Assurance

Right after Jenna died, I couldn't read anything in the Bible besides Psalms. I found so much comfort in that book for months and months. I took a trip back there today, which I stopped doing for some reason or another. It was refreshing.

Hear me when I call, O God of my righteousness: thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress; have mercy upon me, and hear my prayer...

But know that the LORD hath set apart him that is godly for himself: the LORD will hear when I call unto him. Stand in awe, and sin not: commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still. Selah. 

Psalms 4: 1,3-4

Somehow this reminded me of something my pastor's wife told me right after Jenna died. She told me "We're going to make the Lord look good." She said it with gentleness, but firmly. It put a fire down inside of me to just make it, and not collapse under this grief. It also assured me that I was not surviving this tragedy by myself, but with my Savior at my side.

It's like I forget those small things that helped me.


But reading this today brought it back, and I am thankful.


The Lord didn't leave me when she died. He has and he will give me everything I need not just to survive but make it by his grace.

Even when it's hard to believe and when everything inside me feels desolate.

School of Grief

I have to say I am feeling a little better than the other day. The anxiety over the medical center has worn off.

Grief is very unpredictable. It's almost beautiful when you think about it. Grief is the result of loving deeply.

I have to think of it that way. And it's not the end.

I had a moment today though. It's like the reminders are everywhere and they hit me really close together these days.

I was in the clinic and a grandpa and his wife were tending to their grandson. It was sweet to watch how he took care of him and to listen to his patient conversations with him. It was obvious they were watching their grandson while his parents were with the OB. His parents finally came out and the mother happily announced "It's a girl!"... to her parents.

Instinctively, I checked for facial expressions, and she wasn't hiding any bad news... her happiness was sincere. She didn't have to mull over any heart-wrenching decisions with her husband before breaking devastating news to the whole world... They received the news they were expecting, or at least partially expecting - happy nonetheless.

It was yet another flashback, and thought that came to mind that should have been me...

Our five month check up revealed more than just the gender... it revealed the critical state of Jenna's heart and lungs and restricted growth.

I hate that I cannot hear that sort of news (even though I was technically eavesdropping, but the whole waiting room could hear it), and not feel anything but complete joy for them. I am relieved that it is possible to go in for a 20 week u/s and have things turn out just fine.

But the sting, it still hurts.

The sting is from the scar I wear. And I wear the scar because I have loved and love very deeply.

And I have to believe for the sake of my sanity, that it will be okay one day. But for now, while my heart is sinking in grief, I must appreciate it.

This hole in my heart belongs to her, and it is okay that it hurts. It is natural. I have learned to live with my pain everyday, in everything I do. My steps are not always straight and I stumble a lot, but I am learning to walk again. And breathe again. And smile again.

I am learning under this school of grief. It is exhausting and it comes with me everywhere I go. There are lessons I really believed I could do without, lessons that I thought I didn't need and lessons I thought surely I had down pat.

It will be teaching me the rest of my life, and hopefully someday I can master the grief that has me crippled most of the time and learn to wield it for good, since it was not my choice to enter in the first place.

Medical Center

I am heartbroken. This isn't new but it's overwhelming tonight.

The other night we drove past a medical center close by our house.


It wasn't even her medical center, but it still haunted me nonetheless and ever since.

Medical Center...

Those words take me back to the life I thought would last longer. The one where I literally lived at the hospital because that was where I belonged. The place where my family was complete. The one I was prepared to live for as long as I had to.

Everything got put on hold and nothing seemed important but the things that actually mattered...

How did I get where I am today? I'm not okay most days. I'm not. My heart is broken with an unnatural loss.

I want to go back. SO BAD.

I just want that life back. The one she's still a part of it. Even if it was only at the medical center...

I want to go back.

Even if it means being around those doctors and parking garages and living out of a suitcase...

I feel bad for even thinking like this, because it would mean all those meds and eventually watching her suffer. I don't want that.

I just want her back. My life with hers. I miss those days in the NICU because it felt so good to be next to her. I was her mother. I am her mother.

This is what I get for staying up way too late...

but I couldn't convince myself to go to sleep earlier, I just knew I would lie there... awake... with a brain full of my crazy missing her... and eventually crying... until I woke up and realized I had to do it all over again...

without her.

You Are a Beautiful Mother

I just visited Carly's new website for International Babylost Mother's Day.

It is a lovely, so lovely. I wanted to help spread the word about it, and dedicate this post to all my fellow babylost mothers.

A Mother's Love is...

Undying
Supernaturally given
Forever
Unending
Immeasurable
Endless
Timeless
Always
Hopeful
Painful
A gift
Incomprehensible
Embracing
Forgiving
Longing
Eternal
Precious
In a moment
Beyond words
Unspoken
Peaceful
Matchless
Instantaneous
Enduring
Beyond the grave
Before birth
Unfathomable

This was spinning through my head on my way home today. Empty arms and silence don't sit well with me. Lately I have a one-track mind, and it's almost always on one track... my Jenna.

And I know that a year is fast approaching, and I have no idea how to measure my healing, if there's even been any. Where will the world expect me to be at a year?

It still feels like only yesterday. The tears come easier today than they did the day after she died.

The price of a mother's love.

Worth every bit of it.

******************************

What would you add to a mother's love?

Post 100!!!

Yay! I finally made it! Well, I don't know why 100 is an accomplishment, but since it seems to be the blog trend to make for a special occasion on the 100th post, I will follow tradition ;)

For my 100th post on this blog I want to say that I am thankful for some things I believe God has been bringing me back to. One of the biggest things is my love for being creative.

When Jenna died, I felt like I literally lost my identity. I recently wrote about that here. I remember not recognizing the person I saw in the mirror, especially days after she died. It was like a weird out of body experience (not literally, metaphorically... if that makes any sense).

I used to be a naive and somewhat selfish girl who graduated college and taught art, but really - I wanted to be an artist. I was very much wanting a career in an art museum some day or to teach art history at a university, go to grad school...

Well I can't really say those are my dreams anymore. They have changed. My passion is not art, my passion is helping someone else who is hurting just as bad as I did. I would still love to go back to school one day but to study art therapy.

I am slowly finding my identity again, but I am finding it is very different than the one I once knew.

*Her short visit to my world made all the difference.*

I am bouncing back, and I am certain it's going to be a bumpy ride because those days (where I can't even imagine being happy again) just happen. But here it is.

Jenna died, but my identity and being creative doesn't have to. I love colors, I love art, I love anything that challenges my imagination.

IT IS WHO I AM.

Okay! I feel like I can breathe a little easier...

As long as God will help me, I want to embrace this grief with my love for art.

So... I am pretty excited about these. Some of you may already know, but I wanted to let everyone know I am finally selling the Hope Collage Memory Boxes. For the 25 Days of Giveaways before Christmas (hosted by lovely Tina) my giveaway was a memory box. It was inspired from the book, The Christmas Box, loaned to me by Jill from Footprints on Our Hearts.

You can read more about the memory boxes here.

These are some examples...

 

I really enjoy making them. I am selling them for $15 before shipping. I really really want to keep the price low so to help with costs I am also doing blog makeovers on my newest blog called Small Bird Studio, named after my Jenna! It only costs $30 to get a brand new blog look and... well you can read more about that here.

The proceeds made from the blog makeovers will help keep the cost of the memory boxes affordable and with the cost of printing the postcards for the Abiding Hope Collages to distribute in NICUs at hospitals. The proceeds will also cover any cost of running Abiding Hope Collages site.

I am pretty excited about both endeavors because one - it is all because of my daughter, and in her honor and two- I get to be creative while doing all of it :)

If you get a chance please visit Small Bird Studio. If you have any feedback or suggestions, I would sure appreciate it. Your input means a lot. I have put a lot of thought into both of these efforts, and was dying to share them here, but this is all pretty new to me. It is very possible I may have overlooked something in my excitement to get this started.

Oh, and here's my logo... :)

Manasseh

It feels like forever since I've posted, but it's been for a good cause. At our camp meeting this week, there was one sermon preached that I just cannot forget. I have to admit I am pretty bad about remembering a sermon days after it is preached, but this one just hit a little (or a lot) close to home.

The preacher was preaching on Joseph. And we know that Joseph experienced much sorrow, loneliness, and loss. Every bit of it was undeserving but every bit of it was also being closely monitored by God. Nothing happened to Joseph that God didn't already know about. I can't honestly say I believe God plans disasters and tragedies, but He is just so big that He can make good from horrible horrible situations, for His glory.

The best part of the sermon was when he said that Joseph named his firstborn Manasseh because "God... hath made me to forget all my toil," (Genesis 41:51).

I can't help but think - what circumstance could possibly come close to making me forget all that these past eight months have brought on me??? Of course in our world (babyloss land) no baby will ever come close to making us forget the one we lost.

The preacher went on the describe the joy and wonder that overcame Joseph as he held his son and played out a scenario where someone else in the room might have asked him about the years in prison and he just glances over at them, completely lost in where God has brought him, and says "What prison?"

This brought tears to my eyes. I can't see that ever being me... forgetting the pain.

I never want to forget my daughter, I believe that is impossible. She is a part of me, in more ways than I can even put into words. But this sermon makes me look forward to the day I draw my last breath.

And I see my Savior who made it possible to be reunited with her.

And I get to SEE her. I think then it might be okay to forget some things...

All the tears,
all the lonely days and nights,
all the random breakdowns,
all the endless questioning,
all the emptiness,
all the broken-spirited days,
all the times I knew she should have been there with us,
all the times we cried at the cemetery and in private,
all the times I passed by the baby girl section at a store and wanted to do nothing but smash plates and destroy something in anger and resentment,
all the times I couldn't look at her pictures because the memories H.U.R.T.,
all the times I dreaded being somewhere because I would be babyless but yet a mother,
all the times I loved so hard I began to hate somethings in this world,
all the times I became acquainted with the rage I never knew I had,
all the times I sang hymnals and felt like the biggest hypocrite (because let's face it... I hadn't been feeling that heavenly sunlight in a while),
all the times I went to bed so late (to the point of near exhaustion) so that I wouldn't have to lie down and face my mind alone

I think then, I believe then I will forget too... all my toil.


If you are interested, my church had the sermons streamed online, so you can view the sermon here. It's called "Joseph's Triumph", under Monday 01-11-10.

Just to be Totally Honest...

My Heavenly Father has been so faithful. I started this week emotionally wrecked (still major wreckage going on). Nobody would ever know it by looking at me, because, well, I have perfected my mask. But the more I analyzed this grief and where I am, the more I realized how far I have gotten away from God in my heart. I stopped trusting in His promises somewhere along the way. I somehow left behind all the memories of how He carried me through the darkest day/week/months of my life. I have also lost faith in what once brought me immense peace and consolation.

Can I just be honest and say I am tired of people saying things like, "Jenna's an angel now." "It wasn't God's will" or "She's in Heaven." or even "Now she is perfect with God"?

Umm... yeah. I know. Whatever...

How does hearing all that fill my emptiness? How does that silence my cry for my daughter? How does that pacify a restless heart?

It doesn't.

So to embellish on my previous post, I have really tried to stop talking about her to complete strangers. They simply do not know what to say, nor should they. All the comments that were left have ministered to my heart and I don't feel so bad anymore about mentioning her when I can and not mentioning her when I JUST can't.

So to all my lovely readers, thank you, thank you for your input!!! 

I don't even know how to say it without just saying it. It's like it clicked last night. The preaching was not even related but somehow God pinpointed the problem and I actually got it. I have not been right in my relationship with God for a while. I've let up somewhere. And a relationship with God is like any other, it takes work, dedication, and heart. I haven't put my heart into it. And God being the gentleman He is, hasn't pushed Himself on me. He has been waiting for me to realize that He is right where I last left Him when I took that first step away from Him.

So to retrace my steps away from God, I have to wonder in what direction was that first step was taken?

In the direction of bitterness? Anger? Disappointment? Frustration? Self-pity? Self-preservation?

Probably all of the above and more.

All I know is that wherever that first step is taking me, is no place I want to end up for good. I can do sad. I really can. But it's not knowing who I am anymore that scares me. I can't say that I have even taken one step in the "right" direction, but I am refusing to take anymore in the direction I was going, by God's grace. For now I am standing still, very unsure of why this sadness is so deep these days.

I want to give God back my heart. He gave me the greatest blessing a mother could ask for those 13 days. But there's something else in my heart that I cannot explain. It is guarded. It is broken. And I feel that there is little to give. Especially since I feel terribly empty these days.

Empty. Empty. Empty.

And maybe just maybe I am a little tired of being labeled as a babyloss mother, and feeling like when I do talk about her, it's like I have once again rehashed an old horror story that everyone's tired of hearing. It's tiring mothering a dead child. There's never anything new to say. And what you do have to say you feel needs to be heard. Only it hurts. And stings. And occasionally, maybe more often than I'd like to admit, doesn't seem real.

And this... is my reality. It's like wading through uncertainty and I want identity. I want my identity back. But the identity I once had is gone forever. She doesn't exist anymore. This new identity feels very insecure.

Could it be just what God wants? What if being overly secure in one's identity negates my need to seek Him that much more?

As you can see I have many unanswered questions. I know from God's character that He doesn't require me to have anything to bring Him, all He wants is exactly what He's given me...

Could that really be a broken heart?

I Need Some Input

This week we have a camp meeting at our church where preachers and evangelists and even some missionaries come and preach and sing. There will be morning services most days and evening services every night through Friday. It's an exciting time, just to see what God might do. I may not be able to comment on everyone's blog, but I will definitely be reading them when I get a chance.

On a side note, is it normal that I am finding it harder to talk about Jenna? I mean with people IRL. (This blog is most exclusively my outlet to write about this grief journey)

I need some input here, if any of you can help. I have started to notice this in myself for about a week or so. It used to be pain-free to talk about her, because I had someone who wanted to talk about her and listen. It's not that I don't want to mention her or remember her, it is just HARD.

Maybe... I have convinced myself that I am doing better, when really I am drowning myself in distractions up to my eyeballs to force myself from feeling the brunt of the grief.

Why is it getting hard all of the sudden? I feel like I am a breath away from tears these days... maybe it's just "part of it".

Not to mention the guilt that I feel for feeling like it's almost too much to talk about her. It's a vicious cycle.

*sigh*

The Pony

On our way to the basketball game tonight, as the conversation was far from anything Jenna-related, the back of my mind wandered and I couldn't help but think...

I still can't believe you let her die, God... I didn't sign up for this... My heart can't take much more of this gut-wrenching grief and I can't even begin to describe how much I do not want to belong to this babyloss club...

*****

 

There are times of acceptance, if that's what you call it. These times are filled with indescribable peace about what has happened. And then there are times like the moment I had today. The emptiness is overwhelming, and my heart feels like it's so worn down, it could just stop beating. Times like this I can hardly believe that I have a child. A dead child. It's also times like these when my daughter feels a million light years away and the thought of her being right next to me or watching over me seems like make-believe fable to pacify a broken, hopeless heart.

As tears filled my eyes, I refused to let them fall. I kept my face turned away from my husband. Sometimes I just don't want someone to try to make me feel better. Sometimes I just need the sadness to run it's course. Most of the time the grief runs it's course silently or on this blog. The further I get from her death date, the less I am finding people in real life willing to just be sad about what has happened with me. And really, it's okay. I have made peace in my heart that I will continue to honor her life... with or without anyone's approval or support. And I will give my grief it's place. Even if it's silently looking out the window.

And there outside the passenger window I spotted a precious pony fenced in the one of the nearby ranch houses. Ponies will always remind me of my Jenna.

I knew it was for me. No coincidence in the timing... it was God. I'd passed through that country road many times before and have never seen it before. It must have been there before, but I knew God reserved it for my need today. My need to know that He still cares. In spite of my severe disappointment in what He could have prevented. He still cares. And it's times like these that I really believe He gets it. He gets the disappointment, the mistrust, the anger, the instability in my mind and emotions.

 

January Means...

Jenna's been in Heaven for 8 months. My day started out with me waking up and suddenly becoming aware that I hadn't heard from my husband while on his usual break. He is pretty consistent about phoning me so naturally I tried calling him. Once... no answer... ten minutes later... no answer... thirty minutes later... still no answer. Even if he is too busy to answer he always texts me to let me know he got my call. For thirty to forty minutes I was completely freaking myself out, convinced that something had happened on his way to work. I kept thinking I can't lose him too. He finally called and all I could do was cry me eyes out of how I had reverted to a child's state of dependency. I find myself constantly menacing my own mind with thoughts of what if something really did happen this time? 

Anyway, after I got off the phone with him, I was driving by this time, and looked up and there was a light pink balloon floating up to Heaven. My Jenna. That's all I could think of. My Jenna and how much I miss her. I literally feel empty. But the pink balloon (of which I wish I had a picture) was all alone, and put there for me. It's like she was saying, just be happy Mommy, I am right here. 

Be happy...

Well since New Year's Eve I had been looking forward to today. Yes, actually looking forward to it. My Jenna would have been eight months. I cannot even imagine her at eight months. All I can see is my perfect baby girl at infancy, preemie infancy, yet perfect. I feel so guilty that I cannot envision her at her "should-be" age.

It is what it is. I have high doubts that she is growing at the rate we do down here in Heaven anyway.

Back to my story... my husband helped out his brother with a firecracker stand and I made a cake for them. When I brought it up to the stand, I ended up staying awhile. He asked me if there was anything from the stand I wanted before he left that night.

"No"... not really in the celebrating mood is what I thought.

He picked up some giant sparklers (which just happen to be partly fuchsia) "What about for Jenna?"

Of course it melted my heart. "What do you mean?"

"We can light them for her."

"Yes!" I was excited to think of including her on this New Year's festivities. I imagined lighting them with family and telling them it was in remembrance of Jenna. My husband had different ideas...

So today, we took the giant, partly fuchsia sparklers over to her grave.

And yes, we really lit them on her grave! It was so much fun. I don't think I've ever had this much "fun" while visiting her.

 

 

 

Now I know this is probably highly dangerous and we probably broke all sorts of laws...

but it was so much FUN!!! I think Jenna liked her sparklers.

Happy 8 months, my Jenna!

**************************************

I have been meaning to post about this. I am terrible. Marie from My Expected End and Jill from Footprints on Our Hearts passed this award to me.

 Thank you ladies, you are so sweet. The rules are to list 7 things about yourself and pass it onto seven more bloggers.

My 7 things...

1. I am realizing as I struggle to write this list that I am SUCH a different person. (You'd think I'd get that by now)

2. I majored in something I LOVE... teaching and art

3. I would love to learn several foreign languages one day, including Chinese and French

4. I'm a super neat freak. I love organization in all aspects of my life. Classroom, kitchen, drawers... you name it. Even my junk drawer is compartmentalized.

5. The only place I feel like I can unravel and be myself is my home, so thank God for my house!

6. I love saturated colors, they make the world more interesting.

7. I stay away from watching the news because it is usually depressing and negative. I feel that I am a coward of sorts and also setting myself up for disaster by not staying in tune with world events. I have slowly started to read the headlines online... I know this one's weird but true.

Now for seven beautiful bloggers...

Caroline from The Croley Gang... She is such a true blessing and always has a kind word to say. Even when I write those gloom and doom posts, she is just there.

Beth from Safe in This House... It has been a blessing getting to know Beth. She has been a wonderful support for me on my blog and just being a real friend. She grieves openly and honestly and manages to hold onto faith through it all. She also does a beautiful job at honoring her daughter, Kathlyn. I have learned from her to look for signs from our babies even more than I used to.

Kristin from Once a Mother... I have enjoyed becoming acquainted with Kristin and her beautiful daughter Peyton. Kristin also writes from the depth of her heart. Her poetry seeps from a broken heart, I don't think I have ever read poetry so raw and beautiful and meaningful at the same time. My words are not doing her poetry justice, but if you have ever read her work, you would know what I mean. She is also a survivor of heartache after unimaginable heartache.

Michelle from Faith, hope and loving Audrey... I recently found Michelle's blog and have truly been blessed by her and her daughter's story. In her blog, her faith is ever present in the face of grief.

AKD from Little Footprints... She always always has something encouraging to say when she comments and is such a support for me.

Sarah from Loving Henry... I recently started following her blog as well. Sarah is a sweetheart and is a blessing on her blog.

Karen from Busy Hands... I have been following Karen's blog for a few months now and always enjoy reading her blog because she incorporates real life into her posts. It is easy to picture what she is writing about, whether it is her wonderful, supportive co-workers from the job she works overnight or reminiscing her sweet George.

If you are still reading, I am sorry this post is so long. I appreciate the award and would like to let every reader know I am honored and humbled by your support.

Word of the Year

Ter from With An Angel On My Shoulders posted about having a "Word of the Year". Hers is phenomenal and inspiring. Please check it out if you have a chance.

I got to wondering what my "word of the year" is for 2010. I mean a word that I could live by. A word that defines this coming year. Preferably a word that means better things are to come. But I know from experience that setting expectations can often be dangerous and disappointing. Turning back the clock a year, it would have been impossible to accurately define it. If I had had the chance to define it, it might have been "change". I certainly knew things in my world would change with our first baby on the way, but I had no idea just how drastically I would be changing. So before I set out to define this year, I must take a few steps back.

While my world was shot to pieces last year, most experiences that occurred in 2009 would have to be analyzed before being ruled out as pure heartbreak.

For example my daughter dying. Tragic, yes but what an experience to get to be her mother!

And what about all those things that I so closely associate with her?

the 5th - day she was born
the 18th - day she died
the 20th - memorial service

and the #5... this number just popped up everywhere with her. It wasn't until after she died that I realized her first and middle name had five letters in them. And by one minute she was born on 5-5-09. Crazy stuff. Little stuff, but crazy.

and the color fuchsia... and ponies... and small birds... and well the list could just go on forever.

All these crazy little things are horrible reminders of what once was. I could drive myself crazy because these are everyday things that just cannot be naturally avoided. In the very beginning it was overwhelming just how many reminders there were of her. I didn't mind them, but I had no idea how I would be able to live and breathe and exist without her... for the rest of my life.

As I thought about what word could best define this past year, it would have to be perspective. I couldn't live another moment if I couldn't believe she truly truly gained from my loss.

She gained an eternity away from sin and this world to be with her Creator.

She gained.

And when these numbers and dates come up, and my mind is too weak to think rationally, perspective is what has grounded me again. I have to remember what I did have, what I do have and what I will one day have again. Of course keeping perspective is a whole other story...

but perspective has been my mainstay. When I couldn't keep it for myself, my husband has been right there to help me. And in those moments when it hurt too much to even breathe without her, perspective dried my tears and often helped me put the face on I was too weak to mask. Perspective helped me to start living again, or to even think about living again.

And with the right perspective I have so desperately needed in 2009, I can claim hope as my word of this year. I cannot define this year with a much broader scope, but to narrow it down for me is dangerous. I learned to hope against hope with Jenna, but after she died my hope seemed meager and desolate. Perspective carried me when hope failed me. But hoping is not seeing things happen, it is believing that they will happen.

I hope more than ever for the Lord's return.
I hope to please the Lord with my life.
I hope for all the broken hearts of so many of my friends here in this community.
I hope for a healthy, screaming baby this time.
I hope for so much more.

For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for?

Romans 8:24

(charity) Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. 

I Corinthians 13:7

And we desire that every one of you do shew the same diligence to the full assurance of hope unto the end: Hebrews 6:11

And as Ter asked us on her blog, what is your word of the year?