Secret Garden - September Meeting

This month, for the Secret Garden Meeting, we are focusing on what has helped us through the loss of our babies. To participate you can go to The Secret Garden Meeting website or visit to read what has helped others. This group meets once a month to offer comfort, support and love in a safe environment.

For me, it has been a handful of things. Mostly it has been the sufficient grace of God. There are times, no doubt, when it seems like I am walking alone, but He always has a way of showing me just how much He cares and knows how much I hurt daily. He has filled this rough path with promises of hope and comfort through His Word.

Another thing God has given me is the commitment of my husband's support through this time. Given, men just grieve differently (topic for another day) but he is just there for me. When I am down, he likes to make me smile and picture Jenna just having a time of her life. Other times, like lately, he will be sad with me. I like that.

Blogging and connecting with other women through this blog community has helped me on so many levels. It has shown me that there is a world of women hurting and shattered over the loss of their child(ren). It takes my mind off of me. This journaling has also been therapuetic to allow me to write my heart out.  

Talking about her is the best thing on planet Earth! The people IRL who will actually listen to me talk about her without shriveling up in fear are far and few between, but God has been good to put a few people out there. I love talking about Jenna. She is my world, even now. I wish I could tell the world how we should be allowed to talk about our babies who left this earth too soon. Making us feel uncomfortable or avoiding the subject only adds to the loss we are enduring, like pushing her into nonexistence. It hurts so much. So here is my safe place. The community who will listen and understand. The women who yearn to share their stories, memories and heartbreak. I am so thankful for this blogging community.


Honestly, there are few things I like doing now because social activities are still out of the comfort zone for me. I feel like a hermit, but that's just how life is right now. Home is a safe place - far from newborns, pregnant women, careless words, careless people... so I guess in a way you can say being home has been a help to me. I have never been a homebody until now. I used to be the one who liked to always be on the go and run around even if it meant just window-shopping or running errands. Strange how life changes.

Nothing

Dear Jenna,

What I wouldn't do to hold you again

To look on your sweet face

The very one who completed my world

for 13 days

What I wouldn't do to be your mommy again

To be by your side,

Even if meant there in that cold room

With doctors and their fancy words

We knew nothing about

What I wouldn't do to watch you move

and try to open your eyes

Wondering at the world as I wondered

at the color of your eyes

What I wouldn't do to watch Daddy stare at you

So proud of his firstborn daughter

It was new, so new

And perfect

What I wouldn't do to let you know I love you

To explain the very meaning of this hurt

Because I loved and love you

Deeply

What I wouldn't do to empty myself of this life

That constantly throws

Reminders at me

That once upon a time I was a mother...

What I wouldn't do to divorce myself from the grave

That knows my daughter all to well

And mocks me the times that I visit you

As if victory ended that day

What I wouldn't do to make the world see

that people hurt everyday

that babies don't always come home

And that you existed

What I wouldn't do to hold your hand again

The memory of that perfect feeling

Pierces me and it hurts

To remember how happy you made me

What I wouldn't do to make myself just see

That you really are alright

That Heaven is beyond what this world could ever give you

And you still know me as your mommy.

I love you, my precious Princess Jenna Belle

New Embrace

I doubt it is anything new, but since Jenna passed, its like the amount of sick children and infant loss has magnified. There was a time I really did not know babies died. It was a long time ago, but I was just that dumb. There was a time I thought only drugs and accidents could harm a pregnancy, and things like smoking or alcohol. I had no idea that you could do everything right and still bury your newborn. But today, it's just not about me. I have had a heavy heart for some time. And it is mostly about Jenna, but it also aches because there are so many children who are still fighting for their life. Their parents are daily making hard decisions that involve life and death, decisions that no parent should have to face.

I have wrapped my mind around this thing and choose to embrace the fact that I can relate to this heartache that I used to know nothing about. I am not the least bit happy that this is what life has dealt me, but it is the way it is. I choose to embrace it, on some level. There are days that it is hard and I feel like I am embracing a cactus, and at the end of the day I have scars all over my body. But then there are days that I feel like Jenna did not die in vain if I get to help somebody else. I can never justify her death, only attempt to make it count.

I wish you would pray for Lydia Eileen. She is in the NICU and is having breathing problems and seizures. The hospital, last I read on her blog, is preparing her parents to take her home. There is still some uncertainty. I hope you can visit her blog and offer some encouragement.

http://www.lydiaeileen.blogspot.com/

Ridiculous Request

I have kind of an embarrassing question to ask about this blog thing...
My background shows up just fine on my small laptop screen, but on larger computer monitors, it doubles. Does anyone happen to know what dimensions the photo needs to be?...

The dimensions I have researched and applied are 1450x1100... 14.5 inches x 11.00 inches

It is probably something so simple, but at this point I am desperate!

Thanks so much

Glass House

This glass house might break; don't ask me how I'm doing

I might really tell you how much I'm really hurting

You say you miss the old me but she is gone and buried

I'm learning to find the peace of mind where this glass house can feel safe again

The place that used to stand so strong is now moved with the slightest wind

Ever mindful of the pain that endlessly wounds and weakens the foundation

This glass house is transparent and clear, unable to hide

the fragments left over and the emptiness inside

The warmth and security left when the veil fell down that day

I have no strength to mask the heartache that is on display

While I don't want to share my grief with all

It's impossible to contain the pain, the guilt, the loss

So I am destined to identify with this fragile state of mind

A glass house in essence, but fragile in real life

Don't expect me to take the steps you think I should be taking

I'm fragile and I could break if I rush because you make me

The heart that once knew perfection is buried, you see

And this glass house can't help but show this burden of grief I carry.

Franchesca Cox

In Jenna's Name

In honor of my sweet Jenna's life, I have started creating Hope Collages for babylost mamas. It seems there are never enough ways to memorialize their lives.

I can do this for children of all ages, up to 18 years old. If you have lost or know someone that has lost a child due to miscarriage, neonatal loss, illness, tragedy, or anything really, I would be honored to create one for them. I would like to be able to do this for as long as I can.

There are a lifetime of words that will never be spoken because we were asked to say goodbye too soon. This is a way to piece all those words together that so often remind us of our angels. I do this free of charge and the turnaround time is 5-7 days.

Please visit Abiding Hope Collages at: www.hopecollage.org if you are interested.

Here are some examples of the hope collages...

Friendship Award @ Four Months

Thank you, Kristy for passing this onto me. It means a lot. It came on one of those anniversaries we wished we'd never have known. Jenna has been gone four months and it has been a struggle to breathe today. My dear friend, Keana sent me a heavensent email and Kristy from I Love You to the Moon and Back! gave me this award. I am so blessed to be in the midst of good and godly support. It is so hard but God just keeps showing me how He really does care.

Today I have been trying to focus on Jenna's life and not her death. It has been one of those days where I am losing the battle with my will. It has been difficult for me to separate the two but I have decided she would want me to be happy and live again. Of course it is not going to just happen in an instant but eventually I want to be where the pain is not the definition of my life and where joy is real again. I want to get there for her.

I would like to pass this Friendship Award onto six more people. I am sorry if you have already gotten this...

"This award is bestowed on to blogs that are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to six bloggers who must choose six more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."

1. Rachel @ Waiting for Morning

2. Caroline @ the Croley Gang

3. Holly @ Caring for Carleigh

4. Danielle @ Letting Go and Letting God

5. Lauren @ Walking by Faith

6. Once A Mother

Just What I Needed

Today I was having a day that started ok but quickly spiraled downward. When I checked the mail, I found this in the mailbox and it made me cry more, but it was just what I needed. Thank you, Deborah.
In case you don't know, Deborah sends babylost mamas these beautiful handkerchiefs from her blog For Your Tears.

Aside from this gift being the consolation I needed, it was also perfect. When Jenna died, we dressed her in a white dress with lavender embroidery at the top. I will always associate the color lavender with her death. The night she was born and put in the NICU, the nurse put a bright red bow with polkadots on her sweet baby curls. But I wanted to keep that bow as a precious precious memory. So to match her dress, we put a white bow on her. Anyway, I just wanted to openly thank Deborah and share this bittersweet moment. God really does care about us.

I Heart Birdies

I am posting this in response to Danielle's post about what reminds us about our babies. Please visit Danielle's blog to partake in this post and/ or read other mamas' stories.

I have a lot of little reminders that follow me everywhere I go. There are times that it hurts like CRAZY and there are times that it brings me pure joy, because I have the privilege of being a mother. I will always be a mother, even if I never have another child. It does something for me that I can say that I have a daughter. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing I would like more than to just hold her again, but it was an honor to get to be by her side those 13 days and know that she knew me as her mother.

The biggest reminder for me are birds. Flying birds, sitting birds, cartoon birds...

When my husband told me years ago that he wanted to name our first girl Jenna, I liked the name, but I was not crazy about it. His little cousin is named Jenna and he just fell in love with the name. I agreed to it since it meant so much to him and I hadn't thought too much about baby names at all.

When we found out the baby I was carrying was a girl, there was no debate. We named her Jenna and scoured to the end of the earth for the perfect middle name. I would later find out that Jenna means "small bird".

How incredibly perfect for our 1 lb, 1 oz miracle of pure joy.

Ponies also remind me of my angel. Her grandfather promised her a pony when she turned five while she in the NICU. He really meant it too. He would have spoiled her rotten. =)

Thank you for reading about my Jenna

Picking up the Pieces and Healing Tears

I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but last night I felt so much better after I just let it all out. I waited until after I thought my husband was sleeping and I cried and cried and cried. I had a mountain of grief sitting on my chest and a million different emotions that can hardly be handled that were desperate for some relief. So I cried and it HELPED.

Nothing got solved, just released. Maybe that's what it was.

Aside from the million emotions, I didn't get a chance to blog away my heart. This added to the reality of facing my grief, which at times, is unbearable.

On a different note, I find it difficult to talk with people. Just simple conversation makes my brain crazy. It's not that I don't want to (or maybe I don't?) but it is so hard to FOCUS. I have never been more scatter-brained and that makes me crazier. I also find myself avoiding certain people because I don't want to talk about the frivolous things in life and they don't want to talk about my baby who died too soon. So I become a hermit who crawls out when I MUST be ok or when I finally reach a "safety zone".

On top of that, I haven't been able to go see her. Her marker is so pretty but its ugly too. It just urks me that she is in the ground. My brain knows she is in Heaven, but my heart can't get past her body being buried - the very one I felt kicking and moving inside, is buried. I can't write in words what that does to me. I hate it. I used to love going to see her and I wish I could see past the marker that so delicately marks her putrid grave. Why did I spend so much time trying to make it look so pretty??!! It is not going to matter! I thought it was the last thing I could do for her. Now it just keeps me away. I feel guilty, angry and disgusted that I can't make it better. It hurts so much to see her like that. I mean to go this Friday. She will have been gone four months. I want to go Friday, but it's going to be hard.

I thought about it like this.

In this house there is this beautiful, fragile yet perfect glass vase. And it sits in a place where it can display its beauty to everyone in the house, at all times. But one day it gets knocked over and it doesn't just break - it shatters throughout the entire house, in every corner and under every stool, table and furnishing. No matter where you walk in this house there are sharp remnants of this once-beautifully adorned glass vase. But the beauty is gone and all that's left is a mess and pain with every step you take. As I think about the glass pieces everywhere I go, I can't help but think I am just leaving the glass pieces on the ground to continue to wound my already wounded heart. How do you pick up the pieces? How do you tell yourself it's time to find a way to heal? When does the pain stop tearing you apart everywhere you go? When do the little things in life that bring you back to the darkest hour stop bringing you to tears? How does life return to a sense of normalcy after your innocence is gone? How do you pick that first piece off the ground and not feel guilty?

I don't know. But I do know that it has got to start soon. Some sort of stepping forward. Not "moving on" or "getting over it" as people say without the slightest idea of how those careless words rend your heart, but a true finding of what it means to live with this grief and without the guilt of leaving her behind.

It won't happen overnight and I know these next few months and even years will try my relationships. I hope that my friends and family can be patient. I pray that I can have grace. I know that I serve a good God. There are few things that I know for certain anymore but one is that He is right there, ready to help me pick up that first piece. And the second and the third.

...forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark...

Philippians 3:13,14

My Heart (not written by me...)

Go ahead and mention my child
The one that died, you know.
Don't worry about hurting me further
The depth of my pain doesn't show.

Don't worry about making me cry.
I'm already crying inside.
Help me to heal by releasing
The tears that I try to hide.

I'm hurt when you just keep silent
Pretending she didn't exist.
I'd rather you'd mention my child
Knowing that she has been missed.

You asked me how I'm doing.
I say "Pretty good" or "fine,"
But healing is something on-going
I feel it will take a lifetime.


By Elizabeth Dent

Fight for Wyatt, He Fought for His Life

Common sense checked out when the state of Tennessee tried to redefine life in 2005. Danielle's baby, Wyatt fought for his life two minutes. He fought to stay here with his mommy and daddy. Now Danielle is being denied a birth certificate because they classified little Wyatt as a stillborn. He WAS NOT stillborn! Please click on the link to the right to have this law amended and save countless others from the heartache of being denied their right to their child's birth certificate.

Click here for more information on Danielle's blog Letting Go and Letting God:

http://wyattnathaniel.blogspot.com/2009/09/update-good-news-and-answering.html

Peace in the Storm

Since I lost Jenna, I find myself re-evaluating everything in my life. Everything. Nothing is as it was. It's a bit overwhelming. When everything in this world keeps rotating and it feels like it should STOP, it just keeps going.


I feel out of place in the sunshine. Under a stormy sky, I feel right at home because that's how I feel inside. It sounds strange, but I just don't know if I will ever get to appreciate a beautiful sunny day for what it once was. I keep asking myself, How can it be so sunny and beautiful outside when my heart is so grief-stricken? When we live in a world where babies die and children get illnesses? How can the sun keep shining when there are countless broken mama's hearts all over the world? How can the skies be so blue as if nothing happened and my Jenna is not here like she should be? I keep asking these questions, as if the world revolves around me... News flash - it doesn't.


I get to thinking about what Jesus did on the cross and it melts my heart. I don't think I have ever appreciated it more than I do now. I write that to my shame, but her death just made my salvation and Heaven more real. He made it possible to see her again. He made a way. And that gives me hope, more than I can ever write about.


It's an amazing truth that I can survive this grief. I don't feel like it most days, but it is just mind-blowing that women have survived this lifeless and empty grief. That also gives me hope. I read about the mothers who have passed their first year or more without their little ones and that gives me a huge glimpse of hope. I can't see myself being in a better place right now, but it must be possible.


Lauren from "Walking by Faith" so perfectly worded it: "He’s showing me how to live life when it hurts to breathe some days."


It does hurt to breathe some days. It hurts to exist. I told someone the other day that I don't know how long I am going to be where I am in this grief, but this is just where I am. Desperately missing her. Devastated. Feeling deserted by God.


I know better than to feel those things, but I do. I know whom I have believed (II Tim. 1:12), and He is faithful but I can't help but feel that I have been let down by the One who could have saved her.


Lately where we live, it has been raining and stormy. It has perfectly captioned my heart's deepest sorrow. I stand here but I am really not alone. Even when my frail mind is doubting His cause, His love and His plan, He is right there, assuring me that it will be alright filling my heart with the the mystery of peace.

HIGHER!!!!

Returning to the backyard bliss of my childhood tonight was comforting. I was in the playground where I used to go as a teen and swing because I was bored. But today I was there, desperate for a sigh of relief from the relentless waves of grief. Relief from this thing I call the aftermath of my fate. Life without the one who was my purpose seems so shallow. I have daily reminders that pull me a million or so directions, urging me to continue in this unfortunate world.



For a split second, I was swinging.


                               Higher…


               Higher…


Higher…


I almost convinced myself that I could escape. Swinging has a whimsical likeness to it. The increasing speed and hustling wind against my face brought such an illusion of flight. I had a thought that if I could go high enough, I just might escape this harsh reality; this new normal as we like to say. I kept swinging because for a few moments my feet were off the ground that often required more of me than can be handled. The ground where we buried our firstborn. The ground where all my burdens would meet me when I stopped swinging.


And amid this useless wishing, the grace of God prevailed. I saw her in the sky. Flying to a faraway destination, no doubt a safe place. All alone, small and insignificant to this world, yet perfect. And in the blink of an eye she was gone. Just like that.


These feathered creatures remind me of her likeness. Her unfathomable beauty. The swift tenderness of their beings relates so perfectly to her fragile self. Now and then.


Words cannot begin to describe my agony tonight. I talk a lot about hope and I have it. But tonight my empty arms are crushing me.

Happy Four Months, My Precious Jenna

It's hard to believe that she would have been four months today. They say time is your friend, but right now time feels like a thief. Taking me further and further away from the most precious moments of my life, spent with her. The doctors would tell us that she would have spent at least four months in the NICU. Something about this month made me think of that. I could have been bringing her home. Maybe.  

On her balloons, her daddy and me write messages to her. Who knows... Maybe God reads them to her? I think it's quite possible she enjoys these balloons in ways we cannot even imagine.

I got to tell her how much I love her...

How much I miss her...

and that I am so thankful I got to meet her...

I'm Going to Run with it

So I had an idea. I hope its a good one. I want it to be a way for us to remember our babies but also find a drink in this dry land of grief. Losing a baby has got to be one of the hardest things a person could ever be asked of God to do. While I read new stories every week of someone else who has endured this lonesome path, I get to wondering if there is any hope. The answer is YES. 

I am very touched how many people have supported my thinking "outloud" on this online journal at Handprints from Heaven. I have met so many of you through the most unfortunate circumstances. But I challenge each of us to look for hope. This new blog is dedicated to the mothers who have had their dreams dashed into a million pieces, and often times more than once. I pray that you find the hope that only Jesus Christ can give. I ask you to visit my new blog called Abiding Hope.

http://www.ourabidinghope.blogspot.com/

There, I can make a hope collage with your baby's name or just a phrase that you'd like done. It makes a lot more sense when you actually see what I am rambling on about. May the peace of God follow in the days ahead.

But I will hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more.

-Psalms 71:14

Hope???

"And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three..." I Corinthians 13:13

Yes. In the midst of my broken, oh-so broken heart it is possible. Not because of anything I have done or even asked God for. My reason of the hope that I have is all because of my truest friend, Jesus Christ.

Everyday is a horrible reminder of the life that could have been. Having been almost four months into this nightmare of the life almost lived, it has exhausted my entire being. My will to fight and live and breath. But out of nowhere here it is.

Hope. Abiding Hope.

He pours it into my soul in buckets of sweet rain. I don't look for hope as I feel like hope is a way of leaving her behind. But when He just gives it to me, I can't resist. It feels so nice to have a glimpse of the life that survives this aftermath. He gives me hope when I least expect it, when I don't deserve it after all my questioning and anger and when I least understand it. He lifts me up just like He said He would. I don't know what my hope will bring, but I know that it is something that can be waited for.

When everything inside of me has failed, I have an abiding hope. One of my favorite definitions of the word abide is found in webster's dictionary.

abide: \ə-ˈbīd\ 1 to endure without yielding
 
Without Yielding! We have a blessed hope. We really really do. We can bring our shattered hearts and all the parts of our lives that don't make any sense to Him. When everyone around us seems to be forgetting our precious angels or when people shrivel up in conversation when you tell them yes, you had a child but they died, He has not forgotten or left any pieces of our lives behind. He is ok talking with us about our angels.

Tonight, even if it lasts for only a moment, I am going to dare to hope. I will not pretend I am ok. I will have a broken heart the rest of my life. I will always wonder why. But since Jesus made a way for me to hope, tonight I will. For as long as I can. There is no harm in hoping.
 
Lately I have had a bunch of rough days which has probably been reflected in my posts. Since I have shared my rough days I wanted to share my hope. Abiding Hope.
 
Hope for a healed heart.
Hope to go Home one day.
Hope to have a healthy baby one day.
Hope to see our last enemy conquered, death.
Hope to see my Jenna again.

"But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings..." Malachi 4:2

Name in the Ground

I never thought it would be this way
To see her name in the ground
To visit my firstborn in the heat of the day
and see her name like this
Beautiful
Morbid
Feelings of utter disgust


Something inside just can't see past
That part of me that let her down
Put she's ok today
I know she is
My heart weeps daily for the one that I love
She brought sunshine and love
Smiles and a whole bunch of hurt
When she left this earth.


It wasn't supposed to be like this
She should have buried me
Someday faraway
She should have picked my headstone
And the flowers and funeral arrange
But God had a bigger plan
Still not able to see it clearly


Maybe someday is not that far away
To see my precious one again
Each day feels like an eternity
Stretching my patience and sympathy
Trying my faith and peace of mind
Daily
Constant
Here I find His hand sufficient


When all inside me has failed
Failed myself
My firstborn
My dreams
My life


Here I find His grace
and love
The sweet comfort down inside
But there are days when I feel alone
Today I saw her name in the ground
Alone and beautiful all the same
It wasn't supposed to be like this


I should have been monogramming her name on pillows or sheets
Blankets or bags
Not on a headstone.
Not like this
Today the emptiness is drowning
This tide of sorrow blinds my sight
And I wait for tomorrow's hope.