Beautiful Things

Can God create something beautiful in me? Can he use all of this PAIN? Can He take all of this hurt and turn it into beauty? Can He take this chaos stirring inside of me and transform it into meaning?

The pain is still so strong.  Somedays it feels even stronger than it did in the beginning.  Surviving the death of a child doesn't just mean being able to live through that one day when he died.  It means being able to live everyday after that.  And the next day and the next day and the next day.    All of this pain.  Will I ever find my way again?


I want to see Beautiful Things again.  I want God to make Beautiful Things out of me.  Maybe He already is...He must be. How else can explain how I am actually still breathing?   Is He making me new?  At the moment I don't feel new.  I feel old and tired and ugly and lonely.  I can't imagine living the rest of my life in this condition. 


I don't want my life to be defined as a mother who lost her baby.  A mother who is so sad she just couldn't go on.  I  need hope to bloom in me today. I need life to spring up from my painful heart. Seth means so much more to me than the pain that consumes me. He is beautiful to me.


I want to find my way.  I want my way to be filled with Beautiful Things.

Thanks to Hope at Hope in Bloom and Jayne for introducing this song to me.  It is giving me new hope today.  Please Dear God continue to  make "Beautiful Things" out of us.

He Said No

There is this ONE moment that my mind plays over and over and over.  I can remember Seth making this quivering, shaking feeling. It was like hiccups exaggerated.   It was at night.  I was laying on my right side.  I had my hands on my belly.  I remember my thoughts.  I remember I thought it was different that he was moving in such a strange way.  I wondered for a second if there maybe something wrong with him when he was born.  I told myself I would be so glad when he was born so I wouldn't have to worry anymore.  He settled down.  I went to sleep. I went to sleep as if nothing was wrong.  I didn't know he would die.

I never ever thought he would die.

This moment is huge in my mind.  I would swear that it lasted 30 minutes.  The reality is that it probably only lasted 30 seconds.  But that is the 30 seconds I want back. 

If I could only go back to that moment I would QUICKLY get up out of my bed.  I would have rushed to the hospital. I would  have shouted and screamed for the doctors to hurry up and get Seth out of my body.  Please cut open my body and save my little boy.  I want him to be born--ALIVE! 

I am shaking now.  I am crying, sobbing uncontrollably.   I can't even breathe as I remember it over and over and over again.  I am so ashamed that I let my son down.  I am angry with myself that I didn't do something, anything to save him. 

I feel like I am bargaining with God. Please God let me go back to that moment.  I would make the right decision.  Please dear God, I will give anything for that moment.  I would change it all and I would make sure Seth was alive.  God I would do anything....Please God go back and take me and not him.  If I had known he was going to die I would have prayed and begged God to let him live.  I trying praying it now.  It is too late.

I hold in this pain.  It smothers me.  I decide I can't bear it anymore.  I share with my husband and my friend.  I cry out to them.

"I should have gotten out bed and saved him!  I didn't save him!  Why didn't I do something?"

 I did nothing. I just went to sleep.  I didn't do anything to change it. I didn't know.
 
They try and comfort me.  They tell me it isn't true. They remind me that I  did the best I could. My husband is convinced that it wouldn't have mattered.  He says even the doctor's ( the experts) aren't exactly sure what happened to Seth.  How was I to know more than the "experts".

I pray.  I am so broken.  I can't live with this pain, this memory.  I believe the Lord heard me and this is what he said......

"I still would have said No."

I stop and listen to what God has just said.  He said no.  He  did not give me the why of it all.  He just said no.

Now I have a choice in this grief.  Do I accept it?  I want to.  I want to believe Seth's death was beyond my control.  I am not there yet.  But one day I will believe it. Today I am still struggling....today I still believe I am responsible for his death.  Today I still want to blame myself.    God wants me to let go.  Even if I was able to go back and try it again God told me He still would have said no.   I don't understand why God didn't change things for Seth but He does. I have to believe His ways are better than my ways.  I will someday.  I know when I reach acceptance this will bring me peace.  "I still would have said No."

Letters to Heaven

Dear Seth,

If I could write a letter to heaven I would tell you that I love you.  I can't believe you are turning 2 months old.  I wish it hadn't been so long since I held you. Mommy misses you so much.  I still cry everyday.  But I am also trying to laugh again too.  It makes me wonder what your laugh would sound like.  You should be smiling big and trying to laugh by now.

You would be almost out of the newborn phase. The newborn phase always goes so fast.  I wish I hadn't missed it.  You would be outgrowing your itty baby clothes.  I wish I had some new pictures of you to see how much you have grown.  I wonder who you look like.  I think I see your face sometimes when I look at Lydia and Adam. 

I am daydreaming about what you would be doing today.  Maybe you would be holding your head up well.  I am sure would have gotten so strong by now.  I would be laying you on your belly for some tummy time.  I would be telling Caleb to be gentle with you.  He would probably be trying to pick you up.  Lydia would be asking to hold you all the time.  She still talks about how she wanted to hold you and change your diaper.  Ben says he wishes he could have played with you. 

If I could write a letter to heaven I would want to know.  Do you grow in heaven? Or will you always stay small just like I remember you so I can cradle you in my arms forever when we see each other again?  Does Jesus hold you?  Does my Grandma hold you?  Have you met your Grandma Kathy?  I can almost imagine her holding you.  I wonder if she was surprised to see you.  You look like your daddy so I know she would have known you right away.   

I miss you.  I miss you.  I miss you.  It is such a beautiful day today.  I wish I could take you for a walk.  Just you and me.  Well...and your brothers and sisters.  You will always be their baby brother.  You will always be my precious son.  I love you. 

Love,
Mommy

Warped Sense of Humor

Grief takes everything as you know it and jumbles it all up.  It makes me cry all the time.  It makes my memory feel out of place.  It makes time stand still for me yet in reality it is actually quickly flying by.  I have to grasp at a new unfamiliar to tread through this uncharted journey of grief. And I have even had to search hard in strange warped places to find laughter again.

I think it is funny that there could be an imaginary world where everyone is a pony, they all eat rainbows, and poop butterflies. I don't know why but it just cracks me up.

I like rerun episodes of "The Big Bang Theory" I know not the most wholesome show but it makes me laugh.  So if nerdy humor is what it takes to make me laugh then I must buy it.  So buy it I did.  The entire 1st season.

I find myself making strange jokes to make light of my pain.  Like telling my friends to watch out because I am going to buy me a baby doll and a rocking chair.  That I plan to sit and rock my baby doll like a crazy lady who lost a baby. Don't worry I didn't buy a baby doll, at least not yet.  Told you my humor is a bit warped.

I refer to myself as a  "dead baby mama."   I know it is a horrible, awful phrase.  But I laugh when I say it. I dread the sight of new babies and pregnant bellies. These very things use to make me smile. Now they just bring me pain...lots of it.    I joke about being a "dead baby mama" just to get through the pain it stirs in my heart at the sight of them.

I like to remember famous sayings my children have given me through the years.  Like the time Ben said "Mom my butt just blew out." when he was telling me he passed gas.  When Natalie said "Stop the truck!"  when her seat belt wasn't buckled.  Or how Lydia referred to her belly button as her "belly butt".  Or how Adam told me he was going to his "grandson" aka graduation last week.  And probably some other incredibly funny sayings they have blessed me with that I can't remember at the moment.  I love that children can say anything odd and it becomes funny and we don't ask them to explain why it is funny.  It just is!

If you don't understand my new warped sense of HUMOR I am glad.  It means you have never felt the breath taking pain I am trying to survive.  I am in survival mode.  I need to laugh to even breathe some days.  So humor me!  Laugh with me even if my jokes aren't funny.  Because grief really isn't funny.  But I can't go on being just sad all the time. 

They All Eat Rainbows

In my world...

Everyone is a Pony.

They all eat Rainbows.

And poop Butterflies.

I saw this clip from Horton Hears a Who on another baby loss mama blog (thanks Kristin).   The clip really tickled me.  In fact, it made me laugh so hard I couldn't stop laughing.  I laughed until I started to cry again.  That is another interesting thing I have learned about grief.  You can cry and you can laugh.  Both helps to release the pain just the same.

Last Saturday night I got to go with my kids and my husband for my Mother's Day out with them.  We ate pizza.  We laughed.  We played putt putt golf.  We laughed.  We hit baseballs.  We had a fun time.

I stopped in the moment and just looked at the faces of my children. I remembered what it felt like to be their mom. To look at their faces and enjoy their silliness. To laugh with them.  To love them.  The grief has tried to rob me of this but I won't let it. 

I was having such a nice time that I wanted to make a memory in my mind.  I closed my eyes.  I could hear the frogs croaking.  I could hear the water fall.  I could feel the coolness of the evening.  I could hear my children laughing. 

I was having a They all eat Rainbows kinda moment.  So guess what we did next?

We ate Rainbows. 

Rainbow Sno Cones

Lydia summed up my night.  "I like rainbows" she said.  I do too Lydia.  I do too!

WAIT!

At night when it is dark.  When the house is quiet.   That is when I miss him the most.   I remember being pregnant. I held him close.  I was anxiously awaiting for him to be born.  I never imagined he would not come.

Out of habit I still reach down to touch my stomach.  I expect to feel him there.   But once my hands caress the emptiness of my womb I remember.  I remember he isn't there.  I remember he is gone.  I remember it all.  I remember the numbness when they told me he was gone.  I remember giving birth to a quiet baby boy.  I felt his body leave mine.  I remember closing my eyes so I wouldn't have to watch.  I didn't see it happen.  Yet, now I watch it in my mind play again and again.

I see it in my mind again.  I cry.  I sob.  My body shakes.  I cannot believe this is real.  I want to scream...

TAKE ME BACK TO WHEN HE WAS OK. 

I want to do this over again.  I want him to be born alive.  I want to be nursing him right now in the night instead of typing a stupid blog.  I can't believe this actual happened to me.  My body foolishly went along.  It had no choice.  I was in labor.  It was time for his birth. 

BIRTH? 

How can that be?  Didn't they just say that he passed away.  How do you have death then birth?  It doesn't make any sense to me.  Why did my body go along with it?  Why didn't I just refuse to give birth that day?  My body starts to shake.  I remember.  My mind tries to make sense of the memory. There must be some mistake my heart shouts.  Surely, it is not possible that this happened. 

TELL ME THIS DID NOT HAPPEN TO ME!  MAKE IT STOP!

I was pregnant.  I carried my baby for nine months.  I caressed his body inside of mine.  I listened to his heartbeat over and over and over again.  I felt him move.  I felt him kick.  I felt him hiccup.  I felt him quiver and shake. 

WAIT!

 There it is...what did I say?  I felt him quiver and shake.  Wait!  Is that ok for him to quiver and shake?  I remember touching my belly and finding it strange.  I will be so glad when his born. I don't want to worry anymore. 

WAIT!

I said he went quiver and shake.  When did he do that again?  I can't remember when it happened.  Was it more than once?  Why didn't I tell someone you ask?  What was there to tell?  I had been pregnant 5 other times.   I knew what I was doing...I was letting my body do what it knew to do...grow a baby.  I was expecting my mind to cooperate.  Don't ask too many questions. Don't worry about every little movement.  This must just be normal for this baby. 

WAIT!

When was that I felt him quiver and shake?  Was it moments before he died or the week before when it happened?  Why doesn't the memory come to me now?  My memory feels all jumbled and forgotten.  It is like I am placing it all out of place. I need to know.  I need to know all those last movements.  I need something to make sense.  Was he moving or was he not?

WAIT!

Now I know when I felt him move.  I am sure of it.  It was on Friday.  He was moving all around. All the movements were just right, right?  Now I am not sure.  Was that movement normal or was it the beginning of what was to become the end? 

WAIT!

When was the last time I felt him move?  Friday can't be right.  Was it the night before his birth?  I was going to sleep right?  I pushed and pushed and he moved a bit. More of a movement out of annoyment, but he moved nonetheless.  I fell asleep. I woke in the night.  Was he moving then?  I don't know.  Why don't I know?  Why can't I remember if he moved that night or not? 

WAIT!

Oh now I remember the distraction.  It was called labor.  Labor pains!   I was feeling pain. Labor got my attention.  The contractions were strong.  Why were the contractions so loud?  Now I can't remember if he was moving.  That seems like a stupid excuse.  I still remember feeling Caleb move while I was in labor.  Was he moving or not?  When did I last feel him move?

WAIT!

I can't watch this anymore.  I can't breath.  I literally feel like my heart is being ripped from my body.  Please don't touch me.  Make it STOP!  Can't you see what just happened to me?  I was in labor.  I was giving birth. 

BUT WAIT!

My baby is already dead.  Death before birth.  It just doesn't make any sense.  Oh, it can't be. Please tell me this did not happen to me.

Mother's Day

It is Mother's Day!  I am happy.  I am sad.  Here is how I will make this important day special to me. 

I had "Muffins with Mom" with my daughter Lydia!  I received a picture of Lydia.  It was beautiful.  She made me a picture frame and planted me a flower.  This made me happy.

I remembered that all I have of Seth is pictures.  This made me sad.

Adam made me a card and planted me a flower.  The card included a bag of tea and a little poem.  This made me happy.

I remembered all the cards I received after Seth was born.  The cards were sent to me because my baby died. This made me sad.

I arrived home to find flowers on my porch.  The vase contained 6 roses.  There were 4 red roses for my boys and 2 white roses for my girls.  The card said "Happy Mother's Day!  We Love You!  Natalie, Benjamin, Lydia, Adam, Caleb, and Seth"  This made me happy!

I thought about how this Mother's Day I was to be holding 6 children.  One of them is missing.  This made me sad.

Caleb gave me a hug.  He told me he loved me. Then he brought me two slim jims and said "One for you and One for me ok?"   This made me happy.

I realized I will never hear Seth say these words.  This made me sad.

Natalie made me chocolate covered strawberries.  This made me happy.

I rememeberd the tears that fell down Natalie's face when we were told that Seth's heart had stopped beating.  This made me sad.

Ben made me a Mother's Day card.  He wrote the words "I love you"  He also wrote that he thinks I am a cool mom because I let him play with his friends.   This made me happy. 

I remembered that I won't get to watch Seth play with his brothers.  This made me sad. 

I  got a card in the mail this week from the hospital where I delivered Seth.  Inside was a beautiful poem and a mom ring.  This made me cry.  Yet, it made me happy.

I decided it is ok to be both happy and sad on this my first Mother's Day after loosing Seth.  I can have joy today even though I also feel pain. 

This is my Mother's Day.   I am going to laugh when I see my children do something funny.  I am going to smile at their silly ways.  I am going to be thankful on this day when I still have to get them a cup of milk instead of taking the day off.  I will cry today. I love all of my children deeply. Today I am a mother who is celebrating Mother's Day as a mom who knows both the joy and the pain.  These are the feelings I signed up for when I chose to become a mom.  I will never regret being a MOM!

And Mom this day is about you too! I know it has been so hard on you to watch me suffer such pain.  I know what it is like to so desperately want to make everything ok for your child and you just can't.  I get it!  I really do.  Thanks for always loving me.  I love you too!

Guilty as Charged

My thoughts and feelings have caught me a little off guard this week. 

I have had some wonderful women send me beautiful messages of love this week.  They tell me that I am special to them.  They say they admire me.  I don't get it.  I don't feel worthy of this kind of love.  I feel like I don't deserve it.

WORTHLESS

 I feel ashamed that my baby died. I feel guilty that I didn't do something, anything to keep Seth alive. Why didn't I go to the hospital sooner? Why didn't I recongnize something was wrong?  Why wasn't I paying attention to him?  I play the last week of his life in my mind over and over and over.  I fail again and again.  I didn't do anything that could have saved him. 

SHAME

I must be a horrible mom.  I let my baby die. I am guilty as charged!   It hurts.  I have weird thoughts about how it would be better not to be alive.  Living with all of this pain doesn't feel worth it.  I don't feel worth it.

GUILT

I share these thoughts with my counselor. I am crying.  She starts to cry.  She tells me to LISTEN to her.  "Everything you just described is all part of the "GUILT" cycle of grief.  And NONE of it is true." 

I start to cry more.

She held her hand out in a fist while using the other to circle around it and said. 

"God will not tell you "why" to heal you. He will heal you by surrounding you with His love and His holiness. He is holding your pain in the palm of His hand. He will not let you get lost in your grief."

Doesn't it sound like God put the very words in her mouth?  I know He did.

I am ok.  I am making progress through the stages of grief.  It isn't supposed to be pretty.And the "guilt" phase of grief is especially ugly.  But I will believe in God's promise.  He will bind up my broken heart.  Someday I will wear a crown of beauty.  I will have joy.  I will wear a garmet of praise.

Provide for those who grieve

to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor.

Isaiah 61:3

Painting Bird Houses

 Holding a baby.

Changing a baby. 

Bathing a baby. 

Patting a baby.

My hands should be busy doing all things baby.  Yet my hands are reaching for something to do.

Kneading dough.

Typing a blog.

Planting flowers.

Painting bird houses.

I hate that my hands have so much time for crafts and such.  But I am thankful for friends who are helping me find something to do with my hands.

This week I had a chance to see some friends at my Just Among Moms group.  It felt anything but normal, but I am glad I chose to attend.  We painted bird houses.  We painted in every shade of pink.  We added flowers, polka dots, and butterflies.  We kept the conversation simple. 

It reminded anyone can paint a bird house. And it helped keep my hands busy.  I realized as I looked  that no two bird houses looked exactly the same.  Yet they were all beautiful.  My bird house did not look exactly like I thought it was going to look.  Yet it was still beautiful all the same.   It just looked a little differently than I had planned.

 I would rather my hands be doing all things baby.  But that is not to be.


So I will keep painting my bird house.  I am going to paint it every shade of pink.  I may have to stop and let it dry awhile.  I will stand back and take a look.  It looks a little different now. It doesn't look like how I planned.  But it shows signs of everything beautiful.

How Many Children Do You Have?

I have six children.  It should be an easy question to answer.  But when I hear this question now it brings me anxiety.  This question is usally followed by "Oh, how old are they?"  And there it is... my answer will openly display the pain in my heart.  It will create an awkward moment in the conversation.

This week I was at a doctor's appointment with Lydia.  The doctor was making small talk with me.  "So Lydia is 6.  How old is that little guy (pointing to Caleb)?" " Oh he is 3," I said.  "And I have other children," I say proudly.  He asks some more.  "How old are they?"  I start at the top. "My oldest is 16, then 8, then 6, then 5, and 3"....then I paused.  "And actually six weeks ago I had a baby boy who passed away."  I didn't wait for the awkwardness.  "It just didn't feel right leaving him out"  I added.  He asked me if there was anything wrong with him?  It was fair question.  He knew all about my daughter Lydia and her medical issues.  I said no.  He was quiet then commented that it is hard to understand things that happen like that but we just have to rely on our faith.  I appreciated his response it didn't make me feel weird. 

Sometimes like the day I just mentioned I will be out and about and only have a few of my children.  At these times I may only look like a mother of 2 or 3.  But it doesn't change the fact that I have 6 children just because you can't see them all.  If you see me out and just assume I only have 2 or 3 so be it.  But if you ask me "How many children do you have?"  Expect my answer....I have 6 children!  If you decide to ask the next question..."oh how old are they?"  You may hear me say..."My oldest is 16. She likes to drive and wants her license with her own car.    I have a son who is 8. He likes baseball and wants a to hit a homerun.  I have a daughter who is 6.   She likes animals and would really like a bunny. I have a son who is 5.  He really likes brocolli and would like to ride his bike all day long.   I have a son who is 3.  He likes the smurfs and really likes playing with his brothers.    And I have a baby boy who would be almost 2 months old. He likes Jesus and lives in heaven." 

I have six children. Do you hear me? Let me tell you that I have six children. Don't make me worry about how awkward or weird it makes you feel. I live with the painful reality everyday that only five of my children are in my home. But I am a mother to six children.  I have six children who I have loved and carried in my womb. Don't make me feel ashamed for mentioning all six of them. They are important to me. Don't make me forget about the one who isn't in my arms.

Today is International Bereaved Mother's Day.  A day set aside to honor the mothers and the babies they have lost.  Don't expect us to forget any of our children.  Listen to your friend or your sister or some lady you meet in the grocery store when they tell you about the little one they can't hold in their arms.  And feel blessed that she felt comfortable enough to share her amazing heart with you.    She is a beautiful mother.

Wearing These Shoes

http://www.shoes.com/ProductImages/shoes_iaec1307140.jpg

I went shoe shopping this week. I needed a new pair of summer shoes that would look cute with capris.  I left the house in capris so I borrowed a pair of flip flops from Natalie. (And just for those of us who are old enough...flips flops aka thongs!!!)  They were really pretty.  They were brown and adorned with beads.  But they hurt my feet like crazy.

Now I find myself at Wal-Mart shoe section.  Yeah I go all out when I go shoe shopping only the finest shoe stores will do for me.  <Enter your smile here>.   I start trying on shoes and place one in the cart.  And another.  Yet another.

Retail therapy is getting expensive I may need to find another type of therapy. 

I really wanted to take off  the shoes I had worn into the store.  My feet hurt.  And of course Caleb had to go to the potty!  I was going to have to walk to the other side of the store.  My friend and I joked.  I should just put on the new shoes, wear them in the store, and then pay on my way out.  But since I was heading to the bathroom with my 3 year old, I decided against the idea. Otherwise, I would be blogging here about being arrested for shoplifting!  Hmm. It would make for a good blog post. Oh...back to my thoughts.

My feet hurt but I managed to walk Caleb to the bathroom and back.  I bought the 1, 2, 3, yes 4 pairs of shoes and made it back to the car.  Actually pairs 1 and 2 were the same shoe in different sizes.  I just couldn't tell which one would fit the best.  Natalie convinced me should would wear the smaller size if it didn't fit me.  I got to the car, threw off the flip flops aka thongs :-)  I was wearing the new white lacy shoes in the smaller size.  Cute.  But within a few steps of walking my feet hurt again. I put some band-aids on my feet.  I tried them on again.  Nope..they still hurt.  I took them off and put on the larger size.  Yes, maybe these fit the best.  I wore them the rest of the day, but I didn't forget the pain the shoes had caused me earlier in the day. 

And then I found this poem online.  I am not sure who wrote it...I would really like to give her credit and thank her for it.  Just like I wished I could take off the shoes I wore into Wal-Mart that hurt my feet, I wish I could take off these shoes that cause my heart such pain.  I wish I was not walking around in life as a mother who has lost a child. 

THESE SHOES

I wear a pair of shoes
They are ugly shoes
Uncomfortable shoes
I hate my shoes

Each day I wear them and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step
Yet, I continue to wear them

I get funny looks wearing these shoes
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs

They never talk about my shoes
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.

I now realize I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt

No woman deserves to wear these shoes
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

Spending the Day with a Friend

I actually think I had a normal day today. I have had several normal moments during some days. But most days have still been so filled with grief that they overwhelmed the normal. Today…all day I really think it was a normal day. I was invited to spend the day with a friend.

It was a busy day. First it was shopping at Wal-Mart. Retail therapy is still tempting. Today I bought new shoes…three pairs to be exact. For lunch we had Mexican nachos supreme. Yum! On the way home to her house we found a box turtle for our boys. I even picked up the creature off the road. Amazing. I so enjoyed the look of excitement on their face when we present them with their new turtle friend. We spent the afternoon making cinnamon rolls from scratch. We kneaded the dough together and just chatted. Our girls talked with us too. It was good conversation. We topped off the day with a nail treatment. My beautiful teenage daughter painted my fingernails and toenails. They look fabulous.

Tonight we were at the ballpark to watch Ben play baseball. His team lost. But Ben made a hit that landed him on second. He hit a single that was also a RBI. He even got 2 outs. I actually watched and enjoyed the game. I even talked with the moms. This was a first. The past few weeks I haven’t been very sociable. I haven’t had the energy. And face it people don’t always want to talk about sad things.

I came home, got the kids to bed. And I am having a normal quiet moment alone.
 
Yes, Seth has been on my mind today. I talked about him with my friend. But we also talked about our other children. I saw a baby at Wal-Mart and felt a tug at my heart. I even moaned out loud as they walked by me. And there was a little baby at the baseball game. I watched as the mom held her little one in her arms. She was smiling at her baby and looking in his eyes. It made me sad. I closed my eyes and wished Seth was with me. I took a moment to wonder and imagine what it would be like holding him while I watched his big brother play the game.

As I am sitting alone I feel this fainting pang in my heart. I miss my baby. I wish I was holding him tonight. I made it through the day. It was a normal day--at least a new normal day. Today was what it feels like to have a normal day while living with the pain..

Thank you friend for spending the day with me. It felt good to have some laughter and take a couple of carefree moments. I love my nails and my new shoes. For the first time in weeks I actually felt a little bit pretty.

Mowing the Grass

Today, I decided to mow the grass. Yes….you heard me I decided to mow the grass. Let’s see I haven’t mowed the grass for 8 years. I told my daughter. She laughed at me. But Natalie and Caleb quickly found a spot outside to watch me. I had an audience! I wasn’t sure if I could start the lawn mower.

I pulled the handle. Nothing. I pulled the handle again. Power! I am mowing the grass. Here I go. Yes Mr. Neighbor over there with your fancy John Deere riding mower looking at me. I have a push mower and with my weak arms I can push it. I have never been to lawn mower school. I am not sure how this should be done. But I like little squares. I start cutting in squares. I can see my accomplishment as I finish the squares. Oh, wait I missed a spot. Oh and one there. Forget the squares I will go whichever way I want. I am trying to live today. I can actually feel my heart beating. I am alive.

Sure, as I girl I am sure there are other more creative ways to get my heart pumping. Black Friday shopping does come to mind. Maybe online shopping where if you don’t hit the “buy it now” button quickly and head to paypal immediately the item will jump form your cart. Haven’t tried that? You really should some time. I promise your heart will be pounding. Maybe I should go to the spa. I may not get my heart racing but I certainly could work up a sweat in the sauna. And besides I could leave with really pretty toes.

No, today I am choosing to mow the lawn. I am desperate. My heart is racing not because the love of my life is going to be so thrilled. You better be honey!! But as I cut the grass I am trying another way to let go of this grief. I am trying to give it a trim anyway. I am really pushing this lawn mower hard so it will cut away what is on the inside. As I sweat I imagine my body riding of itself of uncried tears. I smell the sweat. It doesn’t smell like grief. The smell of grief is cruel. It smells so sweet…like the sweetness of newborn skin. You take just a small sniff and instead of joy it brings you to tears.

Look at the yard. It is starting to look better. I am on a mission. Come on lawn mower don’t fail me now. Please don’t run out of gas or fill up your bag thingy. I don’t really want to fill up the gas or empty the mulch. I just want to mow. I fill like I should name this new friend of mine….the lawnmower. Allison where are you when I need you girl? I need a girl’s name for this lawnmower. It has to be a girl. Why else would men agree to spend hours every summer mowing the grass. I am getting strange ideas like asking my husband to buy me a lawnmower and we can mow the grass together. Never mind, I can think of 150 other things I much rather he buy me….flowers and diamonds come to mind for starters. 

I am working on the next square. I am seeing progress. I hope I don’t run out of gas now. I want the lawn to look all neat. I want to be proud of my finished product . Vicki you are right. I was wrong. It is not just about the process. I do want to see the finished product. I wonder what I am going to look like when I get through this process of grief. I know I can never look the same again. I hope I am proud of the finished product. I hope my husband and children are proud too. I mow more fiercely. I push the lawnmower with more umph. I feel my hands starting to shake because my grip is so tight. I cut the grass with purpose. I am cutting away the pain.

Ok, you silly lawn mower. I accomplished it. I let go of some pain. I have cut the grass in the front yard. Now run out of gas. Please. RUN OUT OF GAS!!! I let go of the handle. The mower stops. It is quiet again. Natalie and Caleb cheer for me. I see she even posted cheers for me on FB. That is a teenager’s way of saying….“hey, you are a cool mom.” 

　
Am I a cool mom?  Are you laughing with me now?  I am intending for this post to be a little bit funny. I feel so incredibly sad on the inside. I miss Seth so much. I try sharing this but I get looks of concern and sounds of sympathy. Don’t get me wrong I appreciate them. I really do. But I have in my crazy mind that maybe just maybe if I can really get you laughing….I mean laughing hard from deep down inside you then you will get it. You will get an idea of just how deep this pain is….how hard it hurts.  And if I made you chuckle even a little let me know. I need to hear from people right now. I need to be reminded over and over again that I will survive. It is ok if you don’t know how to tell me to do it. Just tell me I will survive. Believe it with me.

　

 

Dragonfly

“No eye has seen,

no ear has heard,

no mind has conceived

what God has prepared

for those who love him”

I Corithians 2:9

I have been thinking about heaven.  I can't help myself.  It is Seth's home now.  The unknown of heaven reminds much of the unknown during pregnancy. You can't see your baby inside the womb. Sure maybe a little bit by ultrasound, but that image is even blurred. So much is still left to the imagination of just what your little one will look like. But you just know that the baby growing inside of you is Wonderful. Amazing. Precious. I can't see heaven. I can try and imagine what heaven is like but with my human mind that image is blurred as well. But I do believe that heaven is Wondeful, Amazing, Precious, and so much more. 

I have been thinking about the Dragonfly we have placed at Seth's grave.  We also have one at home so when we see it we can think of Seth.  It is actually a little light that at dark changes to different colors, red...blue...green...orange...and back again.  The kids really enjoy it.  I have to say I do too. 

I just found a story about a Dragonfly that I want to read to the kids.  I can't help but wonder could God create such an unique creature as a beetle aka a dragonfly to let our imaginations run wild with what He has in store for us in Heaven.  He knows our human minds could never possibly grasp it, even picture it really.  Could He use the transformation of a beetle to a dragonfly or a caterpillar to a butterfly to help us look forward to what awaits us in heaven?

I need to let my imagination about heaven run wild today. 

 Dragonfly

Once, in a little pond, in the muddy water under the lily pads, there lived a little water beetle in a community of water beetles. They lived a simple and comfortable life in the pond with few disturbances and interruptions. Once in a while, sadness would come to the community when one of their fellow beetles would climb the stem of a lily pad and would never be seen again. They knew when this happened; their friend was dead, gone forever.


Then, one day, one little water beetle felt an irresistible urge to climb up that stem. However, he was determined that he would not leave forever. He would come back and tell his friends what he had found at the top. When he reached the top and climbed out of the water onto the surface of the lily pad, he was so tired, and the sun felt so warm, that he decided he must take a nap. As he slept, his body changed and when he woke up, he had turned into a beautiful blue-tailed dragonfly with broad wings and a slender body designed for flying.


So, fly he did! And, as he soared he saw the beauty of a whole new world and a far superior way of life to what he had never known existed. Then he remembered his beetle friends and how they were thinking by now he was dead. He wanted to go back to tell them, and explain to them that he was now more alive than he had ever been before. His life had been fulfilled rather than ended. But, his new body would not go down into the water. He could not get back to tell his friends the good news. Then he understood that their time would come, when they, too, would know what he now knew. So, he raised his wings and flew off into his joyous new life!