Sometimes there are no words for the things my heart has to say.
Sometimes it's expressed in an idea or a sigh. Sometimes it's expressed in the way I can or cannot sing. Sometimes it's expressed in my lack of ability to slow down. Sometimes it's expressed in a silent prayer.
Sometimes it's expressed in my need to live life fully, feel every rose petal, soak in the heat, stare out the window and absorb every detail.. because you just never know.
Life, as I have learned is not something I own. It is a gift that I hope to wear out completely. I don't want to look back one day and wonder. I wonder all the time about Jenna and it's already too much.
Lately my heart just pains to hold her. And so often I feel guilty for needing a sign that she is really in Heaven. I don't doubt that she lives there, but sometimes it just seems so...far...away.
The longer I go without saying her name I feel like I am choking. I have a NEED to talk about her, although it's not always that easy.
Since the hospital declined the Hope Collages to be a part of their care packages for parents, I literally felt like she died all over again. It was silly I guess, but I feel like a piece of her is still there. It's where I met my baby girl. It's where we said goodbye. It was the last place I saw her. I have found other ways to reach bereaved parents at the hospital, which is encouraging.
I have found that little Joseph loves to stare at our pictures on our walls. Many in our living room are pictures of us and Jenna. I hope that he knows there's someone extra special in those. I'll bet he knows more than I realize.
When I read about babyloss mamas grieving over their babies who have been gone more than a year, it a relief because I don't feel rushed. I can feel parts of this wound that have been healed, but the soarness lingers. The pain is still there and the scar is embedded into who I will forever be. It's this new life I've been given to walk.
I've been reading Angie Smith's book "I Will Carry You". I think the biggest impact this book has had on me was her emphasis on prayer. She talks a lot about her prayer life before, during and after her loss. Ironically I believe this is what God has been dealing with me about. Trusting Him enough to take this broken heart every single day. Every single hour. Again and again and again.
Somedays I feel completely humbled that God would choose me to mother such a special little girl. After all, most people will never experience the love and hope we knew those 13 days. What a tremendous gift. And I'd like that to be my heart song for tonight. And hopefully this week. One day at a time.
She was such a gift.
7.25.2010
7.17.2010
your handprints
I thought of you today. Something about a beautiful sunset reminds me of you. I took this a little over a week ago.
I'll keep your sail in the wind if it's all I ever do.
7.15.2010
Dear Jenna
I haven't had much to say here lately but I have missed you incredibly. A year doesn't heal much, but it does get me closer to the day when we'll be together again. I went to your hospital today with Amy for her daughter's treatments. Thank God she's doing well :)
Being there was hard, but it wasn't the first time I've been back. I made myself go to the fourth floor, where you were. It was my second time back to that floor since you died, but this time was a little easier. I strolled your little brother around a little, people were probably wondering why a mama with a chubby little baby is on that floor. I just had to take a peek down memory lane. It's all still there, exactly as it was over a year ago. I'd go back in a heartbeat to be with you, but I don't miss the feeling of suspense. I don't miss the alarms, the smell of the medicines, the dark gloom that overshadows the NICU, that hallway... I don't miss any of those things one bit. But they were all a part of your memory and you've opened my eyes to a part of the world I would have otherwise known nothing about. My heart breaks in a completely different way now for NICU families and bereaved parents.
I asked Daddy last night what I prayed wrong. Did I pray the wrong thing when you were sick? The wrong words? What are the right words? I wish I knew. But deep down inside I know there weren't any right or wrong words. That's just another one of the devil's attacks on my mind to steal my peace. Not this time. Maybe it helped to verbally say what had been raging within me.
I am reading Angie Smith's book about her loss and it talks a lot about prayer too. I think God was trying to tell me something...
Anyway, you will be remembered. Missed everyday. Today I wondered what you would have named your children? I had a crazy thought that you might name your little girl Aurora... your mommy has a wild imagination... and then not even two minutes later down the road I see this truck with huge letters that spell "Aurora"... haha... I had to smile. It's like God's sense of humor or something. I miss you baby girl.
Being there was hard, but it wasn't the first time I've been back. I made myself go to the fourth floor, where you were. It was my second time back to that floor since you died, but this time was a little easier. I strolled your little brother around a little, people were probably wondering why a mama with a chubby little baby is on that floor. I just had to take a peek down memory lane. It's all still there, exactly as it was over a year ago. I'd go back in a heartbeat to be with you, but I don't miss the feeling of suspense. I don't miss the alarms, the smell of the medicines, the dark gloom that overshadows the NICU, that hallway... I don't miss any of those things one bit. But they were all a part of your memory and you've opened my eyes to a part of the world I would have otherwise known nothing about. My heart breaks in a completely different way now for NICU families and bereaved parents.
I asked Daddy last night what I prayed wrong. Did I pray the wrong thing when you were sick? The wrong words? What are the right words? I wish I knew. But deep down inside I know there weren't any right or wrong words. That's just another one of the devil's attacks on my mind to steal my peace. Not this time. Maybe it helped to verbally say what had been raging within me.
I am reading Angie Smith's book about her loss and it talks a lot about prayer too. I think God was trying to tell me something...
Anyway, you will be remembered. Missed everyday. Today I wondered what you would have named your children? I had a crazy thought that you might name your little girl Aurora... your mommy has a wild imagination... and then not even two minutes later down the road I see this truck with huge letters that spell "Aurora"... haha... I had to smile. It's like God's sense of humor or something. I miss you baby girl.
7.05.2010
i need starbucks & prayer request
Driving home today after church I just had one of those moments. I was riding alone with my Bubby. I didn't want to stop driving, but keep driving. Get lost in the words of the music and forget...
Escape.
Face the wind. The sky was impeccable. One of those sunsets that reminds me that God probably lets Jenna watercolor up there.
I missed her real bad this weekend. Could it be the holidays? The pretty red, white and blue hair bows?
God knows the holidays just add salt to an open wound.
For the first time ever I realized I finally believed in the decisions we had to make for her. I had never been 100% sure of the decision we made that day. I knew we had to, but deep down I believed there was still a chance. I've never admitted that until now. We made decisions that day that no parent should ever have to dream about.
It crossed my mind, as so many things have this past week and it occurred to me that I finally realized she never would have made it. Has it really taken me a year to begin thinking rationally? What else have I been disillusioned about?
Today I just wanted to escape. Not from my family and friends, but from me. The person I've become. In short I'm tired of hurting. Just tired.
As you can probably tell I didn't just keep driving and I didn't escape anything. I came right home, parked my little black car and thought to myself, Starbucks would have made this so much better... I should have stopped there on the way home...
I see that gaping hole she left behind everyday. Somedays it hurts. Somedays I'm numb. But somedays it stings. S T I N G S.
Somedays I just want to break or hit something.
I began to think about my Christianity and how I shouldn't be self-consumed. I'm tired of crying about me. Because really, when I cry it is about me. It'd be silly to cry over Jenna, although I still sometimes do I know she is just fine today. Me on the other hand.. I'm a work in progress.
:::
On another note, please pray for Bennett. He was born a couple of days ago (July 3) at 26 weeks, weighing 1 pound, 4 ounces. You can read/ follow his story here.
Escape.
Face the wind. The sky was impeccable. One of those sunsets that reminds me that God probably lets Jenna watercolor up there.
I missed her real bad this weekend. Could it be the holidays? The pretty red, white and blue hair bows?
God knows the holidays just add salt to an open wound.
For the first time ever I realized I finally believed in the decisions we had to make for her. I had never been 100% sure of the decision we made that day. I knew we had to, but deep down I believed there was still a chance. I've never admitted that until now. We made decisions that day that no parent should ever have to dream about.
It crossed my mind, as so many things have this past week and it occurred to me that I finally realized she never would have made it. Has it really taken me a year to begin thinking rationally? What else have I been disillusioned about?
Today I just wanted to escape. Not from my family and friends, but from me. The person I've become. In short I'm tired of hurting. Just tired.
As you can probably tell I didn't just keep driving and I didn't escape anything. I came right home, parked my little black car and thought to myself, Starbucks would have made this so much better... I should have stopped there on the way home...
I see that gaping hole she left behind everyday. Somedays it hurts. Somedays I'm numb. But somedays it stings. S T I N G S.
Somedays I just want to break or hit something.
I began to think about my Christianity and how I shouldn't be self-consumed. I'm tired of crying about me. Because really, when I cry it is about me. It'd be silly to cry over Jenna, although I still sometimes do I know she is just fine today. Me on the other hand.. I'm a work in progress.
:::
On another note, please pray for Bennett. He was born a couple of days ago (July 3) at 26 weeks, weighing 1 pound, 4 ounces. You can read/ follow his story here.
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