Friday, December 14, 2012

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.


3 comments:

  1. "The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."
    Psalm 34:18 You are loved.

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  2. Dearest Kate,

    Thank your for writing your truth. You are a strong woman of grace and dignity. Your words have helped heal the wounds of so many of us who have lost a beloved child. Our babies are with God and they are waiting for us to hold them again one day.

    Peace be with You and Josh

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  3. This post was amazing Katie! Thank you so very much!! I too, cannot wait until the day we are reunited and able to hold our angels again! Until then I will continue to give thanks to the Lord for allowing me to be Marco's Mommy! We are so very blessed to have been given amazing little babies that changed our lives forever! God Bless!!!!! Marco's Mommy!!

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