Christmas... Just Not the One I Had Dreamed.

Christmas was a very emotional time for us.  I have cried a lot. I cried alone at my desk, in the car, and after holding other babies at parties.  Jack was missing from everything we did and didn't do this month.  I am usually crazed about anything Christmas: decorations, parties, food, tree lightings, shopping.  I love it all.  This year I did not even want to get a tree because it seemed like too much hassle.  The only thing I wanted to do was send out a Christmas card of our family, on earth and now in heaven.   So I did.  Maybe that is weird or morbid but I honestly don't care.  Jack is our son and he was here with us for 4 months and 26 days and he was going to be in our Christmas card picture.  This is the picture we used, taken at my husband's 30th birthday party in June.  What a happy day that was.

I am thankful that my husband jumped in to save Christmas this year.  He went to get a tree, carefully decorated it, and arranged for us to go to Boston for both Handel's Messiah and the Nutcracker.  He strung the lights outside and put the candles in the windows.  I am so blessed to be his wife.  I have grown to love my husband even more than I ever could have imagined before Jack. We complement each other so well, even in our grief.  It is very rare that we both down on the same day.  One of us is able to encourage and carry the other most days.  He truly picks me up when I just want to lay on the couch and forget about everything.  If he hadn't, this would have been the Christmas that wasn't. 

As time passes it becomes more and more real that we had a baby and now he is gone.  For months it seemed like a terrible dream, a nightmare. Especially when we were in the hospital for 31 days.  It did not seem like real life. Now I have bad dreams when I sleep and then each morning, I awaken to remember that Jack is still gone. 

In all of this mess, I am staying rooted in God's Word each morning. We are also beginning to take the other advice of eating well and exercising. We started working out together with a trainer three mornings a week and I am trying my hand at "clean" cooking.  Cooking (and obsessively combing Pinterest for recipes) occupies my mind and my hands for a while each day...and my husband doesn't mind coming home to a hot dinner either.  My dear friend lets me hold her baby boy at Church on Sundays and feel the sweet warm baby breath as the hymns float up to heaven.  I pray that I will hold another baby of our own next Christmas.  For now I am staying close to God, loving my husband and putting one foot in front of the other each day.

Please pray for us this weekend.  Our elderly dog is in rough shape and we need to put her down.  It will not be easy and I am so thankful that my husband offered to take her.  I just could not be there, considering.... I will stay behind researching goldendoodle puppies. If you know of any looking for homes in New England, let me know.

For the Mothers Who's Babies are Now in Heaven.

***This post may be difficult to read.  I am writing honestly about this topic for the other moms of children in heaven reading my blog.  You are not alone in your pain.  We can talk about this.  In fact, we must.  The pain is magnified in silence and loneliness***

Daddy, please don't look so sad. Momma, please don't cry.

Cause I'm in the arms of Jesus, and He sings me lullabies.

Please try not to question God, don't think He is unkind.

Don't think he sent me to you and then changed His mind.

You see, I'm a special child, I am needed up above.

I'm the special gift you gave Him, a product of your love.

I'll always be there with you, so watch the sky at night.

Look for the brightest star and know that's my halo's brilliant light.

You'll see me in the morning frost that mists your window pane.

That's me in the summer showers, I'll be dancing in the rain.

When you feel a gentle breeze from a gentle wind that blows,

Know that it's me planting a kiss there upon your nose.

When you see a child playing and your heart feels a tug,

Don't be sad, Mommy, that's just me giving your heart a hug.

So, Daddy, don't look so sad and Momma, please don't cry.

I'm in the arms of Jesus and he sings me lullabies.

-Unknown 

Yesterday was almost unbearable.  I cried on and off all day long.  I truly had no control over my emotions.  The cliche about them washing over you like huge unpredictable waves is a cliche because it is true.  Yesterday the waves crashed over me and held me in an undertow all day.

I guess I am grieving.  I was numb for so long that I actually started thinking I would be different than all the rest.  Maybe my strong faith would protect me from the despair of grief.  Perhaps I could pray my way out of the pain.  God may not have spared Jack's life but he could spare me my grief as some kind of a consolation.  I stood firm in my belief that Jack is happy and whole in the arms of Jesus and that I will hold him again when I get there.  I still believe that.  But now I feel the deep emptiness of my arms and the physical longing in my heart.

I do better when I can keep everything in a spiritual context.  Thinking of Jack in heaven, happy, playing with friends, in the arms of our Lord.  That is good.  I can find some peace in those thoughts.  And as long as I don't think of the physicality of Jack's death, I can stay in that spiritual place for a while.

But when I think of what his little body went through, I get physically ill.  I won't share pictures of his last week because I do not want one more person to think of my baby boy in that state.  When I think of his body I get angry.  I start down the road of "he should not have died".  I feel like a victim.  I have been robbed of my baby and of our life with him.  Birthdays, Christmases, trips to the zoo, his first puppy, graduations, his wedding.  Someone took him from me and I want him back.  That thinking can lead me into a spiral of despair.  I go there sometimes but I cannot stay there.

Josh and I were talking last night about this.  If we truly believe that God is sovereign, and we do, then we also must believe that October 6, 2012 was Jack's appointed time to be called home to heaven.  That God's plan for Jack was to be with us for 4 months and 26 days.  His work was done and he went home.  The circumstances were horrific, to be sure, and we may not ever understand the reason in this life.  However, there is peace in believing it is all as God means it to be.  Josh even joked that we should write a grief book someday...not any time soon though.  We have more to live though.

I went to Jack's grave this morning.  Something I have only done one other time since his burial.  The last time was horrible.  I stayed less than one minute.  I don't like being there because it brings me back into the physical side of my loss.  I know Jack is not in the ground there.  That is only his earthly shell.  But that is the baby that grew within me.  He came from me.  I fed that him and changed his diapers.  I bathed and snuggled him. I sang him songs and he slept in my arms.  And now he is in the hard frozen ground two miles from where I sit typing this.  It is so unbelievably unnatural. 

When we picked out his grave site, he had only been gone a few days.  I was walking around in a fog, numbly and thankfully letting others make decisions.  What did any of it matter?  It was suggested that his plot be in the row closest to the dirt path, rather than the middle row or back row along another path.  I immediately balked.  No!  Absolutely not.  That is dangerous.  He had to be in the middle row.  I did not want him near the street.  Can you believe that?  He is already dead and I didn't want him being near the cars that may drive past at what, 2 miles an hour?  I felt like he would be safer being set back an extra 10 feet.  I am still his mommy, even now.

When we went to the funeral home to make arrangements I cried hysterically because he was in the building and I could not hold him.  It went against every single instinct in my body not to tear though the rooms until I found him.  How could I not be holding him?  He is only a baby, he should not be alone.  How could you people leave him alone?

The day of his visiting hours, we arrived early.  We brought his bulldog pajamas because we had lost his very favorite octopus pair at the hospital.  We had his soft white blanket and his best friend, Oliver the Octopus.  I also tucked a copy of his favorite book "Snuggle Puppy" in with him.  Rationally, I know that he does not need a book, stuffed animal or blankie.  We are not ancient Egyptians.  He will not be able to take those things to the afterlife.  But I felt that I needed to send them along with him.  If I cannot snuggle him, Oliver can.

I hesitated about what happened next.  The thought of never being able to hold Jack again was so painful that I decided to ask to hold him one last time.  The mortician assured me that it was very normal, they are so kind, and I sat down while they brought him to me.  It was absolutely horrific.  It was not Jack, it was nothing like holding my baby boy.  I begged them to take him away as soon as they handed him to me.  I do not regret it.  I know if I had not, I always would have wondered if I should have.  I carefully shut my emotions down and prepared for what would be three straight hours of greeting friends, family, co-workers and strangers. They wept, I comforted.  I did not allow myself emotions.  Those stayed at bay for weeks.

I am so glad we had a full funeral for Jack.  I never considered doing it differently.  I felt very strongly about having his funeral service outside.  It could not be in the funeral parlor, that was for old people.  We could not have it at our church, we were expecting more people that it would hold.  We could not have it at the larger church in town, it just was not right.  It had to be outside.  I did not care that it was October in Maine, the temperature was in the 40s and the winds were likely to be whipping off the ocean.  It needed to be at the outside chapel at St. Ann's by the Sea.  And it was.

Jack was always most calm and at peace in the outdoors.  Whenever he was fussy, we just had to walk out the door into the yard and he would calm instantly.  He loved rides in his stroller, walking with me, jogging with Daddy.  There was no question.  He was happiest outside.

I looked at Jack's funeral as a way to tuck him in and put him to sleep one last time.  Josh's dad read a letter to Jack and told him they have a date at the nearest Dairy Queen in heaven.  Our pastor preached a beautiful sermon about the salvation that is available for each and everyone of us, if only we invite Jesus into our hearts and ask forgiveness for our sins.  And then Josh and I stood in front of the crowd, next to the tiny blue casket and sang "Jesus Loves Me", Jack's lullaby, one last time.  Lastly, I read Jack a bedtime story, "Wherever You Are My Love Will Find You."  This beautiful book was sent to us by a family friend when we were in the hospital.  It was perfect.  Please buy it and read it to your babies. 

Even though I was in a haze and could not even cry that day, I am glad we did it all.  I have peace about how we said good bye to our baby boy.  We laid him down to sleep that one last time.

This has been weighing on me for some time.  I knew I needed to write about this but it is not comfortable.  But this post is not for me today. I wanted to get though this much, for the mothers who lost their precious children in Connecticut today.  I have no idea if any of them will ever find this blog post. But I want them to know that they are not alone.  Tragically, there are many of us mommies with babies in heaven.  As unfathomable as this all is, they are with God tonight.  And God is with you too.  He will never ever leave your side. You are loved.  God bless you.

Answered Prayers.

I do not believe in coincidences. 

I believe God is in control and that He knew all of our days before we had even lived one.  That became very evident for me this past week.  God heard my prayers and my heart break and he answered me with a two things that had been set in motion years earlier.  If that sounds strange, I will explain.  Stay with me, this will make sense eventually.

A few years ago, when I was still "Single City Katie" living in downtown Chicago, I was invited to a jewelry party thrown by a dear friend of mine and the stylist was another good friend.  My first thought was "Oh man, I am going to have to buy something whether I like this stuff or not.  I'll feel bad or cheap if I don't.  Ugh.".

Well I went to the party and it was far from annoying.  I had a great time and I loved the jewelry and I bought this super cute chunky gold chain necklace and bracelet combo.  Over the next year or so I kept buying more of this jewelry from my friend's website and I amassed quite a collection.  All the while, my stylist friend kept talking to me about becoming a stylist myself.  I declined.  I was managing a team of 7 sales people, traveling all over the US for work, volunteering and attempting to look for Mr. Right.  I did not have time to be throwing in home Trunk Shows on top of that.  But I kept on shopping with her. 

Fast forward to 2011.  I moved to Maine where I had no friends or social life, changed jobs to a less demanding work from home position, and I was looking for a way to make friends and supplement our income....all of a sudden becoming a stylist sounded like a pretty good idea.  Josh and I prayed about it together for a while.  We went to an informational session in Boston (where Josh was one man in a room of about 200 women, haha).  We talked it over and I took the plunge, signed up and a week later we found out we were pregnant with Jack.  I had terrible morning sickness for the first 22 weeks.  I threw my first trunk show.  I mailed invites to 80 people and 6 came.  I started reconsidering our decision.

During that time, I had started a weekly Bible Study/Book Club with some other women in the neighborhood.  We were reading and discussing "The Power of a Praying Wife".  One of the other women said she wanted to host a Trunk Show in March, I was encouraged! 

The March show fell through.  We pushed it to April.  I was put on bed rest.  We cancelled again. Jack came in May.  We rescheduled for August.  August got busy, we pushed it to September.  September we were in the hospital all month, we put the show on hold again. October would be better.  October was worse, Jack went home to heaven. Maybe November?  No.  December 5th.  That would be the day.  And it was.

That morning I was talking to the wonderful postpartum nurse practitioner from my OB office.  I was telling her how hard it was to look back on Jack's short life and not know if he knew how loved he was.  To not know if he was happy here with us before things got really bad.  I had promised him so many times in the hospital that he had to go through these hard things before we could take him home.  I promised him he would get better and we would go home and do all sorts of fun things as a family.  I promised him all the tests and pokes and IVs and surgeries would make him all better.  And he didn't get better.  I feel like I lied to him.  I really hope he doesn't see me as a liar.  I just wish I knew that he knows how much he was loved and treasured.

Later that day, I went over to my friend's house to set up for the trunk show.  As I was pulling trays out of my bag, her four year old son, JH, was eating his dinner at the kitchen island.  All of a sudden he looked up and said "Mommy, I have to draw her something." (and he pointed to me across the room.)  I didn't think much of that but my friend told me how JH doesn't like to give his drawings to anyone.  They try to get him to draw something for his visiting grandparents and he says no.  He likes to keep every dinosaur, robot and pirate ship for himself.  Well, he sits down over his paper and goes to work.  I turned back to my table and when he was finished, JH presented me with this:

When his Mom asked him what it was, he explained that it was a cloud, a flower and a heart.  She has never seen him draw any of these things before.  She asked if he drew the cloud because of a cloud they had seen earlier that day.  He shook his head.  "No, I drew this for her because I LOVE her." And he hopped off his stool and walked over to me, handed me the picture and hugged me.

Not normal 4 year old boy behavior.  Not a coincidence.

JH's mom and I both agreed that that drawing is a gift from another little boy.  A baby boy who loved to be outside, who was happy outside.  A baby boy who knows he is loved. 

JH's mom cried.  I felt peace.  God had heard my cry and had sent me this drawing to assure my heart.  And he had orchestrated this meeting on this night with events that started years earlier.  He knows all of my days before I live them.  He knows what I will need and when.  And He loves me enough to send me encouragement precisely when I need it.  This drawing was a gift from my Lord, delivered on the exact day it was intended. 

So that is why we weren't able to get the show together in the 9 months before now.  It wasn't time.

Now that original gold chain played another role last week.  It has since been retired from the collection.  There is a Facebook group for stylists to exchange retired pieces. I just found out about it a few weeks ago.  One night I couldn't sleep.  I was laying in bed looking at Facebook on my iPhone and I saw that a woman was looking for that specific gold chain.  Five other stylists had already commented and offered theirs and I don't know why I even bothered but I offered mine, as well.  The next morning I awoke to an email from this woman in Texas.  She looked at my profile and saw I was in Maine, she was coming to Maine a few days later for Christmas Prelude.  Strange.  She wanted to connect with me over the other five women because she said she felt God leading her.  We began to exchange a series of emails and we discovered many other things in common.  Including, her friend who would be coming to Maine with her and had lost an infant grandchild years ago. 

We decided to meet up for coffee.  We had a wonderful time and the three of us discovered many things we had in common and ways we could encourage each other through difficulties we are facing.  Through it all, we share a strong faith in Christ.  I felt really encouraged by their testimonies. There is no way that was a coincidence.  No way.  This woman told me she didn't even know why she wanted that chain anymore.  She had signed up to be a stylist after attending a fundraiser for family who had a critically ill infant.  She did it to support the mother, who had become a stylist to help offset medical bills of hospitalization, g-tubes and many surgeries.  Yes, really.  Now she felt she had done her part to help and was selling off all of her samples.  She was leaving the business.  Why did she want to buy another piece of jewelry?  She didn't know.  And that whole meet up was set in motion years ago when I was a single city girl who bought a necklace at a home trunk show.

God is at work in my life right now.  These two events served to encourage me and help me see that God already knows how He will use things that are happening now.  And while I wait to see how all of that will play out, I have this drawing on my refrigerator reminding me that Jack did know he was loved and he still knows it today as he plays in heaven under the watchful eye of the same God who is watching over me.

Wince. Pause. Sigh.

Do you ever tell the truth when someone asks you how you are doing?  Today I was struggling so much to put one foot in front of the other, I actually told the truth to a few people.  I am having a terrible day.  I am so sad that I actually feel physically ill.  All I can think about is how much I miss my baby boy.  I am on the verge of tears.  That is the truth.

I woke up this morning feeling deeply sad.  I tried everything I could think of to feel better.  I took a shower.  I made a cup of coffee and sat down to read my daily Bible readings.  I cried out to God and told Him how much my heart was hurting.  I let him know that I needed Him to carry me though the day, step by step.  I let God know how I am really feeling these days.  I figure He knows anyways.  I let Him know that I don't understand His plan or why I have to go through this darkness.  I also let Him know how helpless I am on my own and that I need to be lead through my days.  Then I ask for His guidance and I turn to His Word.  

Today I was reading in Exodus 6 when God was talking to Moses and told him "Moreover, I have heard the groaning of the Israelites, whom the Egyptians are enslaving, and I remembered my covenant."  I swapped out the Israelites for me and the Egyptians for my grief and I was reminded that God can hear my moaning and He cares.  And eventually He will lead me out of this darkness but it will be in His perfect timing.  I feel a lot better knowing that He is still in control as much as he was when He parted the Red Sea for His people.  But knowing all of that did not take away the deep sadness, the heavy weight on my chest that makes it hard to breath, the invisible pressure forcing my face into a frown.

So, I tried something else.  I left the house and went to the bank and to get some coffee.  I thought getting out of the house before work would help change my perspective.  When I was getting coffee I ran into a handful of people I know.  That is the blessing and the curse of living in a very small town.  It is nice when you want to feel known but not so great when you want to be anonymous.  The tough thing for me these days is that people know me enough to know I had a baby but not always well enough to know that he went to heaven almost 2 months ago.  

Like yesterday, I went to drop off our rent and when I handed our check to the leasing agent I got the question.  "So, how is the baby?"  Wince.  Pause. Sigh.  And then I have to tell her that he died almost two months ago.  And her eyes mist up, she apologizes, I feel bad for making her sad and I end up comforting her.  It is the same every time.  Last week I needed to go to the bank but I did not want to go inside and have to make small talk and end up telling them "the news".  So I went through the drive through.  I was sure I would be safe there.  The lovely teller in the window smiles and asks if the baby is in the back seat, could I roll down the window so she could see him?  Wince. Pause. Sigh.  I tell her and she openly cries. And I comfort her.  Ugh.  It was only 8:30 AM.  I had a whole day ahead of me.

Today I ran into a friend whom I hadn't seen in a while, months actually.  She is a nurse at the same hospital where Jack lived the last month of his life.  She didn't see us while we were there but I was able to talk with her and tell her how much we miss our "friends" at the hospital.  We grew so close to the doctors, nurses and therapists that we spent those 31 days with.  They were with us through the most intense period of our lives and they loved our baby boy openly.  I miss them.  She encouraged me to go back and visit them.  There is no way.  Not at this point. I don't even like driving through the city and having to pass the hospital on the side of the tollway.  It hurts too much.  Maybe someday.  Maybe.  I told my friend how I was really doing today.  I talked about Jack's last week.  And I wept.

I went back home and threw myself into my work.  I did everything I could to focus and get through my tasks one at a time.  Grief makes it difficult to concentrate.  I have to be really disciplined to focus on each task and to see projects through.  All the while I am very aware of the weight on my heart and the stomach ache.  I was so sad today it actually made my stomach ache.  I didn't even know that was possible.

This afternoon, I went to my general practitioner for a make up visit.  I had missed my check up back in mid-September.  We were in the hospital.  It was my first time talking to her and she asked me how I was doing.  I told her. I told her how deeply sad I feel and how it affects me physically.  I told her why, what happened, and how my worst fear came to life.  I told the truth.

She sent me for a routine lab workup and when I got to the lab, I was recognized again.  The phlebotomist asked how I was doing today.  I told her that I had had a hard day.  She looked at me sympathetically and had me sit down in the chair for the blood draw.  As she was wrapping the blue bungee around my arm to produce a vein, she asked "How old is your baby now?  Little boy, right?"  Wince.  Sigh.  Pause.  Break the news.  She dropped the bungee, started to cry and held me.  I lost all control and started to weep.  She held me for a while and I was glad for the hug.

I honestly feel like this terrible rain cloud that brings sadness wherever I go.  I make people cry.  I end up comforting them.  Then I go home and cry.  It stinks.  That is probably why I would rather just stay home in my Christmas pajama pants and watch Touched by an Angel with my husband every night.  I love that show.  Every night, someone is going through a hard time, the angels are at work in their life right under their nose.  Then the angel reveals herself and tells the main character how much God loves them.  Their life is changed, everyone is happy and that is that.  

I haven't noticed Della Reese hanging around me yet but every day I am looking for her.  Until I see her, I suppose I just have to keep walking though this grief.  I have to keep feeling my feelings and being honest with people about how I am doing.  And I am going to keep telling God the truth and looking for His response in His Word.  But honestly?  This sinks.

Mommy's Little Turkey.

I had all kinds of good intentions of writing some kind of inspiring Thanksgiving Day blog post.  But the day came and went and I could not bring myself to do it.  I am grateful for a lot of things. But I also want to be real.  My heart hurts that Jack was not wearing these jammies last week.

I am a sucker for jammies with a character on the tush.  I may be biased but I think Jack had the cutest tushie I had ever seen.  I used to say he had "the cutest tush on Barbra Bush".  (Important context note:  Barbra Bush is what they called the children's floor of Maine Medical Center, because she is a major benefactress and fundraiser, FYI.)

Anyway, I love this kind of outfit and even better if they have an animal on the feet, too....these said "Mommy's Little Turkey" on the front.  My mom and I went out from the hospital one night in September to Macy's at the mall.  In the two weeks since he had been admitted, Jack had outgrown all the clothes we had for him and we needed to buy more.  This one snapped up, rather than zipping, because we needed to be able to thread a feeding tube, EKG sensors and his pulse/ox though the snaps.  That kind of consideration had become the norm.  Thanksgiving was a long way off but since Mimi was buying, I picked up this darling outfit in 9 months size.  I just hoped it would fit him when the end of November came along....

I had visions of Jack wearing these jammies in Wisconsin, surrounded by my family, being cuddled, doted on and photographed incessantly.  I thought a lot about these jammies last week.  They are packed away in one of the many giant Rubbermaids containing all of Jack's things, hidden at a friend's summer home.  I have not been able to pack away my dreams and expectations so easily.

I was blessed to be able to visit so many good friends in Chicago and Milwaukee last week.  Four of my dear girlfriends all had sons within months of Jack's birth. Last week I was able to hold each one of those sweet baby boys in my arms.  I think my friends may have been nervous about how hard it would be for me to see their babies.  The way I tried to explain it is this: I still love babies.  I still love my friends.  I want to be a part of their lives and families as much as I was before October 6th.  It hurts me far more to think of being left out of gatherings with kids present or that people would not call me and tell me about the biggest thing in their lives. their kids!  I am still Katie and I am still your friend.  If anything, I want to hold your baby more now, because my arms ache so much for Jack.   I love babies and I pray that God will bless us with more and soon.

So, last week, when Noah threw up on me, I loved it.  When Peter wanted Josh to hold him instead of me, I was happy, because Josh misses holding his son, too.  Nick reminded me the most of Jack and snuggling with him was bliss.  When Charlie got fussy and I was able to feed him rice cereal with a spoon, I did think about how I never got to do that with Jack...but it was so good to be around a happy and healthy baby boy.  I do get a feeling the day after spending lots of time with babies, I call it an emotional hangover.  I feel the loss more acutely and the silence at home seems louder.  But just as I used to willingly suffer the aftermath of a good frat party, I willingly go back for more cuddly baby time.

As I listen to Christmas music while I work and get ready to put up our tree this weekend, my mind is on Jack.  I spent many daydreams imagining our first Christmas as a family.  He would be almost 8 months old.  We would get him lots of adorable red and green outfits.  We would take the most precious Christmas card photo anyone had ever seen and send it out to everyone we knew.  I would tell him all about the first two seasons of Downton Abbey, so he would be ready for season three in January. We would take him to Boston on Christmas Eve to meet his Grammy's family and little second cousins.   It was going to be magical.

Those dreams may not be coming true this year but I can rest knowing that Jack is not the one missing out.  He gets to spend his first Christmas with the birthday boy himself, Jesus.  I am sure heaven is the best possible place to be for Christmas.  Can you imagine the birthday party GOD throws for His Son?  I have to imagine that it involves really cute pajamas for all the babies and children.  My prayer now is that God would send me a Christmas card from Jack.  Other people have told me they have dreamed about our baby but I have not....yet.  That dream is my true Christmas wish.



Keeping Jack Alive.

I was scrolling through Facebook late last week when I saw a someecard that brought me close to tears.

Before Jack was even born, the thing that scared me most about being a mother was this awesome responsibility to keep my new baby safe and alive.

What I have learned about myself over the years is when I am not trusting God to take care of everything, I feel like I need to do it all myself.  I decide to play God and try to fix, manage and control everything. So instead of trusting God to take care of me, Josh and baby, I allowed fear to consume me about how I would handle it all myself. 

I know this cartoon is meant to be funny and cheeky.  If I were losing sleep at night because of a teething baby or Jack had just started crawling and pulling every cord out of the sockets, I probably would have "liked" it too.  I know that no one who posted was even thinking about anyone who could be hurt by it.  I absolutely am not suggesting that people walk on eggshells around me either. 

But it hurts because I did not keep Jack alive.

In fact, after months of fighting for him and enlisting every doctor, therapist or specialist we could find. After 31 days in the hospital, three surgeries, 2 weeks of intubation, EEGs, MRI, seizures and severe septic shock...

On a bright blue morning like any other, we were told that his condition was "not compatible with life".  There was nothing more that could be done.  He would die today.

It was unreal.  This was not supposed to happen to us.  This happened to other people but not us.  We are "good" people, "good" parents.  We go to church.  We pray together.  Thousands of people had been praying for Jack's healing all month across the world.  God HAD to work a miracle on Jack, he just had to.  I was convinced that that would be the only way He could show His power and goodness to all who were praying for Jack.  But God had a different plan.

This was not fair.  We have things to do as a family.  We are going to take an adorable Christmas card photo.  We needed to teach him to ride a bike.  I need to dance with Jack at his wedding, I had been praying for his future wife, what would happen to her?  How could I have failed Jack and let this happen to him?  I am his mom, I am supposed to make everything OK.

We were led back to the ICU to Jack's room.  My darling baby who had been hooked up to so many machines and tubes the last time we saw him, was wrapped in a swaddle with only his ventilator tube still hooked up.  We were told we could spend as much time as we wanted with him and when we were ready they would come in to give him a shot of morphine and remove his breathing tube.  It could take minutes or hours for him to stop breathing.

Josh and I were joined by both of our parents as we cried, sang and prayed over Jack.  We could not believe what was happening.  We had not woken up this morning thinking this was even a possibility for today. 

I settled in a rocking chair and prepared to hold my sweet baby for the first time in a week.  When babies are on ventilators, it is not safe to hold them because the tube can slip out easily.  Weeks earlier in our stay I had asked about that and was told they only allowed parents to hold their babies if they were not going to live.  So I never again asked to hold him while ventilated.  But here we were, holding Jack, singing "Jesus Loves Me" to him, telling him how very much we loved him.  I wept and told him how hard we had fought to keep him with us and how very much we would miss him.

And then it was time to remove his breathing tube and let him go home to Jesus.  My sweet baby boy only took a few breaths on his own before he left us.  My worst nightmare from the past 5 months had come true.  Jack died because he could not breathe.  And he died in my arms.  I could not do anything to save him.  I could not keep Jack alive. 

I held him for a long time after he left.  I just could not let him go.

I think the reason I am writing this blog and opening up about these deeply personal things, is to keep Jack alive in a different way.  To keep his memory alive.  To encourage others who have lost a child or even those who feel lost themselves. 

I may not have been able to keep Jack alive here on Earth but there is one who paid the ultimate price so we can all live forever in heaven.  Jesus Christ.  I am drawing as close to the Lord as possible these days. I know Jack is alive in heaven even now. 

If Jack's life can encourage even one person to draw closer to Christ and put their trust in Him, I will be eternally thankful.  I will do whatever I can to keep Jack's legacy alive and point people to the merciful God who took Jack home to heaven before he had to experience any more pain and suffering in this life.  God is working everything for good, even Jack's short life and our painful loss.

^"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28)

I'm Still Researching Daycare.

Before Jack was born, my biggest stress was what we would do with Jack after I went back to work.  I was so worried.  I desperately wanted to be a stay at home mom but we could not swing it yet.  We planned to have me work for another year and then stay home full time and work on my Stella & Dot business part-time.

After pretending for a number of months that it wasn't happening, I threw myself into researching all kinds of option for child care.  I talked to anyone I could think of who worked and had kids.  I googled and found there are many, many options.  Would we want home care or a larger corporate environment?  Should we interview nannies and have one come to our house?  What about sharing a nanny with another family, like my friends in Chicago do? How would we know who we could trust?  All I could think of was every 20/20 episode I had seen involving nanny cams....you can imagine what I was thinking.

Eventually, God answered the whole issue for us.  Josh's mom was unexpectedly let go from her job just in time to take care of Jack.  It was perfect.  Everyone was a winner.  I could rest easily knowing he was safe and only 100 yards away.  Grammy got to spend all day with her favorite (and first) grandchild.  And Jack got to be snuggled, cuddled, sang to, and generally loved on by his grandparents.  I even got to take my lunch breaks and walk down the street to see him.  At the time, all I wanted was to be the one spending all time with Jack.  I actually was jealous of my dear mother-in-law.  Looking back, it was the best possible situation.  We were all blessed for the month that I worked, before we went into the hospital.

So, here we are.  I am back at work in the same home office that doubled as a nursery for a short time.  I am back to working though lunch. But that being said, I have not stopped researching Jack's day care.  Now I spend my free time trying to find out everything I can about heaven.  I want to know every perfect detail of the place where my son waits for me to finish my work here on earth. 

I just finished a wonderful book last night "One Minute After You Die" by Erwin Lutzer.  Pastor Lutzer takes all of the different Scriptures and brings them together to give us a clear picture of what God says about death and eternity.  It was wonderfully comforting to me.   I believe the Bible is God's inspired word, that Jesus Christ is His son & He died to save my soul.  I take God at His word, so it was amazing to read through exactly what happened when Jack went to heaven.  He was escorted by an angel and brought directly to Jesus to be welcomed.  I can only imagine how wonderful that must have been.  I know he is not sad to be separated from us because he now understands much more about God's great plan than we do.  He knows how much I love Jesus and that because of that love, I will join Jack there soon enough.

One specific passage in the book really helped explain what has happened within me.  (I did not get permission to use this.)

"The death of an infant, however, causes all of us to struggle with the will and purpose of God. It seems strange that God would grant the gift of life and then cause it to be snuffed out before it could blossom into a stage of usefulness.  But we can be sure that there is a purpose in such a life, even if it is not immediately discernible.

James Vernon McGee again says that when a shepherd seeks to lead his sheep to better grass up the winding, thorny mountain paths, he often finds that the sheep will not follow him.  They fear the unknown ridges and the sharp rocks.  The shepard will then reach into the flock and take a little lamb on one arm and another on his other arm.  Then he starts up the precipitous pathway.  Soon the two mother sheep begin to follow and afterwards the entire flock.  Thus they ascend the tortuous path to greener pastures.

So it is with the Good Shepherd.  Sometimes He reaches into the flock and takes a lamb to Himself.  He uses the experienced to lead His people, to lift them to new heights of commitment as they follow the little lamb all the way home."

That passage hit me deep inside.  God sent Jack to us for a short time and took him back home to Heaven so that WE would follow him along the "tortuous path to greener pastures".  I want that to be true for me and my loved ones...heck everybody reading this!  That would be the best possible reason for Jack to have been here with us for such a short time.  He was sent so that more of us will join him for eternity with Jesus Christ!

 When I think of everything in that context, with my sight on eternity, the constant weight of my sadness is lifted.  I feel lighter and brighter.  I am excited about God.  I feel although God truly has "lifted me to new heights of commitment."

Heaven has never seemed more real to me.  It HAS to be real.  That is where my son is.  It is a very real place and I will be there someday.  Not because of any actions I have done or haven't done but because Christ died for the sins I have committed and those I have yet to commit.  What a beautiful gift.  Praise God!  I do not have to fear death anymore, because I know I will go home to be with Jesus and Jack in heaven for eternity.  Amazing.

I did not feel this strong conviction before Jack went to heaven.  In fact, I struggled with postpartum. depression after Jack was born.  I remember telling my friends that I felt as if God had abandoned me.  He seemed so far away.  I felt like He didn't care about me anymore.  I stopped reading my Bible or praying very much.  I found myself too busy to get to Bible Study, check in with friends or make it to church.  I was very much isolated and empty.

I have also spent lots of time fearing the end of the world.  I was overly interested in the 2012 theory for a couple of years.  I even went to see the 2012 movie on opening night, thinking it might share some crucial understanding of how to prepare.  It did not.  I was afraid.  I did not really trust God to look out for my best interests.  I was unworthy of that.  I was terrified of the unknown. 

For me, it took the unthinkable tragedy of losing my first born son to truly realize that I am not the one in control of life; mine or anyone else's.  When I give up control, I do not have to stress so much about things not going according to MY plan.  Nothing about the last 7 months has gone according to MY plan.  Not pre-eclampsia, not placenta previa, not bed rest, not a c-section, not a premature delivery, not a month in the hospital with my baby and certainly not burying him a day after he turned 5 months.  But it took all of that to bring me to a place of peace and trust in the Lord.  To a place where I truly do not fear anything today.  I have conceded that God is Sovereign and nothing happens in this world that is not under His control.  There is amazing peace that belief.

I have not completely given up on giving God advice, however.  Yesterday, I went for a jog, and I use that term loosely these days.  I went out to St. Ann's by the Sea where we had Jack's funeral.  It was my first time there since that day.  I sat on the rocks, looked out at the ocean and talked to God.  I told him all about what Jack likes: cuddling, Eskimo kisses, saying "ah-gooooo", singing Snuggle Puppy or Jesus Loves Me.  I really wanted to make sure He understood that Jack comes from two major huggers and that it was very likely that Jack would need lots of hugs, too.  I wanted to make sure Jack was getting enough hugs in heaven. 

Then I wept.  I wept and told God all of the things I wish I could do with Jack: teach him to sit up, how to eat bananas and avocados, teach him to ride a bike, blow bubbles, tie his shoes, teach him to pray before bed and kick a soccer ball.  I cried because those are things we did not get to do together.  I let God know just how deeply sad I was for that loss.  And then, I felt a little bit lighter.  I got up, and went back to work for the afternoon.  So, in a way, I suppose I called Jack's day care to make sure they knew just what he liked and that he is being well cared for until I can pick him up again.  And that makes me feel just like a mom.

My grief just caught me.

I had been having my best day in a week.  I got some great sleep last night.  I had my morning quiet time with lots of coffee all snuggled up on my couch.  I had plenty of time for breakfast.  I had a whole bunch of things to put on my daily gratitude list.  I felt great.  I felt content, happy, close to God.  It was a great day.

And then at 3:30pm out of nowhere, it hit me.  Jack is gone.  I should be sad.  And now I am sad again.  Sigh.

On Monday, Josh and I went to a grief group for bereaved parents.  I have been looking for the right kind of group for us.  The Catholic church has one, but it is at 10am every other Tuesday...so that one is out.  There is a highly recommended Christian program, Grief Share, but all of the local churches are 2 months into the 3 month program.  Hmmmm.... There is a group up at the hospital where Jack spent the last month of his life, but there is no way we can go back there at this point.  I don't even like to be in the city of Portland,  let alone that hospital.

I know how important it is for us to find our way through our grief together.  Many people have told us that the divorce rate for parents who lose a child is between 80-90%.  Not that we consider that an option for us.  I told Josh when we got married that I have a strict no returns policy, you break it - you buy it, ha ha.  We want to work though this together and address our loss head on.  Then one day an acquaintance walked up to me and told me that her neighbor has been going to a group for bereaved parents for more than 10 years.  She offered the woman's number and I took it.  The group meets 15 minutes from our house and the next meeting was less than a week away.  I promised Josh that if it was terrible, we never had to go back.  We agreed to go.

Monday night came and I was the one who really did not want to go anymore.  I don't especially like leaving the house these days.  After work it's dark. It's cold.  I'd rather stay home in my yoga pants and a fleece watching Fox News.  That's just where I am right now.  But we went anyway.  It felt unnatural walking up to the door of a complete stranger to talk about our shared tragedies.  Josh had to nudge me forward.  We walked in and the host welcomed us with a big hug.  I am a hugger, always have been, but I was not up for hugging strangers at that particular moment.  We were led into a room with 15 other parents who had lost children.  I can't tell you exactly what happened.  We were told that what happens at group, stays there.  But I can tell you we were welcomed by these other couples who shared their hearts and their losses with us.  Some had lost 45 year old children and some of us had lost infants.  Our stories were all different but our feelings were the same.  We talked about how the people who care about us often don't know what to say.  Sometimes they say things that end up being hurtful even though they only mean to encourage us.  (Please don't tell me that we are young and we will have more children.  And please do not ask me when we are going to start trying again.  We are grieving Jack and he will always be missed no matter how big of a family God blesses us with.  He has only been gone one month. We DO want to have more children but please give us some time.)

Josh and I talked a lot and others affirmed that our feelings were normal and shared their experiences.  It was sad to know how many people have gone through this terrible pain.  It also felt nice to know that we are not alone in our feelings and thoughts. I was sure we would get in the car and Josh would say he didn't want to go back.  But he surprised me and said he actually liked it.  So there you go.  We now have a date every first Monday of the month, with a group of people who want to help us walk down the road they have been walking for many years.  It is not a road any of us would have chosen for ourselves.  I do believe though that God is sovereign and He will walk with us each step of the way if we invite Him.  And that is why I invite Jesus into my day each morning over coffee.  Now the sun is setting and the sadness is hanging over me and I find myself looking forward to tomorrow morning already.

Mornings.

Mornings are usually easier than the afternoons or evenings for me lately.  Something about the fresh start and a chance to start over again makes the mornings so attractive.  I find myself looking forward to the morning as the sun starts to set on the day.  Now that the sun is setting earlier, I want to crawl in bed earlier too.  I want to sleep and forget. 

The nights are difficult because I had spent months of Jack's life just wishing for a full night of sleep.  I used to bargain with God for Jack to sleep through the night.  Josh and I would make deals about who would get up each night.  I would find myself day dreaming about just how much money I would pay to sleep through the night.

And now,  I would give anything to be awoken in the night by a hungry baby.  I would love to wake up at 3am and snuggle in to feed him, feeling like the only two people in the world.  I would be thrilled to be sleep training, trying to let him "cry it out".  I wish with everything I have, that he was teething .  I would trade just about anything for that.  I am not saying that those times are easy for my mommy friends.  Far from it.  But I would take it in a heart beat to have my baby back.

But back to this morning...I love the mornings.  I wake up and pour a cup of coffee and then I sit on the couch with my Bible and start my day with God.  Someone once told me her days are better when she "exchanges whispers with the Lord before shouts with the world."  I used to do this before Jack was born, and I would read aloud a psalm, proverb and chapter of the Gospel for baby and doggie to hear. I am taking that challenge again since Jack left us.  I am finding comfort in my mornings once again. 

I want to know more about God and His character, who He is and what He says.  After all, we Google potential babysitters, I figure it should know as much as possible about Jack's Heavenly Father!

Today Josh and I headed out to the gym before work.  Afterward, I was driving back home, listening to KLOVE on the radio, and thinking that I felt happy.  I felt happy and hopeful and thankful. 

And then I drove past the cemetery where Jack's grave is.

I try to remind myself that Jack is not there.  Jack is in heaven.  What is buried there is only his earthly shell.  But then my mind takes off thinking about him being there, in the cold ground.  Alone.  And his mother just drives right on by a few times a day.

I tried going there once so far.  It was too awful.  I left in under a minute.

We buried him with his best friend (Oliver the Octopus), his favorite book (Snuggle Puppy) and his soft white blankie.  Even though I know it is not him, I still wanted him to be surrounded by familiar things.

And that is the wrestling match that goes on in my heart.  I believe Jack is whole and healthy and happy beyond my understanding in heaven.  I really truly do.  But when I think of his body left behind, I feel terrible.  Sick.  So very sad.  I feel like I did not do enough to protect him.  I feel like I should be doing something even now to help him.  People tell me those things are not true...they come over me anyways in unexpected waves.

So I drove the rest of the way home, sick to my stomach.  I was so sad and could not believe the sadness had come on me so early today.  How would I get through a whole day if i was this sad now at 8am?

When I was opening the shades in my living room, a book on my shelf caught my eye.  I am not sure why.  It has been sitting there on the shelf, unopened for 18 months.  It was given to me two years ago when I attended my first church service at Moody Church in Chicago.  The book is called, "One Minute After You Die" by Erwin Lutzer.  It walks the reader though what the Bible tells us about death and eternity.

What a perfectly timed blessing. 

Two years ago, I thought this was a terribly morbid book to hand out to church visitors.  Today, it is exactly what I am searching for.  I want to know everything possible about where Jack is, what he is experiencing and what God has prepared for me, as well.  And here is a book that will tell me just that.  Just when I need it.  God truly is walking with me even today.

I cannot wait to dive into this book today during my lunch break.

I have heard that there are no such things as coincidences, they are just God's way of remaining anonymous....I believe that.

He is soooooo happy in heaven!

Tonight I cried at a Longhorn Steakhouse.

I let myself really feel my sadness today.  This is not easy for me.  I like to be happy.  I like to pretend everything is better than it is.  I like to look like I have it all together.

I was supposed to go to a dear friend's baby shower this morning.  I really wanted to go.  I wanted to be able to be happy enough for her to overcome my sadness.  I wanted to go to a party and celebrate.  I wanted to take Jack with me and smile and laugh.  But I could not.  I felt the tears in my throat early on today and I just knew if I went to an event celebrating all of the excitement and anticipation of a new baby...I knew I would cry.  The last thing I wanted to do was be a dark cloud over the party or take the attention away from my friend.  So I stayed home.

I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my head and I played Words With Friends until I fell asleep.  While I was hiding in bed, Josh and his dad cleaned out the nursery and moved everything into storage.  I was not sure if it would be worse to look at the empty crib all day or for the house to look like he had never been here at all.  I decided it was better for it to go....while I was not watching.

Eventually Josh coaxed me out of bed.  We are learning that we grieve differently.  I want to barricade myself in the house and Josh wants to get out and go.  So we went to dinner at Longhorn Steakhouse and when I excused myself to the ladies' room it happened.  I overheard a little girl saying "I love you, Mommy.  I just love you so much."

And it hit me.  I never got to hear Jack say that to me.  And on this Earth, Jack will never tell me he loves me.

I didn't cry right away.  I tried to be OK.  I went back to the table and it was 10 minutes before the tears started flowing.  I am just so sad.  It is a physical sadness; a heaviness, it is hard to breathe, my heart actually aches and my arms feel empty.  I miss my baby.  I just want Jack back.  I want my baby back.

And I am going to let myself feel sad.  Because if I don't really feel this now,  I have been told that it will find me down the road.  It could affect relationships or even harden my heart.  So I am grieving today, even at the Longhorn Steakhouse.

But there is hope in the sadness, too.  Just yesterday my sister-in-law sent me a text that made me smile in my heart.  A three year old girl that she nannies for found Jack's prayer card with his picture on it and she asked who it was.  Katie told her that it was baby Jack and he lives in heaven.  The little girl got very excited and told Katie that he is soooo happy!  She went on and on talking about how he is going to be happy forever.  Later in the day she was rocking a baby doll singing "Jesus Loves Me".  She was talking like she knew Jack and she had a conversation with him.  She really wanted to take Jack's picture home because she "loves him so much" and he is sooooooo happy.

I wish I had been there to hear that little girl talking about how happy Jack is but just hearing the story is enough to remind me that Jack is in heaven and I will see him again some day.  And I will keep reminding myself of that when I hear little kids loving their mommies.  I will get my Jack loves in heaven and it will be perfect.

For the Bible Tells Me So.

Jesus loves Jack,

This I know.

For the Bible

Tells me so.

Little ones to him belong.

They are weak and HE is strong!

Yes, Jesus loves Jack,

Yes, Jesus loves Jack.

Yes, Jesus loves Jack.

The Bible tells us so!

Jack was here on Earth for 4 months and 26 days.  I probably sang this song to him at least 5 times per day and sometimes it was many more.  I sang this song when he was fussy, sleepy, happy and even when he was laying still in the hospital on the verge of his Eternal Life.  I sang it joyfully and I sang it with tears in my eyes and a squeak of a voice.  We sang it all together at his funeral, when we tucked him in one last time.  As much as I tried to make "Take me out to the Ball Game" his lullaby, it would not take.  This was his lullaby.

People have asked me how I can possibly still believe in God (and His goodness), in light of the tragedy of Jack's death.  What kind of god would take a beautiful baby away from his loving parents?  What kind of a god would let something like this happen to "good people" like us? I have spent some time reflecting on that question lately.  And they way I see it, I have a decision to make each day when I wake up. 

God is either everything or He is nothing.

Now, if I decide that God is nothing, that He cannot exist if terrible things happen in our world, like the death of an innocent baby....then I am without hope.  That would mean that I am just wandering though a meaningless universe with no purpose, no future, no hope of ever seeing Jack again.  It would mean there is no greater plan for my life and these devastating events were total chaos.  It would mean that I am a victim.  And as a victim, I could sit and stew in the despair of it all.  It would mean I would have to depend on my own understanding to make sense of this all (scary). It would also mean that Jack's life, and even his death, was a complete waste.  These are all things I just could not bear.

So each day I chose to believe that God is EVERYTHING.  I believe he is Good all the time.  I believe He is faithful. I believe he loves me as a daughter.  I believe his Word, The Bible, is TRUTH.  I believe that He works ALL things for Good.  I believe He know the plans he has for me, plans to prosper me and not to harm me.  I believe he is Sovereign and always in control.  I believe that because He is in control, I do not have to be.  Nor do I have to understand why things happen.  I can also believe that God was merciful in taking Jack out of the pain and suffering he had in this world.  I believe that good things will come from Jack's life and his death.  I believe people will come to know God and love Him because of Jack.  I believe Jack was here so that more of us can join him in Heaven.

And most importantly, I believe that because of God's great love for me, and because Jesus Christ died for my sins, I will hold Jack in my arms again one day in HEAVEN!  Jack is there even now in the arms of my Savior.  Jack is safe, happy and at peace.  He is loved with a perfect love.  And when I see him again, it will be for ETERNITY!  I cannot even wrap my head around how long that is...but I know it will be wonderful.

So, this is my foundation.  This is how I will walk though this life without Jack. 

Please do not mistake this for a lack of grief.  I can tell you that I am only now beginning to feel the numbness of shock melt away from my heart.  It has been almost a month since Jack went Home to be with Jesus.  And now my heart is beginning to break wide open.  Sometimes my heart aches so much I feel like I cannot breathe. The afternoons and evenings are more painful than the mornings...I do not know why.  And I will open myself up to this grieving process and feel the pain.  And in doing so, I will remember that God is everything.  Jack is well and I will hold him again one day in Heaven.