5 Months: In the arms of Jesus longer than the arms of his parents.

Five months ago today my first born sweet baby boy, Jack, went to heaven.  He was only 4 months 26 days old.  Jack has now been in the arms of Jesus longer than he was in ours.  That seems unbelievable.  It is such a painful milestone.  I am surrounded by framed photos of his sweet face, yet it feels like he is slipping away.

The picture above is my absolute treasure.  We had gone to the grand opening of the Kennebunkport Republican Campaign Headquarters and Jack was the star of the party with his big smile and special onesie.  This picture was taken by a woman I did not know. I also did not know I was in the frame.  I thought she wanted a picture of the youngest Republican in town.  I am so thankful that she got us both and then decided to post it to Facebook.  What a gift.

This picture assures me that Jack knew who I was.  He knew I was his mama and he loved me.  He smiled at me and knew me and loved me.  I need this picture to tell me that is true.  Jack lived his last month in the hospital and two of those weeks he was on a respirator.  When babies are on respirators they cannot be held and they need to be sedated so that they don't wiggle out of their breathing tubes.  I didn't get to hold Jack like this in the last week of his life.  My lasting memories of him are his poor broken little body laying in an ICU bed while we held his little hand and sang to him, desperately hoping to wake him up.  We never gave up on that hope, that prayer.  We never even considered it an option for him do die.  He was never supposed to die.

I didn't get smiles like this during our last week with Jack.  He was not this sweet smiling baby.  I did not get to hold him in my arms and feel his loving gaze warm me from my heart. That hurts more than I can put into words.

I actually printed out photos of Jack smiling and laughing and taped them to the cold sterile window of his ICU room, so that his doctors and nurses would know the real Jack.  I wanted them to know he was a happy baby full of life and love, not just the patient in room 24.  I thought they might care more and try harder if they knew who they were working on.  I made sure every single person who walked into his room saw that wall of smiles.

I was feeling pretty well this morning.  I thought I would be able to be OK today.  That I could remember the good times and stop there.  Then, at lunch, I went to a farmers' market at the local elementary school.  Big mistake.  Each one of those happy, bouncing, giggling and chatting little children brought to mind what Jack will never be.  He will never be a wiggly second grader who loves recess and birthday parties.  And I will not volunteer in his classroom or chaperon field trips to the museum.  My heart broke all over again.  I got back to the car and my dog had left me a special "gift".  I cried all the way home.

I don't want to live my life like a victim but I sure feel like one today.  I just want my sweet baby back in my arms.

When Jack first passed away we were inundated with advice about grief.  It started with a folder of pamphlets the nurses in the ICU handed us as we wandered out of the hospital in a daze, one last time, without Jack.

Friends, family and even strangers began to mail us or drop off grief books. We now have a shelf in our living room with 15-20 books.  I have cracked a couple and skimmed a chapter or two.  My ability to see a task to completion is really lacking at the moment.

Some of the books are faith based, some are not.  Some are picture books and some contain an overwhelming amount of print.  One thing they all have in common is some kind of advice about what we should do as we grieve:

1. Eat well
2. Get enough sleep
3. Exercise
4. Pray
5. Talk to someone
6. Do something for someone else\
7. Cut yourself some slack

1. I have taken an interest in clean local eating - hence the farmers' market.
2. We go to bed at about 8 pm every night since we cancelled cable - that's another story.
3. We have been working out together with a trainer a few mornings per week.
4. I spend time reading God's Word most mornings and I talk to him throughout the day.  I ask HIM for help.
5. I have enlisted a crack team of professional and armature listeners.
6. I am wrapping this into #1 at the moment by cooking for my husband most days.  Its a win-win.
7. Hmmmmm....this one does not come easy to me at all.  I am my own harshest critic.  I say things to myself that I would NEVER say to another person.

Yesterday I was working with my new chiropractor and talking about how I have been exercising and eating much better for three months and I am not seeing much movement on the scale at all.  She shined a particularly bright light on something I had not even considered.  My grief, my stress, my deep sadness, and even my unjust feelings of guilt, are putting my body in a crisis mode.  And in crisis mode, the body holds on to all possible resources - read fat.  She pretty much blew my mind when she suggested that I was blaming myself for allowing Jack to die, and in response to that blame, I am punishing my body.  Wow.

I have been thinking about that and I am pretty sure she is right.  I am such a harsh judge of myself that I actually think I should have been able to save Jack. I blame myself.  And how can I punish myself?  Well I hate to be overweight....great, that's what I will do.  This might seem kind of out there.  But it makes perfect sense to me.  As a mom, the buck should have stopped with me and it didn't.

Now I realize that this kind of thinking is me trying to play god again.  And I am so thankful to know that because there is an cure to that line of thinking.  I need to go back to God again and recognize that HE is all powerful, not me.  HE will bring good from this pain and suffering.  I cannot imagine what good could be worth this price.  But maybe that's another good reason to let The Lord be The Lord. 

"Restore our fortunes, LORD, as streams renew the desert.

Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy.

They weep as they go to plant their seed, but they sing as they return with the harvest."

Psalm 126:4-6