't do this to be an example to others or my children.
I blog for me.
This is my outlet. My way to be creative.
My thoughts, uninterrupted.
It is selfish time.
But . . .
this selfish time, oh my,
it has helped me grieve,
in a privately open way.
It has helped me come alive out of the stupor which held me helpless.
And that has allowed me to give.
Give of the me that is awake.
Wide-eyes, realizing I am not alone,
that there are others grieving for theirs lost.
There have been some who have come along side my grief.
Yes, this selfishness has been super.
And I am grateful that God has given me permission
and an avenue for this season to use it.

Pictures of John

My Hazel sits drawing. She is scribbling furiously on paper white with blue ink pen. I let bubbles run over dirt stained dishes and turn to toss the butter drenched onions sizzling in the pan.
"Mamma?" A tug on my skirt and I turn.
"Yes?"
"Look! This is James and me and Norma and Mary, and we are playing. And look! Here is baby John with wings in the clouds watching us." She smiles bright.
And then she doesn't.
"I miss baby John."
And then she smiles again. "But I will play with him someday!"
I glance at my husband who is on the floor with the cat. He looks at me with sweet smile and lip lowered.
I smile at my Hazel and say, "Yes you will."
And I turn to the onions and let the tears swell.

10 Months

It's been 10 months now since John's birth. It hits hard.

10 months, is a moment, and forever.

10 months after my other babies I was pregnant or on my way to getting pregnant.

10 months is when everyone forgets. And your family doesn't want you to talk about it. And you are supposed to smile, and press on, and think of it as a movie you don't want to watch.

And I have smiled, and pressed on, and slowed talking about it. It has been my duty.

But today . . .
Today I want my son. I want my life and health restored. And I want people to REMEMBER!

I have been praying, and I have been studying. Searching and seeking.

And the Lord led me to this,

Psalm 116:17
I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the name of the LORD.

And it is a sacrifice! To thank the Lord for your dead son. And it is hard to call upon Him when it feels He's left you.

But feelings are deceitful. And Eve is so often deceived.

So I bow my head and lift up my heart, "Lord, thank you for 4 days. Lord, thank you for 4 days. Lord, thank you."

And I cry, because the sacrifice humbles me, puts hope in me, and begins the next round of healing.

And I am Grieving

Just an hour ago, my Dad's voice is chipper, talking about my children,
he's rushed on the phone,
and then he interrupts himself.
"Grandpa is failing fast. I go back out tomorrow. It's a matter of days."
I knew Grandpa's end was coming, but the phone call found me dumb.
And I cried.

I love my Grandpa. I have lived with him, I have laughed with him and he knows all my secrets.

My Dad hurried off the phone, unable to process his own grief.

For the leaving of this earth means a journey somewhere else.
I do not know what my Grandpa believes.
He does not talk about such things.
But I do know that God is good.


Here it is though. The swelling of sadness in my soul. I know this ache. I have not finished processing the ache my son left. And while my Grandpa has lived a life full of family, full of love, full of greatness, full . . .
it is running its course.
for life inevitably brings death.
And I ache all the same.
This grief . . . this grief . . . this grief,
it is so very grave.


And yet . . .
there is life. Abundant.
It is life that never ends, life full of purpose, life with passion,
a life of praise, of worship, of love, of adoration,
life beyond the grave.


Psalms 100:4  Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name.

I thought I Could Put it Away . . .

That I could just stop blogging about my little man. That now that his story was preserved on page, that his box sits still, full of grey, on my dresser, moved every two weeks to be dusted, that I could put this chapter behind, but . . .

My arms are still empty.

He is still gone.

And I am still sad.

Sadness is a scary thing. Anger will boil and burn and fizzle out. Happiness is fun and flitty and leads to peaceful sleep, but sadness . . . it is an empty hole.

And it just keeps on being empty.
You can't fill it. You can't patch it. You can't cover it and you can't run from it. So when the shock is gone, and the anger flames quench, and sadness blankets the landscape . . .

It becomes very, very, real.

And I sit with real. And I sit with it lonely. And I look at his box. What is left of his flesh, and I miss his soul.

John's Story Part Seven The Final Chapter

There is so much more to John, to his birth, life, death, than I wrote. There is so much more to my story of recovery. Infections, grief, medicine, choices, and not so graceful testimonies. I am a human grieving mother after all. I have gotten mad. I have lost my cool. I may write more on the subject at some point. I may share more of his beautiful moments. I hope I share those, but for now, I want to take a turn at the here and now and share the life we have. The normal that is becoming us, and the way God takes care of a family after great loss. Thank you for joining me with remembering John. I hope you stay with me as we live without him here, but carry him with us, in our hearts, in all we do. He has changed the landscape, the colors have brightened. He has changed our spirits, we have expectancy we never knew. He has changed our hope, heaven has never seemed so real.

A buggy day.

I have the flu. Not the stomach flu, but the hack, ache, chills, sweat, head pound kind of flu.
It's really not a big deal.
But it is.
I am sick, again.

I have been sick for the better part of a year. And it affects all of us. How do you be a good mother, when you are always getting sick? As soon as a rhythm sets in, BOOM! I am down again. And Mary is almost 2. A monkey. Climbing walls and literally falling every 10 minutes.
What is the Lord teaching me in all this? What is His voice saying? And why can't I hear it clearly?
Could it be the big glob of fog that covers my eyes and my thoughts, due to illness,
due to grief?
Lord, show me how to be a good Mom during this time, and let this time end soon.

I will watch for you Lord. I will turn my face to you. I will wait.


And I will pray.