tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91000924601211368552024-02-19T10:51:47.171-05:00Jesus Loves Jack, This I know...Our sweet baby Jack went to heaven on October 6th, 2012. He was 4 months 26 days old. This blog is the story of our journey through life after Jack. I share very honestly in hopes of encouraging any other mothers and fathers who have children in heaven waiting for them. Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-55939690996430507742013-09-04T16:25:00.000-04:002013-09-04T16:35:58.506-04:00Learning to Pray Like Job.Almost every person that I have shared our good news with has cried tears of joy when they hear we are expecting again. I think they are relieved. <i>"Whew, now Katie and Josh will be OK. They can be happy again." </i><br />
<br />
I have been reluctant to tell people just for that reason. I am worried that people will expect us to be OK, all better now that we have a new baby on the way. That I won't be able to have sad days or weeks. I will need to be happy from now on out.<br />
<br />
The truth is that I am thrilled to have the hope and excitement of a new life growing within me! However, that has not made my grief disappear. I am not instantly cured of my sadness. I have not moved on from Jack. There are lots of feelings and worries that have been surfacing even more now.<br />
<br />
Before we lost Jack, we always knew we wanted to have 3 or 4 kids (more like 4) and that they would have to come pretty close together since we were already 30 when we got married. Our plan was to wait until Jack was about 9 months old and then give him a sibling.<br />
<br />
When Jack passed away we wanted another baby as soon as possible. We knew that a new baby would never take the place of Jack but my arms were so empty they ached. God knew the perfect timing to send our second baby. I was so bereft in my grief that I worried I wouldn't be able to ever be happy again. I was as low as I could imagine. I truly thought that I might be the one woman who would never recover from my grief. I could not see my purpose on this planet now that my son was gone. Months and months had passed during the dark cold winter and spring, without the news we longed to hear. I worried that Jack had been my only chance at motherhood and God would not trust me with another of His sweet children. I knew it was not true but as the days came and went I wondered...<br />
<br />
And then, one morning, one word changed it all: Pregnant. Pregnant! It is as if a switch flipped and I was instantly anchored to this world again. I have a purpose here; a baby to nourish, love and protect. I am needed here and now. It matters how I care for myself because it affects this baby. I started wearing my seat belt again. My will to live returned.<br />
<br />
I would say that pure hope and joy lasted a couple of weeks. They were wonderful weeks. I was on a cloud being lifted out of the dark fog of hopelessness. I could see a future for our family again.<br />
<br />
Then the fear crept in, as if to steal that joyful cloud out from beneath me. I also struggled with morning (noon and night) sickness so severe that it isolated me for much of the summer. Isolation is not good for someone who is grieving. Isolation acted to amplify the fears and doubts creeping back into my heart.<br />
<br />
I began to feel a guilty. I felt guilty for being happy again. Guilty for picturing our new little family of three. Guilty for holding this new baby close inside of me, feeding it, protecting it, growing closer to it; all while Jack is not here. His sweet broken body is in the grave. I cannot protect him anymore.<br />
<br />
Nightmares began to haunt me. Pregnancy nightmares seem to be more vivid to me. Perhaps it is because I wake up so often in the night that I am never in deep sleep. I lay my head down and all of a sudden, in my dreams, the baby comes too early and then leaves us far too soon. We are alone again.<br />
<br />
Even though there was nothing wrong with Jack when he was born and there is no reason to think this baby will go though anything that Jack did, I worry. I am terrified it will happen again; that we will lose this baby, too.<br />
<br />
When I sit back and take these worries to God, I can clearly hear His reminder that I am putting myself in control again. Of course I am overwhelmed by the thought of being responsible for this new life. I was not made to give and take life. I am a mother, not a god. I care for the precious children that God sends to me, for the time they are here. I find myself getting away from those truths often when I spend too much time alone.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, writing is how I work these things out. I can see so clearly what I need to be doing: calling friends, answering the phone when they call, getting in a walk when I can and spending time reading Scriptures. Today I finally made it to the end of the book of Job. This man loved God more than anything and even through the unimaginable trials of losing his 10 children, his farm, his livestock, his friends and his health, he STILL trusted God. In the end, God returned to Job what he had lost and twice as much as he had before. <br />
<br />
What's the catch? God did this AFTER Job had prayed for his friends. The same friends who had hurt Job in the way they tried to blame him for his own troubles. Job forgave them and prayed for them.<br />
<br />
<i>"After Job had prayed for his friends, the LORD made him prosperous again and gave him twice as much as he had before....The LORD blessed the latter part of Job's life more than the first."</i><br />
<i>Job 42:10,12</i><br />
<br />
Unlike Job, I don't have any friends who tried to blame Jack's death on me, far from it. There are some people, however, who I could stand to forgive. I have begun to pray for them because I figure that if I can take a positive action when I think of them, I will lessen my anger and hurt. I have decided I need to really get specific and pray regularly for these people to have peace in their hearts, wisdom and discernment in their professional lives and most importantly, that they come to know the unbelievably healing love of Jesus Christ. I pray that Jack's life and death move their hearts towards their Savior. I pray they truly know His love and the sweet peace that comes with it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-16253969551946171042013-08-13T13:56:00.000-04:002013-08-13T13:59:44.434-04:00A Big Brother in Heaven<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dear Jack,<br />
<br />
Your daddy and I have some very exciting news to share with you, although you probably know already. You are going to be a big brother!<br />
<br />
We are thrilled that God has answered our prayers and sent along another baby to fill our arms and our home.<br />
<br />
As soon as we found out, a sort of peace came over me and I could see you beaming down from heaven with your big gummy smile and bright baby blue eyes<span style="text-align: center;">. I had known that you were happy in heaven. This was the first time I could actually FEEL in my heart just how happy you are. I imagine you telling all of your angel baby friends how proud you are to be a big brother. Just knowing your daddy and me, I am sure you have all kinds of friends up there.</span><br />
<br />
I know that you don't want us to be sad that you won't be here to welcome your baby brother or sister on their birthday. I have to tell you that I do get sad though, Jack. I get sad that this baby will not get to know you and watch you as an example of how to walk, hug, swim or read. I get sad that we could not put you in a shirt that says "I'm the BIG Brother" to announce our news to all of our friends and family. I get sad thinking that you will never share a bunk bed with this little one or wait for the school bus together. I get sad thinking about the trips we will take together as a family without you. <br />
<br />
We will always miss you, Jackie boy. No matter how much we love this baby (and it is going to be A LOT of love), we will never ever forget you. We will never love you any less. We will never stop wishing you were with us here and now. <br />
<br />
Before I spiral into despair, I turn my thoughts upward. I read a book (OK, I listened to part of it on <a href="http://audible.com/">Audible.com</a>) called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Heaven-Randy-Alcorn/dp/0842379428/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376334967&sr=8-1&keywords=randy+alcorn+heaven" target="_blank">Heaven by Randy Alcorn</a> and he found Scriptural evidence that souls in heaven DO know what is going on down here on Earth. (Revelation 6:9-10) Knowing you are able to check in on us just sets my heart at ease. I love that God doesn't make us guess about Heaven, it's out there for anyone to read about. What a gift for anyone of us who feel like we've been left behind.<br />
<br />
I know that you are overjoyed to be a big brother even if you won't be physically here with us. You will always be a part of our family. We will always have your smiling pictures up on the walls with the rest of the family. Your siblings will know they have a big brother who lives in Heaven and is waiting to meet them some day. How fun will that be? I find myself looking forward to Heaven all the time now. <br />
<br />
But I will stay right where God has me for now. We are doing everything we can to get ourselves ready for your sibling: mentally, physically and spiritually. We promise to teach your siblings about where you are and in whose arms - the arms of our Lord Jesus. Your dad and I will raise your brothers and sisters to love God, family and their neighbors, with all their hearts. Then some beautiful day, we will all be together again. We will get to spend ETERNITY getting to know you and playing together.<br />
<br />
Until then, baby boy, give my love to all of our friends and family up there and please thank Jesus for sending us another baby to love here on Earth. Please ask God to help us to navigate this new joy in the midst of our continuing grief. We are trying to make sense of everything we feel but it is complicated and so new to us.<br />
<br />
I love you and miss you more thank you can ever know-<br />
<br />
Mommy<br />
<br />
<br />Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-15967667091965170332013-08-09T12:11:00.004-04:002013-08-09T12:14:03.714-04:00Facebook is Different for a Grieving Mother.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Facebook has been a real challenge for me since we
lost Jack. You can probably imagine that it has been painful to watch
other babies and children hit milestones that Jack never achieved here with us:
sitting up, crawling, walking, turning one. I know that list will grow
over the years, as we watch our friends' children grow up right before our
eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Facebook has not only showed us the healthy
children we know, though. I have had so many sick babies come across my
newsfeed. These babies are all across the country. They are
struggling with cancer, heart defects and rare genetic disorders. Their
families have started Facebook pages to generate awareness for their baby's
cause and to ask for prayer from anyone who will offer it. These children
have thousands of people following their every development and praying for them
every step of the way. Why didn't I think to do this? We could have
had thousands of strangers praying for Jack, for a miracle. Would it have
made a difference?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">As I prepared to go to a writers’ conference a few weeks ago, I felt God pulling on my heart to share Jack's story and our own. I
want his life to be meaningful and for the world to be a better place because Jack
was here. The attendees of this conference are all on a private Facebook
page sharing information and encouragement as we prepared for the conference. Some
women shared prayer requests, as we are a group of faith-filled women. One morning, as I was scrolling though the new posts, I came across a request for
prayer for a sweet baby boy. He was in an accident and had suffered brain
trauma. His parents were praying for him to show signs of improvement in
brain activity that morning, as the doctors prepared to test him. There
is a picture of this precious baby in his ICU bed, on a ventilator, with his
parents by his side, terrified but determined to be brave. His puffy face
looks to be asleep while tubes and drips and lines swirl around his still
little body. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">When I look at this photo I see Jack during the
last few days of his life. I see Josh and I standing by his bedside
begging God to let Jack wake up and show us he is still in there. I see
myself, convinced that each day he is coming back to us a little big more. That ICU room was our home. That baby was our son. I cannot tear myself away from these stories, even though they hurt my heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">So I pray. I cry and beg God for a miracle,
for this sweet baby to wake up and come back to his mommy. And then I
pray for his mom, to be able to soak up every single minute she has with her
son on this earth. I prayed that the Holy Spirit hold her up as she goes
though these days. I pray that there will be angels among her nursing staff, as there were among ours. I pray for her marriage and that she and her husband
stay dedicated to each other no matter what comes. I pray that they
remember that nothing will be easier or better if they split apart and grieve
the loss of their marriage on top of everything else.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">And then I stop. Will my prayers make a
difference for this boy? What about the scripture I have been clinging to
these past 10 months?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“</span></b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Your eyes saw my
unformed body;</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">all
the days ordained for me were written in your book</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">before
one of them came to be.”</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Psalm 139:16</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">I have been able to keep walking though each day of
my life since October 6, 2012 because I believe that God knows how many days
each one of us has and nothing can change the length of our time here. That
is the only thing that keeps me from living like a helpless victim: a woman whose
baby was stolen from her tragically and far too soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">But I also believe in the power of prayer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #020f18; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by
prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And
the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts
and your minds in Christ Jesus.”</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #020f18; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Philippians 4:6-7</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #020f18; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock
and the door will be opened to you.”</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #020f18; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Matthew 7:7</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Would it have made a difference if I had made a
Facebook page for Jack and generated more prayers for a miracle? Would he
have lived? I was so private during that month in the hospital. It
took me until the last week of his life to finally start a<a href="http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/jacklewis1"><span style="color: #0000e9;">
Caringbridge page</span></a> to keep close friends and family in the loop about
his health. What if I had shared the photos I took of his little body,
fighting septic shock, fighting for his life, as he appears to be sleeping
soundly. Would a miracle have come? Would Jack still be with us
today?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">Ultimately, I can't afford to spend too much time wondering.
If I want to keep stepping into each day and choosing to live, I have to
believe that Jack was with us for just as long as God had planned. I have
to believe that he completed his mission here on earth. I have to believe
that I will hold my sweet baby again one day in heaven. And I have to
believe the same for each of these sweet babies that pop into my newsfeed. They will be held in their mothers’
arms for eternity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;">I can pray for a miracle. I can pray for anything, as long
as I understand that a prayer is not an order to God, it is a request. And God may not answer my prayer in the
way I expect Him to answer. That
does not mean it that He is not good and loving. The most effective prayer I can pray is for their
families to know God and to feel His love and know His plan for all of their
lives. I know that God will take
care of these babies. I pray their
parents will allow God to comfort them as well.</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-36078700746774734682013-06-17T14:34:00.000-04:002013-07-08T15:58:32.508-04:00My life preserver tossed into the waves.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Grief for me feels a lot like weathering a hurricane in a row boat. I feel like I am being tossed around indiscriminately by huge menacing waves of sadness, anger and fear. Lately the waves have been rolling in and making me sick to my stomach. There is a heavy fog of hopelessness that hangs in the air and makes it hard for me to breathe. I wonder if it will ever get brighter and lighter. Everyone says that grief is a journey and it will lift one day. What if I am the only person who does not get that relief?<br />
<br />
Two months ago, something broke within me and this private storm started to leak into the world around me. I cried most days and it didn't matter if I was home alone or in the middle of a church service. I wept. My husband lovingly switched cars with me, saying that the sunshine and fresh air of the convertible would be good for me. It is pretty fun and I do have a tan but it didn't stop me from sobbing all the way home from the grocery store the other day. With the top down. Sobbing. Loudly. <br />
<br />
About a six weeks ago, I went on a leave of absence from work to address my grief and depression. The time away has allowed me to begin to heal. While I was working, recruiting in the health care world, I had to keep my emotional defenses up just to get through the work day. I was not allowing myself to react to the triggers throughout each day as clients and co-workers would talk about patient safety, mortality rates, and emotional demands of the ICU, without any emotion. To them it was business. To me it was the death of my son, my dreams, my innocence. I just kept stuffing my reactions deeper inside of myself. Now, with some time away, I am able to work through the grief, fears, guilt and anxiety that I have been holding at bay for 8 months. I am beginning to heal. I have been told that I will never get back to normal but I will discover a new normal. I just need some time to discover it.<br />
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The first week I was off of work, I came down with a terrible case of bronchitis. Then we packed up the little home we shared with Jack and moved. There were so many emotions that flooded over me during that week. In the past 2 years, that house saw me as a single engaged woman planning her wedding, a newlywed, an expectant mother, a new mother and shortly after, a grieving mother. That was the home where we were a family. A home where we made plans and dreamed about our future. It held a nursery for 6 months and then in a flash, it was gone. Returned to its status as an office. <br />
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When we had cleaned everything out and were waiting for the rental agent to come inspect the cottage, I took pictures. I took a picture of the kitchen sink, where Jack got all of his baths. I took a picture of the office, turned nursery, turned office. I had Josh touch the low ceiling in the family room, so we never forget how cozy we were for those first two years of our marriage. My heart broke to let go of the house where we were a family. I cried as we handed in our keys. And now, we drive by the house many times a day as it sits empty on the hill. I am not sure what the owners plan to do with it but we don't live there anymore.<br />
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Recently, I remembered something I heard about years ago: how important it is to have "eyes for eternity". At the time, I had no idea what they were talking about. I was not ready to understand. But having Jack pass on to be with the Lord before me has given me just that, eyes for eternity.<br />
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I firmly believe that our life on earth is a blip in light of the eternity we will spend in Heaven with Jack. I get my information from studying God's Word and the books of others who have closely read the Bible. When I think of time in that perspective, it is a lot easier to carry on each day. I can even be joyful knowing that I will get to spend eternity getting to know our sweet baby boy. I can also rest assured that Jack is safe in the arms of our Creator and will never be in danger again. What a gift to a mother, to know her baby is safe for eternity.<br />
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The only catch with my eyes for eternity is that it makes me want to hurry up and get to that eternity. If Heaven is going to be so wonderful, what are we doing still hanging around here? I have to have a firm grasp on my mission to be able to understand why I need to stay. Our mission on earth is to glorify God by loving our neighbors like Jesus does. We are to be a light in the darkness and offer hope to the hopeless. Jack was called home because he had completed his mission. I am still here because I have not.<br />
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Jack's gift of "eyes for eternity" is the the life-preserver that keeps me from going under each time I remember to grab for it. It helps when I look up at the night sky, at the ocean or to the horrizon as I drive through the countryside. Anytime I can look outside of myself in the moment, I am reminded that there is more for me and my family in this world. And there are wonderful things, and people, waiting for me when I finish my mission. I thank God for giving me that perspective.<br />
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<br />Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-91283606091807511312013-05-10T06:47:00.002-04:002013-05-10T11:14:09.033-04:00Dear Jack-<br />
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Happy Birthday, sweet boy! One year ago today you came into our world and changed me forever. You made me a mommy.<br />
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We did not know until you were born whether you were a boy or a girl. I had a dream that you were a girl and I was so sure that I even bought a madras plaid dress and brought it to the hospital to bring you home in! Don't worry, you did not have to wear the dress, lots of people came to visit you and brought little boy clothes in the perfect size for a preemie.<br />
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They called you a preemie because you were born four weeks early after 36 weeks in mommy's belly. You got to come early because my blood pressure was rising very high and the only way to make it stop was for you to make your arrival. You were born on May 10th, 2012 at 8:30am at Southern Maine Medical Center in Biddeford, Maine. Dr. Bittler and Dr. Manning delivered you. You were 4lbs 5oz and 17" long. All the nurses remarked about how perfect you were, just a perfect tiny baby boy. You were so healthy that you did not have to go to a special place to get care, you came right up to the room with mommy and daddy and stayed there.<br />
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Your Grammy and Grandpa Lewis were there waiting to see you and your Mimi and Bapa Hundley were on a airplane coming to Maine just to celebrate your arrival. What a special guy you were! There was always so much love surrounding you wherever you went. You were the first grandchild on the Lewis side and the first grandson on the Hundley side. You were kind of a big deal from the very start.<br />
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You were born the Thursday before Mothers' Day and you were the best present I could have ever imagined. I am so glad you came a month early so we could share a Mothers' Day together. I had no idea you would be back in heaven before Mothers' Day came around again.<br />
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I have to say, I get pretty jealous of God, Jesus, the angels and all the people who get to celebrate with you today. Your dad and I don't know what to do today. If you were here, we would be having a big party with all of our friends and yours. I bet Mimi and Bapa would have flown back out here from Wisconsin to help celebrate. There would probably be mexican food and cake for sure. Your dad would have already sang "Happy Bird Day to You" at least three times and I am sure I would be taking pictures like crazy.<br />
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Since you aren't here we are very sad. I have been crying a lot lately because my heart misses you so much. Last night your dad and I were out shopping and I picked up things to make a scrapbook of your life. I would have wanted to do it if you were still with us but it seems so much more important now. I want to remember every little thing about you and I want other people to remember you too. If God decides to bless us with other babies, we want them to know about their big brother, Jack, who lives in heaven. You will always be a part of our family, sweet boy. You are our first child. Our first born son.<br />
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After shopping we wanted to go to Chipotle for dinner. We went out for mexican food all the time before you were born. We used to joke that you would come out wanting guacamole, rather than milk, in your bottles. But just before we walked in the door, another mommy and daddy walked in holding a little boy who looked like he was about how old you would be if you were still here. They looked so happy together, the three of them, like some kind of team and they were the only members. I looked at the long line and decided it would make me too sad to look at that little boy with his mommy and daddy, so we left. We went to a different restaurant and sat down to eat. When we were almost done with dinner, another mommy and daddy sat down next to us. They also had a little boy with them. He wouldn't stop waving at us, even though I tried not to look at him, so I asked his mommy what his name was and how old he was. Griffen was 13 months old. He would have been in your class in school. He was very cuddly with his mommy and she said he was snuggly all the time. I got very sad all of a sudden and had to run outside to cry. I want so badly for you to be my snuggly little boy, just like you were 7 months ago. My arms are so empty without you, buddy. My heart hurts so much.<br />
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Do you remember how I used to rub my face against your soft cheek and whisper, "Mama, loves you" over and over until you settled down? I wish I could do that every single day. I think about you all the time, every day. Lots of my friends have babies and little guys the same age as you. I love to hold them and snuggle with them. Lately though, they all remind me that you are missing from our home and our arms.<br />
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Would you please do us a favor and put a bug in God's ear about sending us another baby? We would just love twins, actually. What? Oh no, not a real bug. That's a saying, like tell Him something or give Him an idea. We never did get around to reading Amelia Bedelia books about the danger of being too literal, haha.<br />
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This feels pretty good, to write a letter to you. Maybe I will send you some more letters. I can fill you in on what is going on with your Mommy and Daddy down here on Earth.<br />
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Until then, Happy First Birthday, John Donald Lewis. We love you so very much, Jackie boy. I hope you have a wonderful day in heaven. Since you are in paradise, I would imagine most days are, well, perfect. <br />
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I hope you don't miss me as much as I miss you. I could not bear to know that your heart breaks like mine, every minute of every day. But because of our faith, we know that heaven is a place with no more hurt, suffering, pain or tears. So I know you cannot feel the way I feel. Just know that Daddy and I are slowly making our way to where you are and someday we will spend all of our birthdays together, for the rest of eternity.<br />
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Mama loves you, mama loves you....Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-37667583658559901662013-04-14T18:27:00.000-04:002013-04-14T18:27:19.231-04:00A New Home.Yesterday we were invited to join our friends and their family to go bowling and out to dinner. I have pretty much been crying at the drop of a hat all week but I know I need to get out and keep living life. Plus, I had already broken down in the stands of a Major League Baseball game, what's a bowling alley? I was expecting to cry at some point during the outing but I was not prepared for how quickly it happened.<br />
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When ever we go north, we drive by "the hospital". It sits high above the city on a hill. For me, it is like a bully waiting at the entrance of a playground to take my milk money and make me cry. Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep until we pass it. Other times I have asked Josh to take a different route completely bypassing the city to get north. This time I decided to stare it down and really look at the place where we spent the worst 30 days of our lives. <br />
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Because the hospital sits on a hill, the rooms have great views. I spent a lot of hours staring out those windows and imagining our little family back out in the world together. There is a hallway outside of the ICU that is lined with windows. Most of them look at another part of the building but at the end of the hall you can see as far as the mountains. You can also see the airport with planes coming and going all day long. I would sit up in that windowsill when I needed a little break from all of the beeping of the ICU. When Jack was sedated and intubated, people would try to get me to go for a walk, take a nap or just "take a break" but I never wanted to be too far. I was afraid I would miss something important. I just wanted to be as close to my baby as I could be. The hallway was a safe distance in my mind.<br />
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I sat in that window, tucked my knees to my chest and watched the cars drive by on the tollway, coming and going, during rush hour or the middle of the day. I would wonder where they were going, work? somewhere fun? on vacation? All the time wondering if they knew how lucky they were to be outside in the world. Did they have any idea that there were lives placed on hold and others hanging in the balance, so close to their commute?<br />
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Now we are the people cruising down the tollway heading to go bowling with friends. I look up and I see the last place that Jack was in the world with us. I see the last place I held hope for his recovery. We fought for his life and lost there. I see the last place I saw my baby smile. We said goodbye there six months ago. I can see the window of the corner room at the end of the hall where Jack died and the pain is physical. What starts with a sniffle turns into a body shaking sob. Just looking at that building....I don't even have words. I asked Josh if we were just going to be stuck feeling awful every time we came in to the city. Could it ever possibly get easier? Will I ever drive by that building and not be flooded with tears?<br />
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In six weeks, we will move out of the home we shared with Jack. Not by choice, our lease is not being renewed. Some people have suggested that grief could be easier with a fresh start. I love being in the home we shared as a family. We did change the furniture around when we returned home without our son. Our family helped clear the baby bottles out of the sink, move the swing from the living room and gather up everything from the nursery. I just love sitting in the same window where I fed Jack all summer. I love looking in the kitchen and remembering his bath time in the sink. Looking over to where Josh would bounce him on his lap and make up songs for him. Every now and again I find a pair of his pajamas or a tiny hat mixed in with my tank tops. I like being where he was and where he lived. It makes me so sad to think that in two months, we will drive by this special place but not be welcome inside anymore.<br />
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I have thought about wanting to leave the area completely and move far away. That was my not-so-secret plan for a while. I wanted to raise Jack where I grew up and with my friend's children. I had it all planned out, block parties, play-dates and soccer games, it was going to be wonderful. That doesn't feel right anymore. I no longer have that desire to leave. I want to be near where Jack was. In his 4 months and 26 days here, Jack made this my new home. <br />
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Jack and I watched a lot of the Summer Olympics together. We especially loved the women's gymnastics and their theme song by <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoRkntoHkIE" target="_blank">Phillip Phillips: "Home".</a> Now when I hear that song, I think of Jack. I wonder if he had any idea that he was going to make this place my home?<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><b>Hold on, to me as we go</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><b>As we roll down this unfamiliar road</b></span></div>
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"></span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">And although this wave is stringing us along</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">Just know you’re not alone</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">Cause I’m going to make this place your home</span></div>
</span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.039772033691406px;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"></span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">Settle down, it'll all be clear</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">Don't pay no mind to the demons</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">They fill you with fear</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">The trouble it might drag you down</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">If you get lost, you can always be found</span></div>
</span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.039772033691406px;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"></span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">Just know you’re not alone</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">Cause I’m going to make this place your home</span></div>
</span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.039772033691406px;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"></span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">Settle down, it'll all be clear</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">Don't pay no mind to the demons</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">They fill you with fear</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">The trouble it might drag you down</span></div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">If you get lost, you can always be found</span></div>
</span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.039772033691406px;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"></span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">Just know you’re not alone</span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 28.046875px; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 28.046875px;">Cause I’m going to make this place your home</span></div>
</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-60247774261086593972013-04-09T13:37:00.001-04:002013-04-09T16:38:30.791-04:00Too Close to Home.I am a health care recruiter. Most of my work is as a nurse recruiter and for the past six months I have been working on positions like: Director of Home Health, Director of Hospice and CNAs. With my experience of the past year, I take a new understanding of how hospitals work and what nurses really do day to day. I watched it and lived it. I really like what I do and I love talking with nurses and connecting them to new opportunities.<br />
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And then yesterday my client asked me to partner with them on a Pediatric Intensive Care Unit Nurse.<br />
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I could hardly get through the call without breaking down. I wanted to some how share with them how close this project is to my heart. But I can't tell them what happened. There are professional boundaries that should not be crossed. It would be awkward to share Jack's story with a stranger over the phone. And then what would I expect them to say? Most people cry when I tell them what happened I don't really like making people cry, so I don't talk about it as much as I wish I could.<br />
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At one point on our call, it was mentioned that they need a nurse who can stay calm as "things go down the tubes fast" with a patient. It took every thing I had not to start sobbing. Things went "down the tubes fast" for my baby. Even typing this I am shaking and crying. How am I going to spend the next 30 days thinking about this and looking at it every single day?<br />
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As I work on my strategy for this position, I need to watch their employment video and read their website. I just cannot do it. I started and there are pictures of children with NG tubes everywhere. Children like Jack. I wonder if they are at home with their families now. I wonder what Jack would look like if he was with us. What would he be learning and doing? In the picture below, I caught him as he was learning to bring his hands to his mouth with a purpose. This was taken they day before what would be his fatal injury. He would have been 11 months tomorrow. Instead, Saturday marked 6 months that he has been gone from us.<br />
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I spent the day sobbing intermittently My pain is palpable and intense. We were away visiting friends and I cried my way though the Atlanta Botanical Gardens and at a Braves game. Thoughts hung in my mind like: "Six months ago right now we were called into the 'bad news room' outside of the PICU and got the news that we had to say goodbye...Jack would not live through the afternoon." I looked out at 40,000 people at the Braves game and thought: "None of these people are Jack. Jack will never see a baseball game. We will never watch Jack play baseball." And then my eyes would well up and I would be shaking and crying sitting in the upper deck of Turner Field.<br />
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I want to nuzzle my face against his so badly. That sweet smelling peach fuzz face that I miss so desperately. When Jack was upset or scared, all I had to do was rub my face against his and mummer "Mamma loves you. Mamma loves you." over and over again. It was like magic. He would soften and the tears would dry up as his stiff little baby body melted into my arms. He just needed that reassurance that I was there.<br />
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Now, I turn down the radio every day when I drive past Jack's cemetery and remind him "Mamma loves you." And then I cry the rest of the way home.<br />
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I think I need to put some of my Jack framed photos away for a while. Just looking with his sweet face ignites another round of sobbing. As I sit at my desk, I can count at least 5 Jack faces in my line of sight. These colorful reminders are more painful than anything now. This morning I even had to make my dog the background photo on my phone because any picture of Jack triggers more tears. I feel terrible for having to hide him away but I need to, at least for today.<br />
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Recruiting for this PICU RN is bringing up so many memories. The nurses who cared for Jack were absolute angels. They were confident, skilled and kind. They meticulously managed his medications and the machines that kept him alive during the darkest days. They offered hugs and hope each and every day. The night nurses held his little hand for hours while we got some much needed sleep. They cried right along with us when we said goodbye. A few even came to his visiting hours and funeral. I know they loved Jack too. <br />
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I wish I could see them and get some big hugs from the nurses and doctors who loved my baby boy and worked so hard to save him. I almost picked up the phone at lunch today to call the intensitivist who became like another mother to me during those terrible last weeks. I know we were only one of many families they treat over the year but they were the only team of health care professionals who loved Jack and supported us. There is an event this month to honor all of the babies like Jack. I just am not ready to return to the hospital. My wounds are still too raw.Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-49404491786459375412013-03-17T19:33:00.000-04:002013-03-18T14:03:36.378-04:00The Luck of the Irish?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As I think about the last year of our lives, luck is not the first word that comes to mind. Not good luck anyways. A year ago today, I was six months pregnant, full of hope, dreams and expectations of what my life would look like. With an adoring husband, loving family and friends surrounding me and an amazing life growing inside of me, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.<br />
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A month later I found out that I was one of the 5 percent of women who develop pre-eclampsia during pregnancy. That same week I learned that I was one of 0.5% of women who develop placenta-previa during their pregnancy. These two developments landed me on bed rest, at the hospital for twice weekly non-stress tests and with a certain c-section delivery. I was not feeling too lucky about either of those developments.<br />
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On a Monday, it was decided that I needed to deliver on Thursday, at 36 weeks 1 day. We were told that the baby would be totally fine after 36 weeks and that I needed to deliver to relieve my worsening condition. I was frightened at how intense everything had gotten but I felt safe and secure with our doctors. Jack was born on May 10th, weighing 4lbs 5oz, measuring 17" and scored an impressive 8 on his APGAR. The nurses could not believe how well he was for being so tiny. He did not need oxygen or heat lamps. He did not have jaundice and he passed all of his tests with flying colors. He was small but perfectly proportioned. He was beautiful.<br />
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As soon as we knew Jack was OK, attention turned back to my blood pressure. As the hours and days passed in the hospital, my blood pressure did not drop. I ended up spending my very first Mothers' Day on a drip of magnesium sulfate. If you do not know what this feels like, I pray you never do. This IV acts to flush out the swelling that is not only in your ankles but in your organs as well. If the swelling goes untreated, you risk seizures. Not good. Instead of seizures, I laid in bed while my veins burned for 24 hours. When my blood levels were checked after 24 hours, my treatment was extended another six. I honestly wondered if I would ever leave the hospital.<br />
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I watched as my husband changed Jack's first diapers and fed him his first drops of colostrum from an itty bitty cup. I felt totally helpless and like I was already not doing what I was supposed to be doing as Jack's mommy. It was like I was watching my family from far far away. I was not feeling very lucky those first few days.<br />
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Yesterday I was surrounded by lots of loving family and friends as we celebrated St. Patrick's Day just like our ancestors did; with corned beef, cabbage, soda bread and conference championship basketball. My parent's house was filled with laughter and love. However, all I could think about was who was missing from our party. <br />
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Everywhere I looked, I could just see where Jack had been when we visited in July. He had slept next to our bed in the guest room, rocked in his cousin's chair in the living room and snuggled in the arms of his aunties and uncles. And I could feel the space where he was not now. I thought about how he should be crawling around and playing with his cousin Grace. He should be wearing a silly green outfit and being fussed over by his great aunties and great grandmother. His absence at that party broke my heart all over again. I stepped away from the merriment, slipped up the stairs and sobbed big wet tears on the guest bed. I cried so loudly I was sure someone would hear me over the din of the party below. My heart has a Jack sized hole torn out of it and sometimes I just need to cry. As much as I wanted to be happy and laughing with the loved ones we flew 1200 miles to see, I could not. I cried until I gave myself a nosebleed and until my sister found me and rubbed my back as the last tears rolled out. God knew what He was doing when he gave me a baby sister.<br />
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I was able to rejoin the party after slapping on a fresh coat of makeup. I made it about another hour before I felt the waterworks starting back up. This time a dear family friend - and a woman of great faith- offered to walk around the block with me. As we walked, I talked and she listened. At one point felt a panic attack coming on and we breathed through it together. I told her how terribly unlucky I was feeling and she said something that totally changed my perspective in that moment. She told me how lucky I was to have Jack here with me for the time that I DID have. There are so many women who wait for years and years for the babies that never come. There are other mommies who's babies go to heaven before they are even born. They never get to hold their sweet children. I did get that honor.<br />
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I am lucky. More than that, I am blessed to be Jack's mommy. I got to hold that sweet baby boy for almost 5 months. Jack connected me to mothers in a community where I barely knew anyone. He earned my entrance to the local moms' group and is still making friends for me. <br />
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He let me see our hospital system up close and personal, in a way that has made me want to go back to school to be a nurse. I want to be one of those angels in scrubs that shows love to people at their most vulnerable time. <br />
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Jack introduced me to an amazing man, his father. I knew I loved and respected my husband when I married him but I had no idea how much more I would love him when he became a father. Watching his tenderness as he cradled our tiny son and jumped at the chance to change his diapers or take him for a jog in the BOB, making up silly songs , those were gifts. And again my love grew when we were in crisis mode for a month in the hospital. I leaned on the strength, optimism and faith of my beloved. He looked at each day as the day that we would all go home together and get back to our lives. Just when I thought I loved him as much as I could, we lost Jack. Once again, we clung to each other. He wrote the obituary when my mind was mush. He made decisions by day and held me as I cried in the evenings. We ran away together up the coast after the funeral and regrouped as a family and a team. We are the only two people in the world who share the bond of being Jack's parents and that is so powerful. My love for Josh has grown exponentially because Jack lived and died.<br />
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Jack also changed my heart, flipped my perspective and grew my faith in a way I could never have imagined. I get very uncomfortable when people marvel about my faith. The only reason my faith is as big and strong as it is today is because it has to be. I ended up at a point in life where I could no longer pretend to run the show on my own. I needed a much bigger faith in a much bigger God to carry me though the dark days after Jack went to heaven. I had to chose whether to decided that God was everything and still in control OR if I was living in a random world with no purpose or meaning. I made the only decision I could.<br />
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I decided to believe that God is all powerful and that He has a different perspective on this life than I do. I believe that Jack is in heaven. I believe that heaven is a perfect place, where the people who love the Lord go to spend eternity in His presence. I believe it is infinitely better than this broken world we live in today. I believe I will see Jack again and be with him for eternity in heaven. When I came to these beliefs, I found peace. When I return to them, I find peace all over again. <br />
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God did not take my baby away to punish me because God does not see heaven as a punishment. God brought Jack home to relieve him of pain and suffering in this life. I often focus on where Jack is not, rather than where he is. I think of the time I do not have with Jack, rather than the days, weeks and months that I did have. Nothing in this world is certain. I tend to trudge through my days looking forward to this trip, that credit card being paid off, whatever it is. But none of that is guaranteed. Just this past Friday we got an email letting us know our lease is not being renewed. I assumed we would live in our little cottage until we saved up a down payment on a house. Apparently that is not God's plan. So we will move in 2 months, OK.<br />
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Jack gave me the ability to go with the flow a bit more. I have loosened my grip on life. I realize that I can control my actions and how I treat others but everything else is pretty much out of my control. And I am actually happier when I realize that and give in to it.<br />
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<span style="color: #666600; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"><b>An Irish Prayer</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">May God give you...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large;">For every storm, a rainbow,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large;">For every tear, a smile,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large;">For every care, a promise,</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large;">And a blessing in each trial.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large;">For every problem life sends,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large;">A faithful friend to share,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large;">For every sigh, a sweet song,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: large;">And an answer for each prayer.</span></div>
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Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-39929259743688167122013-03-06T14:00:00.001-05:002013-03-06T15:08:48.345-05:005 Months: In the arms of Jesus longer than the arms of his parents.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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:<br />
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<ol>
<li>Eat well</li>
<li>Get enough sleep</li>
<li>Exercise</li>
<li>Pray</li>
<li>Talk to someone</li>
<li>Do something for someone else\</li>
<li>Cut yourself some slack</li>
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<li>I have taken an interest in clean local eating - hence the farmers' market.</li>
<li>We go to bed at about 8 pm every night since we cancelled cable - that's another story.</li>
<li>We have been working out together with a trainer a few mornings per week.</li>
<li>I spend time reading God's Word most mornings and I talk to him throughout the day. I ask HIM for help.</li>
<li>I have enlisted a crack team of professional and armature listeners.</li>
<li>I am wrapping this into #1 at the moment by cooking for my husband most days. Its a win-win.</li>
<li>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.</li>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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<span style="background-color: #fffefd; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><b>"Restore our fortunes, LORD, as streams renew the desert.</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fffefd; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><b>Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy.</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fffefd; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><b>They weep as they go to plant their seed, but they sing as they return with the harvest."</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fffefd; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><b>Psalm 126:4-6</b></span></div>
Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-51767886657156910432013-02-16T15:42:00.004-05:002013-02-17T09:49:17.755-05:00Trying to Make Sense of Grief.I keep trying to make sense of things this week but I just keep coming up with contradictions. Grief does not make any sense. It is so hard. It seems to go on for ever. We truly do just try to make it though each day. People say not to wish your days away but they must not know grief like this. It seems to be an endless string of cliches and contradictions.<div><br />
</div><div>I feel the need to distract myself with work but then I can't focus for more than 10 minutes on anything.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to go away for the weekend to a remote mountain retreat but don't want to go through the hassle of leaving the house.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I throw myself into a clean eating kick and a fitness regimen on day and the next day I am so sad all I want to is pizza and Dove dark chocolate. Even though I know that won't fix anything, I am drawn to it time and again. Maybe this time it will work.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to go to the farmer's market this morning but I don't want to drive there and be around all those people.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to sleep a lot but once I fall asleep I only have bad dreams.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I know I will feel better if I get to the gym or go for a walk but I can't seem to get myself moving.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I have a business selling beautiful jewelry but I sit around in the same two pairs of black yoga pants, Old Navy cotton maternity shirts and my husband's fleece every day.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I want to "get our finances in order" but I also want to spend recklessly on fancy shampoo, blush and lipstick to wear while I sit around the house and work from home.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I wish my friends back in the Midwest were closer and could come over to sit with me while I cry before dinner most days. However, I never pick up the phone to call any of them or answer the phone when they call. I just don't want to be cheered up. </div><div><br />
</div><div>As much as I want to be done grieving and be "better" or "happy again", I actually want to be miserable right now. I hurt in a very physical and all consuming way but it feels right. I should be hurting like that. My son was taken from me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>In typical God style, He has slipped someone into my life to guide me and speak truth to me though this dark time. I have been slowly getting to know a lovely woman since I moved to town almost two years ago. Recently, I learned that she is somewhat of an expert on both grief and God's Word. </div><div><br />
</div><div>She is having me read through the Gospel of Luke, very slowly, imaging what it must have been like for Mary of Nazareth to have an angel appear in her bedroom one morning to tell her that God love her so much he was going to use her to bring into the world the Savior of her people. Wow. Really sit and think about that. He was not promising to make her life joyful and easy because he found favor in her. He was going to impregnate her by the Holy Spirit before she was married, something that could get her stoned. Then she would have her hands full with a child who ran off at the crowded temple to teach the elders, as the family had begun their days long walk home. Later she would watch as her own Jewish people would say horrible things about her baby boy, plot to murder him and then actually watch as they did so. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I think back to when I went to St. Peter's in Rome after studying Michelangelo's Pieta in Art History class. I knew I was standing in front of a beautiful and significant work of art. I had no idea how much it would resonate with me 10 years later as a mother holding her son's lifeless body.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I am looking forward to seeing what God shows me though Mary and Jesus' lives. I hope I can find some comfort. We met earlier this week to talk about what I had read and the conversation really took a turn to a pretty powerful revelation. I don't feel like God has been listening to me for years. </div><div><br />
</div><div>A dear friend of mine was diagnosed with cancer in September of 2011. She had just been out for my wedding and was thrilled to be expecting a child just 3 months after her own summer wedding. She found out she had cancer 2 weeks after I saw her. I prayed and prayed for God to touch her and heal her. I had my church pray. I asked everyone I knew or met to pray for her to be fully healed. She went home to heaven in December of 2011. God did not answer my prayer to save her.</div><div><br />
</div><div>My first year after moving East I prayed and prayed for Josh to want to move to Milwaukee. I was so homesick I could not imagine living my life so far from my family and friends. I knew God could move us home if he wanted to. We didn't go.</div><div><br />
</div><div>When Jack was in the hospital I prayed and prayed for him to get better. I begged God to heal him. Our church prayed. Everyone we came across said that their family, church, bible study, everyone was praying for Jack. He was even on a prayer email that is sent to over a million people in the South. I was convinced that God would heal Jack in an amazing miracle and so many people would be amazed and their faith would be strengthened and they would love God more than they ever had because He had listened and He had given us what we asked for: Jack alive. I knew God would save Jack. I just knew it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We know I did not get the answer I wanted to that prayer.</div><div><br />
</div><div>My thought was never that God <b><u>could not</u></b> answer my prayers. I became convinced that God <b><u>did not want to</u></b> answer them. I was not sure if it was because my faith was not strong or mature enough. Either way, as my friend pointed out, I really did not feel like God was listening to me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Monday afternoon I could feel the tears bubbling up in my chest. It was as if my heart started crying hours before my eyes got in on the act. When those tears bubbled up they overflowed in a powerful way with waves of sorrow washing over me for more than an hour. </div><div><br />
</div><div>My home office is in the same room that was Jack's nursery. While we have put away all of his clothes and furniture, his books remain on the shelf. I pulled down a few books, curled up in a chair and started to read to Jack. As the sun began to set on that day, I read "Mommy and Me", "Thank You God for Mommy" and "Snuggle Puppy". Reading aloud evolved into shouting, sobbing, and hyperventilating with some bits of book mixed in. The books were talking about mommies keeping baby safe, sob. Mommies holding baby while he drifts off to sleep to the sound of her heartbeat, groan. Mommy teaching baby about faith in God, wail. I cried out to God though my tears and dripping nose, </div><div><br />
</div><div><b>WHY? </b></div><div><b><br />
</b></div><div><b>WHY us? </b></div><div><b><br />
</b></div><div><b>WHY Jack?</b></div><div><b><br />
</b></div><div><b>WHY could you not have healed him and used THAT for your glory?</b></div><div><b><br />
</b></div><div><b>WHY did you let him die?</b></div><div><b><br />
</b></div><div><b>I trust you but this hurts so badly I can't breath. I can't see though this darkness. How can anything be worth this pain? How can we be happy again without Jack here with us? </b></div><div><br />
</div><div>I wanted God to hear me so I really let Him have it. After all, Jesus wept when his friend Lazarus died. (John 11:35). He also cried out to God asking for relief: <span style="background-color: #fffefd; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><i>About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?"--which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Matthew 27:46)</i></span></div><div><br />
</div><div> And the Psalmist constantly let God know he wanted God to jump in and do something. </div><div><span style="background-color: #fffefd; color: #001320; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</span></div><div>I wept and moaned until the dog even left the room. I could not get air in my lungs to power my sorrow. I actually cried until I physically could not cry any longer. At the end there were a few little bouts left and I squeezed the tears out of me like a wet dish rag. Afterwards, that is what I felt like. Limp. Worn out.</div><div><br />
</div><div>My friend shared with me a beautiful analogy about a snake shedding its skin revealing the new skin that is already underneath. She wanted to show me that I am not going to be the same woman I was before Jack. I have carried my son, given birth and buried him in a year. I am not that same girl that I was when I lived in Chicago or even the day I was married just 17 months ago. I could never be the same after Jack lived and died. </div><div><br />
</div><div>When a snake prepares to shed its skin, it wedges itself in a safe place, away from predators and uses the confined space to wiggle out of its old skin that no longer fits. After a time of healing, it emerges ready to return to life with a skin that fits his newly grown self.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I suppose I can relate to that snake. I want to hide in a dark, enclosed safe place while I learn how to adapt to the new woman I am. It is comfortable for me to stay home, hide in bed, not answer the phone and turn down invitations. I had so little time to get used to being a mother. Now I am a mother without a baby in her arms. I am going to need to give myself some time to shed my old skin and grow into the new skin. I also need to trust that God will keep me though this process and bring me out the other side when my new skin is ready.</div>Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-15965394156088845172013-02-09T09:30:00.002-05:002013-02-09T09:57:01.926-05:00Learning to be Still in the Storm.<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This morning Nemo, the blizzard, continues to rage outside our little cottage with howling winds, snow drifting up the window and no sign of letting up anytime soon. For some reason I am filled with a sense of peace, contentment and gratitude. I don't understand why. I had a really difficult and deeply sad week with my grief. I spent a lot of time crying and being washed over with wave after wave of tears. Today though, my heart is full of praise during a very real storm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am thankful for our cozy Cape. I usually think about how small it is and how much I would like a bigger home, one I could entertain friends and family with big dinners and parties. I day dream about two stories, more than one bathroom, a kitchen island and more outlets. I think about how amazing it will be to have a fenced in yard someday. This morning I am glad our home is small enough to heat quickly and and stay warm as the wind chills drop below zero outside. It is just the right size for Josh and me. We only have one TV and one couch, which means we spend a whole lot of time together. And in this season of our lives, that is probably important. That we hunker down and cling to each other as we continue to weather the storm inside our hearts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am also thankful that God picked me to be Jack's mommy. Yesterday all I could think of was what was taken from me. What a victim I am to my circumstances. The memories I won't be able to make with my son. Today I am remembering the time I did have with our little man, how bright his smile was and that I was the one he was smiling at.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lately, I have really been wrestling with what parts of our storm have been God's plan for our lives and what have been a result of the fallen world we all live in. Did God plan for Jack to have such a traumatic last month of life in the hospital and to die from septic shock? I don't think so. God would not want to harm one of his precious little children. But he is Sovereign and we know nothing happens without his knowledge...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or did human error set off a terrible painful chain of events that God will use for his Glory and for good for us all? Did God mercifully take Jack home to heaven before he could suffer anymore pain? Absolutely. These are the winds that have been blowing me back and forth and turning me around until I am convinced I cannot figure out the truth. Where is God in this storm and where isn't he?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Be Still and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have been meditating on that verse a lot lately. By "meditating" I do not mean lighting incense and sitting cross legged on the floor. I don't think my legs would bend like that these days and incense nauseates me. (Like my dear Grandmother, I am very sensitive to smells.) I simply sit quietly and think about what that means. I try to obey. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, I am thankful that I can be sure of one thing: God is not asking me to figure everything (or anything) out. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He is asking me to be still and know that He is God. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Be still." I can do that. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Know that I am God." OK. I do know that. So, nothing about needing to understand why? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Great! It is very comforting to be reminded that the Creator of our entire Universe is running this show and I do not need to jump in and take over for Him. God is truth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another verse that has really been popping up all over the place for me is <span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">Isaiah 55:8-9 :</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“For my thoughts<sup class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-18749A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></sup> are not your thoughts,</span></div>
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<span class="indent-1" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-55-8" style="position: relative;">neither are your ways my ways,”</span></span></div>
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<span class="indent-1" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-55-9" style="position: relative;">so are my ways higher than your ways</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: left;">This Scripture tells me that God's thoughts are not the same as mine. Whew! What a relief for all of us. We would all be in trouble if God thought like me. I am fearful and I have doubt. I am constantly changing my mind about everything. God is constant and his thoughts are much much higher than mine. I can only see the 1/4 mile down the road during a blizzard and our Lord sees it all; today and all of our tomorrows.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: left;">I need to know that God sees my life, our whole world, differently than I do. He sees His creation as a whole, </span>perfect plan, all leading to His children spending eternity with Him. He sees a much bigger picture than I do. One that spans all of time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />He also sees life on earth and death very differently than we do. He sees death for His children as a necessary step to eternity in heaven. It is not an end but a beginning for those who believe in Him and have trusted His son, Jesus, with their lives. We weep and mourn the loss of our loved ones on this earth, because this is all we can see and know for sure. We think of life in finite terms of 70, 80, 90 years. But that is not how God sees His creation at all. Our lives on earth will be a blip in the course of eternity. God is thrilled to have Jack with him! God also knows that he has more love and joy in store for us here on earth, before we are reunited with Jack in heaven one day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />His Word tells me that God is not the author of confusion but of peace. So I can know that the peace I feel today in my heart is from God. That peace has been easier to find when I am letting God know how much I need Him and then opening up His Word, the Bible, and letting Him share these encouraging truths with me each morning. <span style="background-color: white;">I feel loved, warm and peaceful, at least for today.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I</span><span style="background-color: white;"> suppose it is like turning on the Weather Channel and trusting Jim Cantore to guide us though Nemo. We know where to go and who to trust to bring us though sever weather. The same way I know God is the expert on the storms of my heart and his word will carry me though. He created my heart, so why look anywhere else to heal it. The storm has not slowed down and I don't know when it will, but I can have peace in midst of it today. What a blessing. Thank you, Jesus.</span></span><br />
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Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-11310476583150561712013-02-05T13:01:00.000-05:002013-03-18T15:56:31.086-04:00When Codolence Cards and Cookies Turn Into Collection Calls.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(This is a picture of our preppy little man a week before he turned 4 months old.)</div>
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Tomorrow will be four months since Jack went home to be with our Lord Jesus. Four months is almost how long we had him in our arms. Four months was how long he lived before he went into the hospital. Four months is nothing, not enough time to be with your baby and entirely too long to be without him. For us, four months is just the beginning. </div>
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Our pain has in no way started to subside. If anything, it is more real and more raw with each passing week. My heart physically hurts. It is heavy. It is hard to breathe. I feel physically ill when I think back to Jack's last week in the hospital. Just when I think we are really grieving, it hurts even more. I asked a friend and grief specialist from a local church how I would know if we were grieving. She told me that grieving is sleeping more than normal (check), eating more than normal (check) and not wanting to be out in public or around other babies (check). </div>
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We just do not want to leave the house much, especially after a long hard day of work and mourning. Last week we were too sad to go to puppy obedience class with Lucy. We decided to home school her for the week. We have not been to our regular Thursday night Bible study all month. We would rather eat dinner and go to sleep at 8pm...and that is what we do almost every night.</div>
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We have even skipped the last 2 sessions of the parents' grief group. It doesn't start till 7pm and is a solid 25 minute drive from our house. It is just too much hassle for now.</div>
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On Saturday, we went for a day long drive. It was the perfect solution to my desire to both run away and stay isolated. We drove all over and ended up in North Conway, NH for dinner. We ran from the sea to the mountains and were still able to spend most of our time alone together (with the dog) in our truck. Perfect. Then a family came into the restaurant where we went for dinner and they had the audacity to have two adorable children with them, one looking about Jack's age. Ugh. Kids are everywhere. </div>
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I love kids. I want more kids. But lately, they just remind me that they are not Jack.</div>
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So, here we are at four months without our our beloved son. The condolence cards and coffee cakes have long since dried up. There was that initial flood in the immediate weeks after Jack's death. There was love literally pouring into our lives in the form of greeting cards and baked goods each and every day. It all came at once and before we could even really process it all. We were still too numb. Now the lonely reality is setting in and other people's lives are carrying on, as they should. We are still here, missing Jack constantly and instead of cards from loved ones, we get hospital bills.<br />
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These days opening envelopes from the hospital is almost a daily occurrence. Or at least it feels that way. First come the bills you get before insurance has been billed. I am not even sure why they send these because we have insurance and clearly they will pay for some of this. The first one of those arrived the day before Jack's funeral. He had been gone less than a week and we get a bill for well over six figures. My son died in your care and this is how much it cost us? Why can't the case managers connect with the billing department to at least delay things like that from happening? Give us a week or two, ok? They should figure out a way to communicate better with their own billing department.<br />
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Pretty soon we started getting actual bills. We had spoken with our insurance company while we were still in the hospital and our understanding was that we had met all of our deductibles with Jack's birth and that insurance would cover the rest of his care in 2012. I even called at one point and talked to billing for the hospital. I explained what I understood and that Jack had not come home from their hospital. We agreed that it would take a while for insurance work it all out. She promised me she would flag the account so that it would never be sent to collections. So when the bills kept coming, we filed them away assuming that insurance would eventually pay them. They did not. </div>
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The bill collection calls started.<br />
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We paid the collection agency promptly to avoid hits to our credit scores and two weeks later another bill shows up from the hospital for the same amount. Another call to the hospital billing yesterday, this time I am in tears with this woman. Why? Why does this have to be so difficult? She apologized profusely once I explained that Jack had died at their hospital and she assured me once again that we were paid in full and would not be sent to collections.<br />
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So, this morning I see another envelope from the hospital. I think, well, it can't be too bad, we are paid in full. So I opened it. And I was treated to an itemization of the services that were administered to save Jack from septic shock on September 29th: Insert emergency air: $328, Insert non tunnel cv: $383, initial pediatric CA: $619, Insert needle in bone: $188....the list goes on and immediately I am back in the PICU that night. It all seemed like a terrible dream when it was happening. All kinds of nurses and doctors swarming around Jack with tubes and needles and machines ready to be plugged in. I stood just outside the door watching. Frozen. Not able to look away. He had been in the hospital for three weeks at that point. We were supposed to be on our way home in 36 hours. I am weeping while I type this. Thinking of his physical pain and suffering is unbearable.<br />
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Every time I open one of those envelopes I am reminded of the physical nature of Jack's life and death. It is much easier to step back, detach myself and take a spiritual approach. Easier is a relative term in this case, I suppose. I fully believe that Heaven is a real place. I believe Jack is there. I believe he knows how much we love him and I believe we will be reunited with him one day and for all of eternity. I believe all of those things but I cannot touch them or see them with my eyes or lay hands on them yet. I suppose that is where faith comes in.<br />
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I need that faith to overcome the physical reminders of the physical reality of what happened. The bills dragging me mentally back to the hospital. The daily drives past Jack's cemetery reminding me that his body is less than 2 miles from me even now. The memories of holding his puffy little hand and begging him to open his eyes or pee a little more for us. The last time I held him in my arms. The physical is painful. I cannot even put a happy cherry on top today. I am hurting. This is so very hard, every single day. <br />
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The only way I am making it through this is by fully admitting personal defeat and asking God to carry me each day. I do not have the strength to do any of this on my own. I am living that Footprints in the Sand poem that is in my grandparents bathroom. There is only one set of footprints today because God has me in his arms. </div>
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I am reading a book by Beth Moore "Praying God's Word" and there is a chapter on overcoming grief. That is helping. There is also<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ylnx0NA9X4" target="_blank"> a song by Plum, "I Need You Now (How Many Times).</a> The first time I heard this song was back in September when Jack was still with us. Now when I hear it, I sing at the top of my lungs and bawl. I heard it on the radio this morning on my way home from the grocery store. I sobbed the rest of the way home. That is all I can do some days. </div>
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<strong>How many times have you heard me say, God please take this? </strong></div>
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<strong>God, I need you now!</strong></div>
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Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-26821553105480737262013-01-29T08:14:00.000-05:002013-01-29T08:14:08.832-05:00Other People's Baby Whisperer.We still get baby magazines in the mail. You know the ones you never signed up for but somehow arrive month after month. There is Parents, Parenting, Baby Talk, American Baby, all bright and glossy, with happy smiling babies and in my post office box waiting for me. Can you unsubscribe from a magazine you didn't subscribe to? I wouldn't want to if I could.<br />
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I love snuggling under the covers and pouring over the pages of cheerful advice on food allergies, teething, BPA in baby food, sleep training, and getting along with other moms by not judging their parenting (we need an article to tell us that?). It has been over three months since I needed to make a parenting decision but still I spend Sunday afternoons hiding under the covers with my magazines, pretending I am going to apply all this knowledge to mothering Jack.<br />
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Babies R Us is still sending their mailers with 20% off coupons -let me know if you want me to save them for you. Each one reminds me of the gift card in my wallet. We were waiting to spend the generous baby shower gift on a bouncy seat when we got home from the hospital. We didn't get to buy that bouncer. Just this week I took that card out of my wallet. We aren't shopping at baby stores these days.<br />
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And then there are the emails...Emails from Gymboree and Old Navy suck me into 30 minutes of looking at baby boy clothes on-line. I marked Gymboree as Spam but I still see them when I clean out my Spam folder. I can't quite bring myself to unsubscribe. Recently, seeing Jack's jeans from this summer on sale for 50% off hit me hard. We have done such a thorough job of packing away all of Jack's things, that it has started to feel like he was just a dream. We have pictures of him everywhere, but we were in such a fog this fall, it is just now lifting. I had a baby. And then he went to heaven. What? Seeing those tiny jeans online reminded me that it has not been that long since my baby was here. Here in my arms and in our home. Sigh. This is real.<br />
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Probably the toughest reminders that I cannot seem to dodge are the emails from Baby Center each month, telling me my baby is now 8 months and should be starting to crawl soon. Yes, he should be. But our story was not the one we thought it should be. As many times as I unsubscribe to that monthly email, they keep coming, like a weed.<br />
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Even our new puppy Lucy reminds me of our loss. She is such a cuddly lovebug, I wish Jack could have know her. I can imagine his joyful giggling as she licks his face. I can imagine it because last week Lucy and I went and visited our friends' little boy, Oscar. Oscar was born a couple weeks before Jack and Lucy just loved licking his chubby little face. It was precious.<br />
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When I was pregnant I thought a lot about how fun it was that so many of my friends -at least 8- were having babies within a few months of me. I daydreamed about them growing up together, play dates, school, scouts, sports, block parties....my biggest concern was if we could move back to the midwest so we could all grow up together.<br />
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Now I get to watch those beautiful babies grow up through the miracle of Facebook. Some days it is really hard to see the photos of them sitting up, getting ready to crawl, growing hair....but I love it just the same. As much as it hurts to think of what Jack is not doing here on earth, it also reminds me that he was real. He was here. He was loved.<br />
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The strangest thing has happened since Jack went to heaven, I have developed a magic touch with other people's babies. I can think of 6 cranky babies that I have been able to lull when nothing else was working for their parents. It started happening over the holidays when we were visiting friends with babies around Jack's age. They would start to fuss and I would offer to hold them. Their mom would say "Oh, she doesn't like new people and this is her fussy time". I would insist and within about 30 seconds, the baby would be settled and on her way to sleep.<br />
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This has happened over and over again. My friends have started calling me the Baby Whisperer. As a big fan of Caesar Milan, the dog whisperer, I am honored by this title. I have always been good with babies, but this seems to be different. They truly settle almost immediately in my arms. On Christmas Eve, I was able to take turns holding Josh's cousin's twins who had been born 2 days before Jack in May. These little darlings were tired and fussy. At first I wasn't sure I would be able to hold them. My heart was breaking for the first Christmas we would not spend with Jack and I was feeling something bordering on jealousy for a dear family who have not one but two babies. But I felt drawn to them, so I hopped up and offered to hold the baby boy. He had been really worked up but within a minute, he was relaxed and still. People marveled. A little bit later, baby girl was giving another auntie a hard time. I offered my services and she quieted in about 20 seconds. To be totally honest, as much as I loved holding those little darlings, I did have to step away for bit. I walked down the hall, away from the merriment, and wept for a while. This is not easy.<br />
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Even little Oscar relaxed into a snuggle bunny in my arms last week and his moms said he never lets anyone hold him like that.<br />
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I am by no means saying that I am doing anything myself that their mothers can't do. I do have a special hold and bounce move that I can show you sometime but something is different since Jack went to heaven. I don't think I am imagining this. Every baby I see seems to smile at me. Big smiles. They stop crying and smile. People have offered explanations for this. Maybe I have a guardian angel following me around and the babies can see him. Maybe they have a way of knowing that I am Jack's mama. I have always thought that babies and children can "see" angles among us until we convince them that they cannot.<br />
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I think it is a God thing. I think He has given me an increased ability to comfort others through my pain. I pray every single day that God make something beautiful out of this tragedy. That He use me to do His work in other people's lives. That He use this pain to comfort others. I believe He is.<br />
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So, give me a buzz when your baby is fussy and nothing else is doing the trick. I will do my best to send her off to sleep. I still get an emotional "hangover", a sharp pain of missing Jack in my heart, the next day after playing with babies. It is worth that spike of pain to hold a warm soft bundle of baby and feel the weight in my arms as I bounce from side to side. That feeling that is just so right, I can't pass it up.Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-58742091584596136982013-01-08T21:10:00.000-05:002013-01-08T21:10:00.596-05:00Happy New Year?2012 was the year my life long dream came true. <div>
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It was also the year my worst nightmare came true. </div>
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All my life I have wanted to be a mom. I am the oldest of three kids and I loved looking after (bossing around) my brother and sister. I took the Red Cross babysitting class as soon as I turned 12 and I quickly became a career babysitter. I took care of kids Friday and Saturday nights of most weekends in junior high and high school. I was a mother's helper and went on vacation with a family. People booked me months in advance for New Years Eve. I am serious. I took care of my college Spanish professor's ninos back when Dora was the new kid on the block. I was still babysitting when I was in my mid-twenties before I moved to Chicago. I have been practicing to be a mom all my life. I did not particularly want to be anything professional other than a mom. Which is probably why I majored in Art History, I enjoyed it and was not too worried about a career. When I was nearing the end of college, single as they come, I started to get nervous that I may have to come up with a Plan B.<div>
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Nine years after college graduation, I finally got the job I wanted. In May, I became Jack's mommy! I threw myself into the job and although it was much more intensive than babysitting, I think I was pretty good. It helps that I have an amazing husband. Besides being my best friend, he is an exceptional hands on father. We had a lot of love in our little house this summer. Not much sleep but a lot of snuggles, kisses and singing.</div>
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When Jack went home to heaven in October, my worst nightmare had come true. Losing Jack was the worst thing I could imagine. It still is. And in some way, that is a gift. I have experienced such excruciating heartache, I don't fear much anymore. What could hurt worse than losing your baby before he even reaches 5 months in your arms? The end of the world? Nope, not scared. Actually looking forward to it, since I know where I am going and that Jack would be waiting for me. Truth be told, I was kind of bummed when December 21st came and went. Part of me was hoping I'd see Jack again that day. </div>
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I have also really let go of my fear of judgement from my peers. I have done quite a bit of emotional eating lately and before Christmas, I was the highest weight I have ever been. The "pre-Jack" me would have been worried about what people were thinking about me; friends, family, strangers. Today, I really do not care. I am sure people are thinking about their own problems and not my pants size. That is a freedom for me.</div>
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Before Jack I used to be much more guarded about my faith. With church friends, I would talk openly about what God was doing in my life or how I draw strength from reading the Bible. I would sling along to Christian radio and share devotional emails. But with my family and other friends, I was much more subdued. I did not want people to think I was a "Jesus Freak" or "Super Christian" or a general weirdo. I did not want to make anyone uncomfortable by talking about how Jesus has saved me from my sins by dying on the cross. But when Jack left this world, all of that changed too.</div>
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A piece of me is now in heaven.</div>
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Heaven is never more real than when your baby is there waiting for you. I am on fire for God. The God who made the whole universe and each one of us in it. He loves us all so much. He loves Jack so much, he brought him home before he suffered anymore in our earthly hospitals. And he loves me enough to comfort and strengthen me during the most difficult 3 months of my life. He has shown me love though my devoted husband, loving parents and in-laws, siblings, friends, neighbors, church family, work family and even strangers. I want to shout out to anyone who will listen that God is real. Jesus is real. And heaven is absolutely real. What a gift to have a faith that is immeasurably stronger than ever before.</div>
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On the last day of 2012, Josh took our dog Nikki to be put down. We are not sure how old she was because we rescued her 18 months ago and she was in really rough shape then. We gave her a loving home for the end of her life and then we had to make the incredibly difficult decision to relieve her of her pain. It took a month of talking about it until we knew it was time. Looking back, it was an appropriate end to a very difficult year. I wish I could say I am glad 2012 is over but when I think about it, I don't want to shut the door on the year I became Jack's mom. I want to keep it alive, even with all the pain. And the pain is with me, I cried so hard in the car today that I actually washed one contact out of my eye with tears.</div>
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But the new year has given me a new sense of hope, as well. I have a verse taped to my computer monitor.</div>
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"This is the day the LORD has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it."</div>
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I find I have an easier time seeing the joy in my day when I exercise, get some sun and eat well. Go figure. That was the exact advice we were given in a packet from the hospital the day we left without our son. It seemed unreasonable to expect us to do any of those things then. Our son was gone. Why bother? But today we are bothering and it helps a lot. I don't do those things every day but when I do, I feel better.</div>
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The other joy maker in our lives came to us this last Saturday and has brought more laughter in three days than we have had in the last three months combined. Lucy is a 4 month old goldendoodle. She is a snuggle bug with tons of energy and she gets me outside and keeps me moving. She makes me laugh all day long with her antics around the house. She laid right across our laps like a heating pad while we watched Downton Abbey. She brings life back into our quiet home. I know God had a hand in bringing us just the right pup. I wish Jack had been here to play with her but I have a feeling he knows about Lucy and is glad his mommy and daddy are smiling again. </div>
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People have been telling me they feel good things coming this year for Josh and me. I would like to say that I do too. I have learned not to get my heart set on my plan though. Today I am praying that God's will be done in my life and that he use me to help others. I found out that another little boy from our area went to meet Jesus today. All I can think of is his mommy. I wish I could give her a hug. I pray that God will use my pain to comfort her some day. If 2013 brings good things from Jack's short life, then it will be a very happy new year.</div>
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Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-34759381283268450462012-12-28T17:35:00.001-05:002012-12-28T21:51:17.748-05:00Christmas... Just Not the One I Had Dreamed.<span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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, tr</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ee </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">lightings<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">, sh</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">opping. 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.</span><br />
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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. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Especially when we were in the hospital for 31 days. It did not seem like real life.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> Now I have bad dreams when I sleep and then each morning, I awaken to remember that Jack is still gone. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">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 </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">exercising. We started working out together with a trainer three mornings a week and I am trying my hand at "clean" cooking. Cooking (and <a href="http://pinterest.com/kateporpoise/" target="_blank">obsessively combing Pinterest for recipes</a>) 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.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></span></div>
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Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-73277692092056142082012-12-14T16:43:00.000-05:002013-02-06T15:34:07.482-05:00For the Mothers Who's Babies are Now in Heaven.<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>***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***</strong></div>
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<em>Daddy, please don't look so sad. Momma, please don't cry.</em></div>
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<em>Cause I'm in the arms of Jesus, and He sings me lullabies.</em></div>
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<em>Please try not to question God, don't think He is unkind.</em></div>
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<em>Don't think he sent me to you and then changed His mind.</em></div>
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<em>You see, I'm a special child, I am needed up above.</em></div>
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<em>I'm the special gift you gave Him, a product of your love.</em></div>
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<em>I'll always be there with you, so watch the sky at night.</em></div>
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<em>Look for the brightest star and know that's my halo's brilliant light.</em></div>
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<em>You'll see me in the morning frost that mists your window pane.</em></div>
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<em>That's me in the summer showers, I'll be dancing in the rain.</em></div>
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<em>When you feel a gentle breeze from a gentle wind that blows,</em></div>
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<em>Know that it's me planting a kiss there upon your nose.</em></div>
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<em>When you see a child playing and your heart feels a tug,</em></div>
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<em>Don't be sad, Mommy, that's just me giving your heart a hug.</em></div>
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<em>So, Daddy, don't look so sad and Momma, please don't cry.</em></div>
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<em>I'm in the arms of Jesus and he sings me lullabies.</em></div>
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<em>-Unknown </em></div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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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.</div>
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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?</div>
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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 <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Snuggle-Puppy-Boynton-Board-First/dp/B004S9GMX8/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355521252&sr=1-2&keywords=snuggle+puppy" target="_blank">"Snuggle Puppy"</a> 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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wherever-You-Are-Love-Will/dp/0312549660/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1355521188&sr=8-1&keywords=wherever+you+are+my+love+will+find+you" target="_blank">"Wherever You Are My Love Will Find You."</a> 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. </div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-10305306160530150482012-12-11T09:46:00.000-05:002012-12-11T11:17:37.574-05:00Answered Prayers.<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
I do not believe in coincidences. </div>
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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.</div>
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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.".</div>
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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. </div>
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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.</div>
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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! </div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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:</div>
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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.<br />
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Not normal 4 year old boy behavior. Not a coincidence.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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So that is why we weren't able to get the show together in the 9 months before now. It wasn't time.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-33900708313321214222012-12-04T20:48:00.001-05:002012-12-04T20:48:52.813-05:00Wince. 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.<div>
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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. </div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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 <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0108968/" target="_blank">Touched by an Angel</a> 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. </div>
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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.</div>
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Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-44914337652225659042012-11-27T12:35:00.000-05:002012-11-27T12:35:44.274-05:00Mommy's Little Turkey.<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
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.</div>
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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.)</div>
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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....</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-72659335326584864872012-11-19T11:38:00.000-05:002012-12-30T21:45:48.705-05:00Keeping Jack Alive.I was scrolling through Facebook late last week when I saw a someecard that brought me close to tears. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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But it hurts because I did not keep Jack alive.<br />
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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...<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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I held him for a long time after he left. I just could not let him go.<br />
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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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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<strong><sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">"</span></sup></strong>And we know that in all things God works for the good<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28145A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></sup> of those who love him, who have been called<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28145B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></sup> according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28)<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28145C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)"></sup>Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-86017005568122245642012-11-13T16:34:00.000-05:002012-11-13T17:30:34.054-05:00I'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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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So, here we are. <em> </em>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. <br />
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I just finished a wonderful book last night "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/One-Minute-After-You-Die/dp/0802463061" target="_blank">One Minute After You Die</a>" 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.<br />
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One specific passage in the book really helped explain what has happened within me. (I did not get permission to use this.)<br />
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<em>"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.</em><br />
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<em>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.</em><br />
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<em>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."</em><br />
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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!<br />
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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."<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-78297813013889210412012-11-08T16:27:00.000-05:002012-11-08T16:27:31.448-05:00My 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.)<br />
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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.Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-52505448085336056992012-11-05T11:32:00.001-05:002012-11-05T11:32:49.398-05:00Mornings.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. <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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!<br />
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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. <br />
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And then I drove past the cemetery where Jack's grave is.<br />
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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.<br />
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I tried going there once so far. It was too awful. I left in under a minute.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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?<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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What a perfectly timed blessing. <br />
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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.<br />
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I cannot wait to dive into this book today during my lunch break.<br />
<br />
I have heard that there are no such things as coincidences, they are just God's way of remaining anonymous....I believe that. Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-2736741550125592642012-11-03T21:34:00.000-04:002012-11-03T21:34:20.958-04:00He is soooooo happy in heaven!Tonight I cried at a Longhorn Steakhouse.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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." <br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9100092460121136855.post-77662466873944305542012-11-02T11:00:00.003-04:002012-11-05T12:35:03.159-05:00For the Bible Tells Me So.<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong>Jesus loves Jack, </strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong>This I know.</strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong>For the Bible </strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong>Tells me so.</strong></em></div>
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<em><strong>Little ones to him belong.</strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong>They are weak and HE is strong!</strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong>Yes, Jesus loves Jack,</strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong>Yes, Jesus loves Jack.</strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong>Yes, Jesus loves Jack. </strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong>The Bible tells us so!</strong></em></div>
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
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<strong>God is either everything or He is nothing.</strong><br />
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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.<br />
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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 <strong>and</strong> 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.<br />
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And most importantly, I believe that because of God's great love for me, and because Jesus Christ died for my sins, <strong>I will hold Jack in my arms again one day in HEAVEN!</strong> 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.<br />
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So, this is my foundation. This is how I will walk though this life without Jack. <br />
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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.<br />
<br />Jack's Mommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07529841820761777556noreply@blogger.com2